Blog Tour ~ Grimm Remains ~ Excerpt

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Blog Tour ~ Grimm Remains
Author: Eli Celata
Genre: Urban Fantasy/Paranormal
Dates: 11th – 21st of April
Hosted by: Ultimate Fantasy Book Tours

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Blurb:
Sometimes the fairy tale’s end is just the Grimm beginning.

Mammon’s summoning turned Rochester into a beacon for the denizens of Hell. As demon activity increases, Jon settles in for a new academic year, and Jordan moves in as the city’s protector. Unfortunately, the young warlock of Rochester might not be around long if the Devil’s marine legion has a say. Havfine, demonic mermaids, don’t often leave deep lakes and ocean waters. They’re better known for drowning mortal sailors than hunting magic users, but something has sent them upstream from Lake Ontario. When three orphans vanish from a magical sanctuary in Toronto, their caretaker – the Wizard Monday – dredges up a part of Jordan’s and Jon’s father’s history that Jordan would have rather forgotten. In this race against the Bane of Hamelin, more than three souls may be on the line.

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↓Buy Links↓
https://www.amazon.com/Eli-Celata/e/B01J6S0AY2

Author Bio:

eli-celata

Eli Celata was born in Rochester and is currently attending Binghamton University as a doctoral student.

Author’s Social Media Links:
Twitter: @Celata_E
Website: elicelata.wordpress.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/EliCelata/
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Eli-Celata/e/B01J6S0AY2

 

excerpt

I drummed the coin against the table. Three fast, one slow, then repeated. My foot tapped. Jitters ran down my legs, and every few minutes, I’d hold still. Not even a breath would escape. Then I’d begin again. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the sun dip lower, inch by inch, in the sky. It trickled down like a waterfall of gold sinking below the darkening cityscape. The steady warmth of summer faded with each vanishing ray though August – in name alone – would remain for another few days.

“Come on,” I whispered.

The sky shifted. My leg stilled. Metal paused, hanging above then falling to sit against the wood. As the sun fell down below the horizon, the Void Hours came in spades. Evening turned to night inside the bookshop, but I still pressed into the rising tension. A figure shifted down the street, but I kept my eyes straight ahead. The street lights buzzed and flickered on. Lemniscates shimmered over the window panes. From one side of the glass to the next, the sideways figure eights connected one into the next like linked chain. Inhaling, I let my eyes shut as the world hummed around me. Then the angel rang, and the door opened as if by a gust of air. The whole shop stretched out in the same breath and eased back with a sigh as the door locked. Fingers tapped the chalk remnants on the door before unhooking the ringer.

“Jon.”

I smiled, opening my eyes. “Welcome back to the States.”

 

 

 

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Blog Tour ~ Chameleon Assassin ~ With Excerpt

 

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Book Title: Chameleon Assassin

Author Name: B.R. Kingsolver

Genre: Urban Fantasy, science fiction, post-apocalyptic dystopian

Hosted by: Ultimate Fantasy Book Tours

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Blurb:

 

Libby is a mutant, one of the top burglars and assassins in the world. For a price, she caters to executives’ secret desires. Eliminate your corporate rival? Deliver a priceless art masterpiece or necklace? Hack into another corporation’s network? Libby’s your girl.

Climate change met nuclear war, and humanity lost. The corporations stepped in, stripping governments of power. Civilization didn’t end, but it became less civilized.

There are few rules as corporations jockey for position and control of assets and markets. The corporate elite live in their walled estates and skyscraper apartments while the majority of humanity supplies their luxuries. On the bottom level, the mutants, the poor, and the criminals scramble every day just to survive.

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↓Buy Links↓

 

Amazon.com https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01N2NVWP5

 

 

 

 

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Author Bio:

I made silver and turquoise jewelry for almost a decade, ended up in nursing school, then took a master’s in business. Along the way I worked in construction, as a newspaper editor, a teacher, and somehow found a career working with computers.

As to my other interests, I love the outdoors, especially the Rocky Mountains. I’ve skied since high school, with one broken leg and one torn ACL to show for it. I’ve hiked and camped all my life. I love to travel, though I haven’t done enough of it. I’ve seen a lot of Russia and Mexico, not enough of England. Amsterdam is amazing, and the Romanian Alps are breathtaking. Lake Tahoe is a favorite, and someday I’d like to see Banff.

For special deals and news about new books, sign up for my newsletter.

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Visit her at:

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excerpt

 

 

The band was rocking it at The Pinnacle when I heard, “Wanna dance?”

I glanced up, and then up a little more. He was tall, with nice shoulders, and a nice smile.

“Sure.” I stood, watching his face as I rose to my full six feet two inches, plus the heels I was wearing. A lot of men want women shorter than they are. My eyes passed his, and then his followed mine up. I figured if I had been barefoot, we would’ve been about the same height. His smile didn’t falter, and he reached for my hand. Okay! I smiled back.

We sized each other up as we danced. I liked what I saw. Broad shoulders, broad chest, muscular arms. Buzz haircut. A hint of tattoo peeking out from his sleeves and collar. Gold hoop in one ear.

We danced to a couple more songs, then he bought me a drink.

“I’m Ron,” he said as he handed me a glass with something orangish in it.

“Libby.”

“You’re hot.”

“Thanks.” I motioned toward the stage. “I’m going home with her tonight.”

He puckered his lips, then took a drink. “You always swing that way?”

“I swing all sorts of ways. Mostly I don’t swing at all. I’m kinda picky and I don’t get in a hurry.”

To my surprise, he smiled. “Nothing wrong with that.” He toasted me with his glass, then took another drink. “You come here a lot?”

“Fairly regular.”

“I’ll see ya again, then,” Ron said and wandered off into the crowd. A couple of minutes later I saw him dancing with another woman. Good to know I didn’t permanently crush his heart.

The orange thing tasted terrible, so I took it over to the bar and shoved it at Paul. “Give me a shot of whiskey. I need something to wash the taste of that out of my mouth.”

Paul laughed. “I tried to tell him you wouldn’t like it.” He poured me a shot. “My treat,” he said, leaning forward to hand me the drink. “See that guy down at the end of the bar? He asked if Elizabeth Nelson is here tonight.”

I craned my neck to see the man Paul was talking about. He looked like a corporate type, dressed in a business suit. Even my mother didn’t call me Elizabeth, but it was the name on my business card. “What did you tell him?”

“That I hadn’t seen you yet. Says his name is Sayd Agha.”

“Any hint as to what he wants?”

Paul shook his head.

I walked down the bar. “Mr. Agha? I’m Elizabeth Nelson. I understand you were asking for me.”

He slid off the bar stool and stood. “Ah, Miss Nelson. Yes, I would like to discuss some business with you.” He had to crane his neck up to talk to me and it seemed to bother him.

I handed him my business card. “Normally, people either send me an email or vmail. We can discuss your business tomorrow.” Rather than walk away, I hesitated, waiting to see what he would do. Expecting me at The Pinnacle was a curious choice since I had no official connection to the place. The idea that he had followed me there seeped through my alcohol-soaked brain.

“I hoped we might talk tonight,” he said, reaching out and taking my elbow. “Perhaps we could just go outside where it’s quieter.” I tried to shake him off, and he tightened his grip. “I think we need to talk now, Miss Nelson.”

“Perhaps we could go into the women’s washroom so I can torture you until you tell me what this is about,” I suggested. I stared in his eyes, but he wasn’t sufficiently shocked at what I’d said. A man who nonchalantly considered torture a standard topic of conversation? Not good.

“Look down,” I said. He glanced down at the knife I held against his abdomen. “Let go of me.” He did. “Very good. Now, turn around and face the bar. And if you think you might be faster than I am, consider if you’d bet your life on it.”

Agha made a good decision and turned around. I took a small electroshock box from my purse, put it against the back of his neck and gave him three million volts. His shaking-dance reaction attracted Paul’s attention, and he rushed around the end of the bar to catch my victim before he fell.

“Do you have a room where we can take him?” I asked. “Or do I have to drag him all the way to the basement?”

“Are you going to kill him?” Paul asked. Did I mention that Paul had known me for a very long time?

“Not until I find out how many friends he has outside. I have no idea what’s going on.”

Paul turned away and told another bartender to cover for him. He spoke into a mic clipped to his collar, then turned back to me.

“I called for a couple of bouncers to help us.”

We both scanned the room, trying to see if anyone was taking an interest in our activities. It didn’t appear anyone was paying attention. I pulled out my phone and called my dad.

“Hey, does the name Sayd Agha ring a bell?” I asked when Dad answered.

“Can’t say that it does. Why?”

“He just tried to lure me outside a club to talk business. I told him to call the office tomorrow, and he tried to get insistent.”

“Don’t go with him!”

I chuckled. “I didn’t. I can’t figure out why he’s interested in me, so I thought maybe you’d run over his pet frog or something.”

“Send me his picture.”

Two bouncers, Tom and Ramon, showed up and carried Agha down the stairs to the basement. I thought we were going to Paul’s apartment, but they surprised me. We ended up in a laundry room. Paul brought a chair, and one of the bouncers produced a rope. They were very efficient in tying my new friend to the chair.

“Looks like you boys have done this before,” I commented.

Tom winked at me.

“If he followed me here, his friends may know Nellie is a friend of mine,” I said.

Ramon’s grin turned into a scowl. “Anyone touch Nellie has a death wish.” I didn’t think he was speaking metaphorically. He nodded to Tom, who headed toward the stairs.

“Do you need me?” Paul asked. When I shook my head, he also left, but Ramon stayed.

“You here to protect me or him?” I asked.

“I don’t know him, and he ain’t near as pretty as you are. You’re Paul’s friend.” He stepped back and leaned against a washing machine.

My phone rang. “Dad?”

“His name is Adnan Erdowan,” Dad said. “He’s Turkish, but he’s been living here for about ten years. He works for a Russian electronics corporation.”

“That’s nice. By here, do you mean Toronto or North America?”

“North America. He’s based in Dallas, but airline records show he’s been shuttling back and forth from Dallas to Toronto monthly for the past year.”

“Any idea why he’s after me?”

“None. I’ve never dealt with that company, one way or the other.” Then he gave me his version of fatherly advice. “Libby, don’t take any chances and don’t leave any witnesses.”

I hung up and told the bouncer, “Maybe you should take a look outside and see if anyone’s waiting for him.”

“Already have people doing that.”

“Oh. Are you squeamish?”

“Not particularly.”

I shoved the little box into the Turk’s groin and triggered it. He screamed—long, loud, and raw. The bouncer paled. I decided he lied when he said he wasn’t squeamish. Men are like that—always trying to put on a strong front.

 

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PINK MOON ~ BLOG TOUR ~ GIVEAWAY & EXCERPT

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Book Title: Pink Moon

Author Name: Tonya Coffey

Genre: Paranormal/Fantasy/Romance

Hosted by: Ultimate Fantasy Book Tours

 

Blurb:

 

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Cast from her home, Jessa struggles to find a place among the realms. With the loss of power, her premonitions are vague and tormenting. However with Micha at her side, she has hope for the future.

Micha has found his stride as the Ancient King. Nevertheless, the Shadows refuse to allow a Faerie sit on the Ancients’ throne, keeping them apart. Instead of fighting against he Shadows, he focuses his rage on the one who stole Jessa’s powers, a hidden heir herself. When he thinks he has everything under control, he is pulled into a dire situation that will force Jessa’s hand.

Accepting what needs to be done, Jessa takes a risk to save Micha – a choice that may be her last.

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↓Buy Links↓

 

Amazon.com  https://www.amazon.com/New-World-Bk-Pink-Moon-ebook/dp/B01N6968RI

 

 

Author Bio:

tonya-coffey
Tonya grew up in a small town in Kentucky where she lives with her husband and two teen boys. Together, they motivate her to be the best at whatever she faces. If she isn’t writing or reading a fantasy novel with lots of action, you will find her sitting in front of a canvas, painting the landscape which is so abundant around her home.

Visit her at:

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TO ENTER THE GIVEAWAY  JUST CLICK HERE

 

excerpt

 

 

Chapter 2

Micha

The dark chamber rattled as the Shadows filtered in from the depths of darkness and into their perspective throne. Marcus stood before me, a slight smile on his lips. It was an odd appearance to a man who seldom showed emotion.

As I hesitantly walked to the center of the room, whispers echoed around me. My eyes constantly drifted between each of the Shadows and to Marcus, as I tried to understand what was happening. From time to time, words of praise filtered in with word of the Sylph.

Drawing in a breath of stale air, I focused on Marcus and the consequences of my actions. Bren warned me. However, I was too stubborn to listen.

Marcus raised his hand, signaling the others to be quiet as he addressed the king. The crackling of wood in the oversized fireplace filled the silence around us.

“Well done, Micha, King of Ancients.” His voice boomed against the rock walls and carried into the tall ceiling. “We are pleased you took initiative, freeing our people from the Falls.” A rolling echo of conformation carried around the room.

I stood speechless. No words came to mind, as I stood before them. I could not say I did it for a Faery or their queen. They would not understand…or would they? She was the same as I. A mixture of Light and Dark. Would they see her as one of us?

“What do you say, King Micha?” Marcus’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.

Clearing my throat, I pulled some words together. “I did not do it for the praise you bestow upon me. I did it for the…love…I have for the people.” I spoke with some truth.

Marcus stared at me. His eyes narrowed, as if he could read my inner thoughts. Swallowing the lump rising in my throat, I hoped he was blind to my heart. To the real reason, I put myself in danger.

Instead, Marcus lifted his hands up in front of him and clapped. The Shadows followed suite as if they had no mind of their own. Marcus was the puppeteer.

“I am honored to serve such a selfless king.” Bren stepped forward, offering me his hand. I turned to face him and noticed the Bookkeeper hovering in the back corner.

My eyes drifted to the book he clung to then back to Bren. His face held annoyance and his voice was full of sarcasm when he spoke. Then the realization hit me. He tried to warn me. For me to wait for the Ancients, but I refused. Therefore, I would receive the consequences of my actions. The Keeper was there to tell me of my fate—my doom.

“Welcome Keeper,” Marcus called from his throne. “Please read for us the results of a courageous king.”

As the Keeper flipped his book open, he moved forward to stand next to me. I noticed he was not the same blubbering, clumsy man as the first time I had met him. He was confident now. I wondered if I had a hand in the transformation.

“I tried to warn you,” Bren whispered at my side.

Narrowing my eyes at him, I asked, “Warn me about what exactly?” It could not be as bad as he anticipated. Could it?

“You must…”

The Keeper began to read from his book, drowning out Bren’s whisper. “When a king shows compassion and selflessness for his people, it reflects his power and, therefore, he shall pass on that strength to an heir.”

My body went slack. Did I hear him right? I felt as if my world had been ripped away and I was left floating in space. Closing my eyes, I wanted to scream, why?

Turning to Bren, his face solemn, I wanted to strangle him for allowing me to do something that jeopardized my life with Jess. I frowned at him. You should have told me.

“Thank you, Keeper,” Marcus said, “You may go.”

As the Keeper walked away, I turned, facing Bren fully. “Why did you not tell me?”

“I tried,” he whispered, “You would not listen.”

Frustrated, I knew he was right. I would not listen. Jess was in danger and it did not matter what I had to face. Still, I would do it all again.

“I will do what I can to fix it.”

Nodding, I took a breath and faced Marcus.

“Please come forward, King Micha.” As if my soul left my body, I stepped forward meeting Marcus at the bottom of his throne. “We took the liberty of choosing a few beautiful girls who we feel would make strong queens.”

Lifelessly, I followed Marcus to my quarters, Bren lagged behind. “These girls are strong minded, smart and from a worthy line.” He smiled. “Everything you need to carry on your legacy.”

Marcus opened the door, revealing a line of girls waiting in the long hallway outside my chambers. Exhaling, I glanced to Bren. He shrugged as if he knew nothing of it.

“You have until night fall to choose one who…tickles your fancy.”

Marcus turned away as each of the Shadows vanished. Bren closed the distance between us looking down the hallway, as I asked, “How will you fix this?”

Bren placed his palm on my shoulder. “I am not sure but have some faith in me.”

Bren began to walk forward but I grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Let’s walk around and enter through the other door. I am not ready to face them yet.” He nodded and closed the door. I only wished it was on the entire ordeal.

 

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The Shaman’s Carving ~ Blog Tour with Give& Excerpt

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Title: The Shaman’s Carving
Author: Jordan Altman
Genre: Fantasy
Hosted by: Ultimate Fantasy Book Tours

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Blurb:
Elia is tired of her life as a peasant, the young girl seeks adventure and fame. With her best friend, the Baron’s son, in tow, the children enter the forbidden ruins where a gift of magic awaits to be discovered. For hidden deep in the mysterious ancient city sits a totem, a magical carving that will change the lives of all those within the Barony of Riverhill forever. Yet, stalking the children lurks a creature with a dark purpose. A choice lays before Elia, to let sleeping dogs lie or to pursue the mystic arts of becoming a wizard in Shamanism.

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Buy Links: https://www.amazon.com/Shamans-Carving-Jordan-Altman-ebook/dp/B01MRN99X3/

Author Bio:

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Jordan Altman is a Geologist who has worked from the Land of the Midnight Sun to the Canadian Shield. Recently taking up creative writing, his adventures within reality are now being matched by those of his imagination.

Author’s Social Media Links:

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To enter the giveaway just click on the rafflecopter image.

$20 Dollar Amazon Voucher.

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excerpt

From Chapter 1

“I don’t think we should enter the ruins,” said Locrian with a quaver of fear in his voice. His squinting eyes peered beyond Elia, viewing a stone city overrun with the return of nature. “Maybe we should turn around?”

“Don’t be afraid. I’ll protect you.” Elia smirked at Locrian who was keeled over, gasping for air. He was the only overweight child in the village.

While waiting for her friend to recover from the climb, Elia gazed across the valley to her village and the high castle of their Liege Lord. “The Baron will be happy you got your exercise for the day, plus there’s the return trip too!”

“Don’t mention the hike back yet, I’d roll down the hill to the river if we tried now.” Locrian sat down on the dew-covered weeds then looked up to Elia. “My father won’t be happy if we enter the haunted ruins.”

“Then we won’t tell him, will we?” quipped Elia as she walked away from Locrian towards a crumbled wall of grey stone. The thrill of adventure made her excited, and a haunted city destroyed ages ago promised its fill. She unslung a burlap sack from her shoulder. Opening it, Elia plucked out a fistful of berries she collected along the way and tossed them into her mouth.

“Can’t we sit for a while?” moaned Locrian from behind. His lungs wheezed with every exhale.

Elia turned, brushing aside her oily hair in a futile effort as the bangs returned to drape over her dark brown eyes.

“You want to sit? After all those stories we’ve learnt about the haunted ruins; the monster, the siege, the ghost, and all you want to do is sit?” exclaimed Elia with a mouthful of berries.

“All those stories and you want to go in!” burst out Locrian.

Elia walked over to him and put out her arms for Locrian to reach. Once their hands interlocked, she heaved herself backwards, pulling the boy up to his feet while almost falling rearward herself. They had to stick together for neither had any other friends. Bullies in town would pick on Locrian for his weight and Elia for being more of a boy than a proper girl.

“Your beautiful clothes are all wet,” said Elia as she admired his well-tailored cloth over the tattered garbs of peasantry she wore.

“That’s more from the sweat than the dew,” said Locrian.

Elia led the way as Locrian followed. They glided their finger tips along the moist tips of the waist-high grass. Upon entering through a hole in the wall, one of many, they surveyed the ruins before them. The ancient city appeared to stretch out to eternity, though many of the crumbled structures laid hidden in the overgrowth of centuries.

“Wow, this place is a hundred times larger than your father’s castle and courtyard,” said Elia with awe. She always gazed at the ruins from afar, imagining how they appeared up close. Yet, now here, the ancient city had gone beyond surpassing her expectations. “It must have taken forever to build all of this!” Elia admired the limestone blocks. She tore at the vines, setting free the slabs of stone and the weathered masonry. Elia gasped at what appeared underfoot. “Look, even the ground is stone.”

Locrian looked down and kicked at the grass and dirt until the cobbles of the road emerged, weathered and broken. “What happened here?” he asked as much to himself as to Elia.

Elia paused, she looked around, no longer taking in the view, but inspecting it. “The stories I was taught say a monster sacked the city, perhaps a dragon. By the look of all the caved-in buildings, that might be true. Though, maybe not… Dragons can breathe out fire that melts rock. These ruins are all broken, not scorched.”

“A monster?”

“Yep, and a big one too!” Elia played with Locrian’s fear. She knew he didn’t like monsters, and dragons were his least favourite.

“Well, the stories I’ve been told weren’t of what happened here long ago. I was taught about the dangers of entering the forbidden ruins. Ghosts and ghouls that will frighten me to death, creatures that will eat me alive, and plants that will poison me till I bloat and explode. Then if I somehow make it back unharmed, I’d risk my father’s wrath at being disobeyed.” Locrian looked back towards the direction of home. “Let’s go back, we’ve checked this place out. Now, we should return before anyone finds us missing.”

“We haven’t explored yet. Plus, if they never notice us when we’re there, no one will notice us missing.”  She didn’t want to return. Home had misery but this place offered excitement. “I want to see more.” She then turned to Locrian. “You have your castle, all I have to visit is the wheat fields, and the pig pens. This is like a whole new world; it’s waiting for us to discover it. Let’s be explorers and see if we can find any treasures.”

Elia walked deeper into the foliage covered urban landscape, not looking back. She walked with determination and confidence. Any fear from the stories, which Elia had, she ignored as they were being outmatched by the prospect of adventure.

“Hey, wait up!”

The two children disappeared into the ruins where the only sound was a girl’s vocalised astonishment and a boy’s wheezing.

Elia grabbed hold of a vine and pulled herself up. As she climbed an old oak, Locrian stood at the base and watched.

“It’s not my castle,” said Locrian in a whisper.

“What’s that?” asked Elia from above. She loved climbing trees. When Elia sat at the top of a tree she always felt better about her life. She no longer was tied down to the world, a tree offered her a glimpse at freedom.

“You said, it’s my castle. It’s not. It’s more akin to a prison.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. I live in a shack, with two brothers and four sisters. Three of us eat one day, the others, the next. I sleep on a pile of hay that gives me a rash in the morning.” From the tree’s top, Elia saw more of the ruins.  She spotted a large building with a dome further to their south.

“Sorry,” said Locrian as he lowered his head.

“Plus, one day you’ll be the Baron,” said Elia with emotion, trying to cheer him up. Sadness then draped over her. “One day, you’ll forget about me and marry a Lady. I’ll be nothing but a farmhand, working in the fields.”

“Me, a Baron?”

Elia knew Locrian didn’t like the prospect of succeeding his father. “Yep, and you’ll rule the whole village!”

“Well, when I become the Baron, I’ll Knight you!” he told Elia as she climbed down and returned to his side.

“A Knight!” she exclaimed with excitement. “Imagine, Sir Elia, Knight of the Barony of Riverhill!” With a grand smirk, she jumped up and snapped off a branch from the oak.

“I don’t think people would call you Sir Elia as you are a girl.”

“Do I get a sword?”

“Yes, of course you do.”

“Good! Then the people will call me whatever I want!” Elia’s smirk reappeared as she swiped at the tree’s trunk with her branch of a sword. “Come on, I saw somewhere I want to check out.”

They continued on through the ancient city, weaving their way through the overgrowth and slabs of grey stone. Elia sang a tune about an old knight who slew a giant as the sun shined in their eyes.

“Still a few hours till noon, but we should head back soon.” Locrian’s voice wavered with anxiety.

“After this last place I want to see, we’ll call it a day and return to the village.” Elia sang and skipped while attacking the air with her tree branch. “Maybe, we’ll find a real sword in the domed building.” At the prospect of steel in her hand, she quickened her pace while Locrian followed with hesitation.

Thick, green vines tangled their way up the structure, knotting over one another. The domed citadel sat in disrepair before them. Ten storeys tall was the building, with a diameter of 30 yards. An old elm grew from within, emerging through the dome, in a bloom of life.

“Let’s go in,” said Elia with excitement.

Before Locrian could protest, she grabbed his hand and pulled him through a pair of stone doors set ajar.

Inside, the brightness of the day faded away to an ominous grey. Illumination came from beams of light, pillars of the sun which shot through holes and cracks in the ceiling.

The vegetation was different than outside. There was no grass. Only a few fat weeds grew between the crags in the stone floor. Dendritic purple moss covered the rest of the ground while red mushrooms grew, some big enough to sit on.

“I don’t like it in here,” said Locrian. “One of my teachers taught me how poisonous some mushrooms can be, and these looked rather troublesome. Plus, it’s kind of dark in here.

“It’s kinda spooky, isn’t it?” Elia looked around at the shambled structure. The dank place was full of decay and shadows. “I love it!”

They passed through tight hallways, over piles of rubble and crawled through a constricted room where the roof had caved in. At last, they entered the main chamber with the grand dome overhead.

The area was massive, consisting the majority of the building. The chamber was colossal compared to the dining hall of the Baron’s castle. At the far end, an elm tree grew through the roof, creating shifting shadows.

The children walked in deeper, breathing in the stale air and smelling the strong scent of sour vegetation. Elia shivered at the temperature as the cooling interior and darkness created an illusion of night.

“This must have been the main administrative building of the city,” stated Locrian.

“What’s that mean?”

“It’s a place where the city rulers govern and hold meetings,” said Locrian.

“Ummm, okay.” Elia didn’t like the majority of subjects taught to Locrian. Only when he spoke of Sir Vuhtre’s weapons training did she ever perk up and pry every last morsel of information from him.

“What’s that?” asked Elia, seeing something small standing on the floor with a beam of light shining straight down upon it. It appeared to be a little statue or something similar.

“What’s what?” Locrian quickened his pace to form up beside Elia, wanting a look for himself but tripped over a vine that grabbed at his foot.

The sound of his fall reverberated inside the chamber. With the bouncing of the echoes went a cloud of bats that hung in the dome’s rafters. The flying rodents flew over their heads, screeching at them. Locrian screamed while Elia swatted at them with her branch. They swirled above them until finding a hole in the dome to escape into the bright daylight outside.

“I want to go home!” cried out Locrian as he tried to untangle himself from the vine that wrapped itself around his ankle.

“Okay, give me a moment, though.”

“Where are you going? Come on, let’s go!”

Elia left Locrian’s side and dashed over to the small object several yards away. She stood over it, then bent down and snatched it up. It felt like a wooden carving in her hands, but under the rush of Locrian’s nagging, she didn’t have the time to make out the sculpture’s appearance.

“What was that noise?” Locrian asked on the edge of tears.

Elia stuffed the carving into a pocket within her garments and stood silent, straining her ears. “I hear nothing, it’s only your imagination.”

“No, I heard something,” protested Locrian, demanding Elia stop and listen.

An irregular wind emerged from within the recess of the derelict building. The noise wheezed, like Locrian after a run, but also gargled as it resonated off the stone and vegetation.

Elia returned to Locrian’s side, shaking with him but refusing to budge as they listened to the unbalanced wind.

“It’s not the wind,” whispered Elia into Locrian’s ear. “It’s something breathing.”
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Blog Tour ~ The Rise of the Queen ~ Excerpt with Giveaway

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Title: The Rise of the Queen

Author: Aoife Marie Sheridan

Genre: Paranormal/Fantasy/Romance

Hosted by: Ultimate Fantasy Book Tours

 

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Blurb:

 

FROM AWARD WINNING AUTHOR AOIFE MARIE SHERIDAN

The final Instalment of the Saskia Trilogy.

Sarajane struggles with her separation from Tristan as she moves towards the heart of Saskia to defeat Lucian. But her journey isn’t easy. She encounters The Forsaken, zombies and fights to recover her true form. But with Marcus beside her and the help of Willow she makes her journey to her final destination but nothing is as it seems.

Verona and Mirium try to understand why their visions are gone, what Prudentia is up to? and find Sarajane. All the while Tristan and Verona are at war with each other, and politics makes each decision difficult with Morrick.

Loved one’s will be lost, Decisions will be final, and all betrayals will rise to the surface.

Step into Saskia for the last time.

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↓Buy Links↓

 

 

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About the Author:

 

Aoife Marie Sheridan has loved reading from a very young age, starting off with mills and boon books given to by her grandmother. Her love for romances grew, by the age of 14 she had read hundreds of them.

Aoife has a passion for writing poetry or in her eyes her journal entries. It was something she did throughout her teens and into her twenties. Aoife won first place for two of her poems and had them published at a young age of just nineteen.

Aoife’s first book Eden Forest (Part one of the Saskia Trilogy) took first place with Writers Got Talent 2013. Aoife continues to write tales of fantasy and romance.

To find out more about Aoife Marie Sheridan you can visit her at:

Amazon Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00B5W8SK6

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Aoifemariesheri

Website: www.aoifemariesheridan.com

or email her at aoifesheridan101@gmail.com

Blog: aoifesheri.wordpress.com

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Mailing List: http://aoifemariesheridan.us7.list-ma…

 

 

excerpt

 

Chapter ~ 1 ~ Verona

 

The room felt bitterly cold from my earlier absence; I lighted the two candles that sat on a small wooden table beside the unlit fire. The armchair creaked under my weight. My eyelids fluttered feeling too heavy to keep open. Too many vision had plagued me lately, every one of them the same, always the same. I let out a heavy sigh. A smile tugged on my lips.

Mirium.

He would light the fire.

The door opened and I looked up at Mirium as he rubbed his hands together, already making his way to the fireplace. Too pampered, I had always teased him, but that tonight I would be glad of his want for heat, for I felt the cold myself.

“Verona, you will catch your death of cold one day.”

A laugh escaped my lips. “Oh brother just light the fire. I am too tired to fight.”

He looked at me with concern, but shook his head and continued to stack small sticks into the fireplace before lighting them. I drifted off into a light sleep, still aware of the movements around me. I could hear the noise of water. The rattle of mugs. He must have been brewing some sort of concoction, but there was none that stopped the visions. At least the brew would warm me.

“Drink Sister of mine.” He said the words so gently.

I took the cup and smiled at Mirium’s loving face. It wasn’t often we could be like that, so unguarded, so relaxed, allowing us to be just a brother and sister, to act naturally, instead of always being under the watchful eye of someone who would use us against each other. Our distance with each other was the only way to keep us safe.

“Tell me about the visions, are they still the same?” Mirium sat down, while leaning his staff against the corner of the red bricked fireplace. The fireplace was done in a beautiful arch, the craftsmanship remarkable.

“I don’t recall the first one, but I know I have been having the same vision from when I was a child. I see her so clearly, long, dark, curly hair flowing on a light breeze. Her eyes are an unnatural grey, but a grey I have seen before.” I take a long look at Mirium and the eyes I speak of. A sadness fell upon him, but I continued. “She was really beautiful. I always remember being awed by her beauty, thinking she couldn’t be real, but she was. She was very real, and more enchanting in person.” I shake my head pushing away the picture that played out so clearly in front of me; we all know the end.  Sipping my brew stops me from talking.

“You have known for so long,” Mirium said while looking at me with pity, understanding the path that had been laid out before me. I didn’t want to do it, but that was the way of the world. I had no choice.

“I told you not to get too close, Mirium. You should have listened to me.” I didn’t say it with anger, as I was too tired for that, just pity at the understanding of what my brother may have to lose.

A heavy silence fell upon us. I didn’t want it to be like that, as our reunion should have been full of chatter. Since I arrived to Hummus it had been all business. With the war against the exiles and banishing Suraga, we hadn’t had time to just be  brother and sister, but instead we now sit in silence. I didn’t want silence, but I had nothing to fill in the gaps.

“It is God’s will,” Mirium said, and he seemed lost in thought for a few more moments. “I don’t feel her. Do you?” he asked not in alarm just more mild curiosity. Mirium could always seem to feel Sarajane. I think it was her life force he felt but I couldn’t. I wasn’t as gifted as Mirium and he knew it.

“I’m not like you brother as well you know, so don’t jest me with such questions.” A niggling feeling ran across me, like hundreds of spiders racing across my bare flesh at once.

“What’s wrong?” Mirium asked.Now fear filled his voice, and I knew he sensed it too. I was unsure what, but something very bad had just happened.

Mirium grabbed his staff while I tied my long red cloak around my shoulders it would be no match for the weather that had started to rage outside, but I just knew that we needed to move, and fast.

 

The wind outside whipped at us likes an angry circus entertainer, but we moved fast against its onslaught. The streets were now deserted, people still in mourning or celebrating our small victory against the exiles; it was a small victory compared to what we must face and that was Lucian, a dark fallen angel who Sarajane must banish to the underworld.

The fires from the dead were nearly out. Red embers danced with the wind swirling them around in fast moving spheres.  I turned in a full circle, the sensation was gone, leaving me feeling only the cold. But something had happened.

“Let me go and check on Sarajane. You go back to the cottage,” Mirium said, his brow creased. He left not waiting for a reply from me. His love for Sarajane was becoming too much. He would lose her, he needed to understand that. He would be the one that would hurt the most in the end.

Mirium was Sarajane’s grandfather. He had missed the first twenty one years of her life as she was brought up in the mortal world with no knowledge of Saskia. But the time had come for her to take her rightful place and go up against Lucian. It was a huge task to ask of anyone, especially from someone who came from a world where magic and angels didn’t exist. I let out a heavy sigh so much weighted upon her final decision in the future. It was life or death. All I could do was hope that my hands wouldn’t bring death to the saviour of Saskia.

I moved towards the cottage, turning my back on the dead and that horrible feeling raced across my skin again. I turned, but no one was in sight. Moving slowly towards the fires that lay just outside Humus’s fallen walls, I searched the perimeter. I couldn’t see much as the darkness was heavy and lay thickly on the ground. Squinting out into the darkness, I was sure something moved. I stood and waited, watching. There it was again.

How long I waited for Mirium, I wasn’t sure, but I rubbed my freezing hands together never taking my eyes off the spot where something lay. I had made that much out so far but what it was, I couldn’t see from that distance.

“I can’t find her, or Tristan for that matter.” Mirium said. I smiled against the bitter cold.

“Their young,” I said, already knowing I was wrong and just wishing I was right.

“Something’s out there.” I pointed and Mirium followed my finger. He too squinted and then he moved towards it with certainty. I followed quickly on his heels. The darkness seemed to consume us, its black blanket swallowing us up the deeper we went. I shivered against the cold and the unpleasant feeling that clung to me. Mirium had reached the area where the movements where. I came up right behind him. “What is it?” I asked, trying to see over his shoulder. When he turned around I could see what he was looking at. My breath hitched. Tristan was crumbled on the ground; a large pool of blood ran from underneath him. The source of the wound came from an arrow protruding out of his side.

“Is he dead?” I asked as I reached to check the pulse in his neck. It was fading.

“He will be soon if we don’t get him out of here,” Mirium said with grief all over his face.

“Sarajane?” I questioned, afraid of the answer.

Mirium shook his head, the grief too much. “I don’t know, Verona. I don’t know.”

I patted my brother on the back, hoping the small gesture would comfort him before we both lifted Tristan and carried him back inside the fallen walls of Humus.

 

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Blog Tour ~ High Summons ~ Excerpt

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Title: High Summons

Author: Eli Celata

Genre: Paranormal/Fantasy

Hosted by: Ultimate Fantasy Book Tours

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Blurb:

Jon Blythe is sick of waiting for his Yoda. After years of hiding his magic, he’s ready to retire from his mortal life, drop out of college, and jump into the world of demon hunters. He just didn’t really expect a bleach blond bookstore clerk with light up toys for weapons. Unfortunately, Jordan is Jon’s only hope. When rogue magic users come to Rochester with a malicious plan, the odd couple strikes out to save the day. Jordan might not be what Jon expected, but between demons and Econ homework, the demons win every time. Wild nights drag Jon further from normal into the world where his father vanished. Maybe he’s becoming an addict. Maybe magic just comes with a price. Either way, he’s hooked.

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Author Bio:

Eli Celata was born in Rochester and is currently attending Binghamton University as a doctoral student.

Author’s Social Media Links:

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Buy Links for Book:

Amazon:  https://goo.gl/PQ7lzh

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iTunes: https://itun.es/us/MEqCdb.l

 

excerpt

 

We walked almost three blocks before stopping on a more artistic side of town.

Random indie stores lined the side of the street we were on, and outside a coffee shop, a homeless man in ragged clothing sat with a drunken smile upon his lips.

His eyes, a light gray, were clouded by exhaustion or drugs or who knows what. His lips were chapped and seemed white due to the skin peeling off of them. His hair was a soft red and in general disarray casting odd shadows across his upturned face. He had antique spectacles resting on the tip of his nose. They were wire frames and the glass was shaped into thin rectangles. A flush covered his already sunburned skin, and a small coffee can, the old tin kind, sat at his side. Scrawled in black sharpie were the words,

“Poetry for Your Soul.”

He seemed completely normal, and if I had any money, I might have given him some if it weren’t for the whole soul-wanting business. When we reached him, a group of young women in their teens were gathered around him. They were giggling as girls were ought to do, and they glanced between each other conspiratorially.

Jordan’s pace slowed from a brisk walk to a leisurely pace, though any

onlooker wouldn’t have been able to see the difference in the way he walked.

He always looked like he was gliding across the world, or maybe just standing still as it flew by him.

“Fair ladies.” The man’s smile was open, and it made me smile even from a bit off. “You asked for a poem and yet gave me some change instead of your soul. Whatever am I to do with this?”

He held up a handful of nickels, dimes, and pennies with a few quarters before letting it fall between his fingers and back into the can. “I suppose it is for the best; I should not hunt in the Devil’s territory.”

“Where’s our poem?” One of them sneered while the others laughed behind false coy hands.

“Infantile child, challenging years with disdain and contempt / Fearless in a mind lying within the hands of a merciless god / Thinking kindly of yourself, but you are nothing more / than a doll talking without speaking /

hears, without listening. Infantile child, / little girl who claims her place upon the world / without knowing what lies within it, / can you not see you are nothing / more than a blink of my eyes. / I sleep longer than you have been alive. / I have taken higher breathes than all of yours added upon each other.” He lifted his head as he spoke, and when he was finished, he let out a breath slowly as if to emphasize his point as his face upturned again.

The one girl turned and stormed into the coffee shop, swearing beneath

her breath. Jordan and I stopped and hung back as the rest of the girls looked at the man and chanted, almost as one, “What about me? Make a poem for me!”

The hand resting on the can after letting the coins drop pointed at one of the remaining three girls. “Here is the day which casts no shadows. / Stand forth and let your words become / the stars you gaze upon at night. / There is someone listening / to each as if it was a universe within its own. / Reach out to the hand holding yours / when darkness cast no light upon your lips.”

His finger stretched and pointed at another while the one turned and texted someone on her phone. “Sinister, the eyes which see. / Cold, those who are blind. / What lamb falls to the slaughter? / What love have you left behind? /

Where is your taunting smile now, / oh forgotten mistress all to waste? /

Could you taunt the stars for shining / because they leave your eyes

disgraced?” The woman who he had been pointing to looked resigned at his words as if she refused to argue what she knew to be true of her character.

“And me?” a soft voice came from the sad eyes of the third.

The man’s brows knotted, and his lips turned downwards in empathy.

“Standings, arms spread /a sacrifice for you, / calling the names /of the demons / who haunted your day. / Swearing life, / swearing blood for you. /

Giving everything away, / just so you might survive. /Wings like an angel’s, /

but blackened with soot. / Lightning makes the sky dance. / The earth trembles in fear /as the flames rise. / He died for you. / Fell into the darkness for you. / Gave his life / for you. / He died, / he lived, /all for you / until the end. /And even then, / it was all for you.”

The girl’s hands trembled and came before her lips which quaked as if to allow sobs to pass. Tears rolled down her pallid cheeks, and she shook her head as if it would rid her of the emotion. The man simply looked on with a light envy in his otherwise flat features. He seemed distant while appearing intrigued at the same time.

Finally, the last one’s hands dropped enough her lips were visible as

she whispered, “Thank you,” and fled with her friends following close after her, leaving the man alone.

He stared down at his hands and said to no one, “Again, I have spoken of you with praise. This time, have I earned forgiveness for a deed for which I will never apologize?” He then bowed his head and waited. “Your voice echoes in the Absence. / It spills over the world and gives life. / Life was never known till you whispered. / Love was never known till you sang. / Your voice echoes in the highest mountains and lowest seas. / Your voice echoes in the Absence.”

“Oh, Belial.” Jordan shook his head as if commiserating with the man—

demon, he had to be a demon. “The last one was honestly one of the worst poems you have spouted out to date. You’re getting sloppy.”

To be honest, I liked it, but I wasn’t bringing it up then. As we

already discussed, literature critique wasn’t my strong suit, and

complimenting demons wasn’t on my to-do list. He looked especially human.

There weren’t any extra limbs or creepy teeth. Compared to every demon I’d ever seen, he was perfectly human, if a bit drugged out. Plus, the level of

communication put him in a category undoubtedly out of my league.

“I know. I know…oh how I comprehend. But there is little I can do,” Belial replied softly. “This is the twelfth time you have passed…will you leave in the same manner or do you challenge?”

Looking at me over his shoulder, Jordan smiled. “Eashians won’t attack

at random like other demons. However, their idea of random and ours is a bit different.” I couldn’t help but tense. “It will only tempt when challenged to tempt and will only harm when challenged to harm.”

“I get he’s a demon, but he seems awfully—calm…” It wasn’t the right

word. I didn’t have the right word to explain he seemed too human.

“If all demons are the remnants of fallen angels, than

Eashians are the ones who shattered the least while still shattering at least a minute amount. Eashians have names,” Jordan explained gesturing at Belial.

“Like the Devil.”

“What?” I stepped back. “I don’t think I’m up for anything so powerful.”

“He’s not too powerful,” Jordan informed me though Belial’s eyebrows

knotted, and he looked up at Jordan with an accusing stare. “Those who didn’t shatter—the three born, Lilith, and the Devil—have the capacity to recognize names, both their own and others. Eashians don’t acknowledge the other. Often they’ll call you by their name,” Jordan explained as he looked back at Belial.

“They are also more likely to respond to a single particular emotional output than any other.”

“I respond well to lust.” Belial smiled, and his eyes sparkled from

beneath his spectacles. “But most won’t be as forthright as I am about it. I suspect it is why Belial hasn’t blasted me to oblivion yet.”

At first, I thought he was joking when he said Belial instead of Jordan, but the expression on his face was absolutely serious. Quickly jotting down what I had been told, I realized the sun had been up for a good long while, yet Belial was still outside.

“Why isn’t Belial dead? Did he just show up?”

“No, he’s been here all day.” Jordan’s eyes narrowed. “Possibly longer

considering the amount of coins.”

“The sun’s setting in an hour or two—like seriously, going on four

o’clock,” I said glancing between Belial and Jordan. I was totally the kid who got all disappointed when facts learned in one class were disproved in the next year.

Belial sighed and looked down at his wristwatch, which was a tacky piece of plastic in the shape of Big Ben. “It isn’t terribly late…”

“Eashians also have a penchant for killing themselves. Due to their emotional disconnection, they can’t always feel their voids and often stay on Earth too long,” Jordan told me, and I focused my eyes to see the dark nothing of Belial’s void. It was about the size of a motorcycle. I had to admit I was impressed. “Belial’s one of the more peaceful ones. After him, Abigor is probably the least threatening.”

“I know that one!” Belial exclaimed. “He likes to sing a lot. He’s the

Belial pinned to revelry. All braids and no brains that one.”

The street suddenly seemed to empty in a most certainly unnatural way.

It was then I noticed we were not where I thought we had been. Instead of on a street corner, we were in an alley, and Belial was standing. He stretched and smiled gently at Jordan. Jordan pulled a can of hair spray out of a pocket somewhere in his jacket and his lighter out of his back pocket. Belial frowned.

“You didn’t think I’d just let you win, did you?” Jordan jested with a

smile, and it was the weirdest thing. The smile was more genuine than any other smile Jordan had given. He looked like he was exactly where he wanted to be, which I suppose he was.

Belial shook his head. “God has forgotten me.”

Jordan didn’t say a thing. He just flicked one and pushed down the other.

A flame threw itself toward Belial, completely engulfing him. I was certain Belial’s void would be completely gone by the time the first few minutes passed, but Jordan held tightly to both even as a light pink stained the thumb of his lighter hand. When the flame finally stopped, Jordan tossed the empty can aside. Belial was unharmed and swaying a bit on his feet as though he were drunk more than anything else. I held back a curse of bemusement and squinted to see if his void was whole. During the time I was searching for it, Jordan pulled out a bottle of lighter fluid and squirted some at Belial. I followed the line of liquid and saw the void; it was no bigger than a basketball.

“I’m insulted—I think,” Belial muttered as he stared down at the line of fluid. He picked up his void and looked at it as if it had done something to him.

Jordan lit a match and tossed it. I was sure it would have hit the void, but Belial blew it out midair. “Seriously, you’re going to be like this about it?” Jordan asked, and Belial glowered.

“You’re trying to completely destroy me and you ask if I’m going to be

like this? You are a shower, Belial!” The demon roared, and Jordan burst out laughing. Belial frowned knowing he had messed up somewhere along the line.

“You mean ‘douche,’” Jordan corrected and lit another match.

This time he lit two wooden things, three-inch cubes I believe, and

threw one after another. Belial jumped around dodging the blows until he took a bit of a wrong turn and stood only a foot away from Jordon. His void was

still in his arms. It was dark and swirling in its emptiness. “Crap,” was the last word he said as Jordan flicked the match.

The world around us exploded.

 

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​ The Pawn by Skye Warren Blog Tour

The Pawn

by Skye Warren

Publication Date: December 6, 2016

Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

 

 Purchase: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iBooks | Google Play

The price of survival…

Gabriel Miller swept into my life like a storm. He tore down my father with cold retribution, leaving him penniless in a hospital bed. I quit my private all-girl’s college to take care of the only family I have left.

There’s one way to save our house, one thing I have left of value.

My virginity.

A forbidden auction…

Gabriel appears at every turn. He seems to take pleasure in watching me fall. Other times he’s the only kindness in a brutal underworld.

Except he’s playing a deeper game than I know. Every move brings us together, every secret rips us apart. And when the final piece is played, only one of us can be left standing.

THE PAWN is a full-length contemporary novel from New York Times bestselling author Skye Warren about revenge and seduction in the game of love.

About Skye Warren

Skye Warren is the New York Times bestselling author of dark romance such as Wanderlust and Prisoner. Praised as a “true mistress of dark erotica”, her books have been featured in Jezebel, Buzzfeed, USA Today Happily Ever After, Glamour, and Elle Magazine. She makes her home in Texas with her loving family, four dogs, and one evil cat.

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