Roxanne Rhoads's Blog, page 308

Enlightenment by Liz Keel

My Inspiration
A culmination of many different parts of my life have inspired me to write over the years. Since I was young, I’ve fallen in love with fantasy stories; books like ‘The Enchanted Forest’ by Enid Blyton had me wishing I could be one of the human protagonists as they discover there are far off worlds previously thought to be make-believe. As they share in exciting adventures and meet magical creatures, I would often think of my own worlds they could visit and what might happen there. Then, when I was a little older, I moved on to C.S.Lewis; I tried so many times to get my wardrobe to transport me to Narnia and wanted so badly to be part of that world! 

This addiction to fantasy stories continued into my teenage years and with so many stories out there set in mystical lands, I spent a lot of my free time day-dreaming of journeying to these other-worldly places. I just loved the idea that maybe there was something else out there and wondered what it would be like to find out you were the special one chosen to go save another world or were more than just human. 

Authors themselves have proven to be an inspiration to me as well. Take J.K Rowling for instance, the way she didn’t give up and remained determined to become published, even when her first book in the Harry Potter series was rejected numerous times makes her an inspiration to other authors out there struggling to get published themselves.  

Lastly the world we live in always plays an important part in my story telling.  Without even thinking about it, something I’ve seen or watched such as an advert or going for a walk in the woods will become a starting point for one of my stories or characters. 

EnlightenmentThe Driel TrilogyLiz Keel
Publisher: Fire Quill Publishing
Release Date: 21st April 2016
ISBN:  9780996974875 ISBN:  9780994664198 
Book Description:
After losing everything, all seventeen-year-old Thea wanted was to be a normal teenager. Instead, she was attacked by a mysterious creature she thought only existed in fairy tales. 
Now thrown into the unknown realm of Faey, Thea is forced to determine the difference between reality and fantasy, in a world ruled by a dark elite and a society wracked by intolerance and prejudice. With the support of her new friends and a mysterious dark haired, blue-eyed guardian watching her every move, Thea will discover that when it comes to Faey, nothing is what it seems. 
Will her courage and desire to save this new world from darkness be enough? Or will Thea be the next victim to fall to the dark whispers of fate...
Barnes and Noble    iBooks    Kobo Books    Amazon    Amazon Paperback

About the Author:
I live in Surrey, England, a short walk from the beautiful Windsor Park, with my husband Richard and our two gorgeous children Noah and Olivia. For me, writing is nothing short of an addiction and I often find myself sneaking out to my writing shed for just a few minutes, which can often turn into hours of pure, unadulterated bliss catching up with my characters and continuing their story. 
In-between writing, I teach in a primary school where there’s never a dull moment! I will also often be found Kindle in hand, reading a wide variety of genres but with YA fantasy and paranormal romance at the forefront of my reading list. Although I’m currently writing the second book in the Driel trilogy, other characters involving all things fantasy, paranormal and YA romance are jockeying for position, wanting me to write their story next, so watch this space! It is such a privilege to share my stories with you the reader. Thank you enough for taking the time to find out more about me. 
To find out more about Liz, visit her website: www.lizkeelauthor.com
https://twitter.com/LizKeelAuthor
https://www.facebook.com/lizkeelauthor/

The Alchemy of Wolves By Laura Bickle

Alchemy is a strange and beautiful art. Its practitioners sought to transform base metals into gold and search for the secret to immortality. Through a series of destructive and constructive processes, an element would be purified and transformed. Some symbols appear and reappear in the texts as secret notations for processes and elements, and I love playing with them as plot points. Wolves are one of those points in NINE OF STARS.

NINE OF STARS centers around a pack of wolves, the Nine Stars pack. Once upon a time, they were human shapeshifters, but they forgot their magic and have remained suspended in the bodies of wolves for centuries. They’ve had a rough go of it, lately – it’s been a tough winter, and they’re searching for new hunting grounds. In doing so, they’ve wandered into the territory of an eighteenth-century spirit, Skinflint Jack, who harbors a grudge against wolves. Jack pursues them across the snows of Yellowstone, a magical predator chasing once-magical prey.




Petra Dee, my protagonist, is a geologist on the trail of the wolves. Though she’s the daughter of an alchemist, she’s an ordinary woman, with no magic of her own. She’s trying to stop Skinflint Jack using her wits and the tools at her disposal, whatever she can find or cobble together. 

In alchemy, the Grey Wolf is used as a symbol for antimony. Antimony sometimes forms a silvery starlike structure – it’s very pretty, in many of its states. It’s a symbol for the wild, animal nature of the world. Antimony devours nearby elements, and is one of the elements traditionally used in bullet casting. 

Antimony is also an important element in the separation process of alchemy, when elements are purified, and the alchemist must decide what’s worth saving from the fire and reaction of the process – essentially discerning what could be gold, and what is likely worthless. I began to think how this might relate to my plot.

I decided to make antimony Jack’s weakness – the Grey Wolf is his nemesis and also his vulnerability. When Petra discovers this, she uses antimony to cast bullets in the hopes of striking him down. It’s a difficult process in the conditions of the snowy backcountry, a long-shot experiment…but it will be worth it if this symbol of the wolves can be used to put Skinflint Jack in the ground, where he belongs.  





Nine of Stars A Wildlands Novel   Laura Bickle
On Sale Date: December 27, 2016
ISBN: 9780062437662 
Genre:  Contemporary Fantasy 
Publisher: Harper Voyager
About the Book:
Following on the heels of her critically acclaimed prequel novels Dark Alchemy and Mercury Retrograde comes the first installment in Laura Bickle’s dark contemporary fantasy series, Nine of Stars, a Wildlands Novel
Winter has always been a deadly season in Temperance, but this time, there’s more to fear than just the cold…
As the daughter of an alchemist, Petra Dee has faced all manner of occult horrors—especially since her arrival in the small town of Temperance, Wyoming. But she can’t explain the creature now stalking the backcountry of Yellowstone, butchering wolves and leaving only their skins behind in the snow. Rumors surface of the return of Skinflint Jack, a nineteenth-century wraith that kills in fulfillment of an ancient bargain.
The new sheriff in town, Owen Rutherford, isn’t helping matters. He’s a dangerously haunted man on the trail of both an unsolved case and a fresh kill—a bizarre murder leading him right to Petra’s partner Gabriel. And while Gabe once had little to fear from the mortal world, he’s all too human now. This time, when violence hits close to home, there are no magical solutions.
It’s up to Petra and her coyote sidekick Sig to get ahead of both Owen and the unnatural being hunting them all—before the trail turns deathly cold.
Amazon     HarperCollins       Kobo       GooglePlay       BN

About the Author:
Laura Bickle grew up in rural Ohio, reading entirely too many comic books out loud to her favorite Wonder Woman doll. After graduating with an MA in Sociology-Criminology from Ohio State University and an MLIS in Library Science from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee, she patrolled the stacks at the public library and worked with data systems in criminal justice. She now dreams up stories about the monsters under the stairs. Her work has been included in the ALA’s Amelia Bloomer Project 2013 reading list and the State Library of Ohio’s Choose to Read Ohio reading list for 2015-2016.
More information about Laura’s work can be found at www.laurabickle.com
https://twitter.com/Laura_Bickle   
https://www.facebook.com/Author.Laura.Bickle




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Beyond Every Mirror by Christine Church

Beyond Every MirrorAnachronistic Dimensions Trilogy Book OneChristine Church
Genre: Romantic Fantasy
Publisher: Grey Horse Press
Paperback Publication: 10-31-16Kindle Publication: 11-30-16
ISBN: 978-0692782705ASIN: B01MG56AW1
Number of pages:  370Word Count: 130,000
Cover Artist: Christine Church
Book Description:
Beside his own image, Dane Bainbridge sees another; a ginger haired beauty--behind her, red mountains and clouds as if from another world. He's seen her his entire life, a life filled with glamour and fame... and loneliness. For the woman in the mirror is his one true love. But, this he does not know, not until he is dragged into her world--one of beasts and lands beyond imagination. One where his sacrifice is the only thing keeping her and the world in which she resides alive. 
Once they are together, he remembers it all, and that knowledge means his doom for all eternity. But if he escapes her world, she will perish as will all others behind the looking glass. He is the key that keeps her alive, and she is the key that gives him hope. Can they break the curse that keeps them separated by torture and death? Can they escape together from a world that exists beyond every mirror?

5 Star Reviews

"I have never read anything quite like it and I loved it. Brilliant and well written. Superb!! And the writing style of the author was amazing." Rabia Tanveer, Readers’ Favorite
"Fans of Lord of the Rings, Anne Rice, and all fantasy novels will really enjoy this book! Truly one of the best books I've ever read!" Bonnie, Amazon Customer
“Christine Church gives readers a lovable protagonist. A wonderful love story. Like a dangerous but beautiful animal, this romance novel comes with some nail-biting moments that are definitely worth reading. I recommend this book to vampire fans."  ~Benjamin Ookami
"I actually fell asleep with the book in my arms and woke up to read it in the morning." Amazon Customer
"Great fantasy and very exciting, a real page turner." Amazon Customer


Love's GraspDecember 20, 2014He remained perfectly still as the chains were wrapped around his body.  The metal cooled the heated flesh of his bare chest.  All around him echoed a cacophony of screams, bellows and stomping of feet that almost crushed him beneath its weight.  The air tightened with the chains and a rush of collective exhilaration and nervousness swirled through his senses.  He glanced quickly at the red-faced, muscular man standing beside him, who finished fastening the chains and stepped away.He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. And then he waited, anxiety pounding in his breast. The air was thick with heat and sweat and smoke, but he'd grown accustomed to it through the years, as with the rest of the ritual. The one thing he could never get used to, however, was the flip-flop in the pit of his stomach that occurred as the platform he stood on slowly lifted into the air, revealing him to the anxiously awaiting crowd that crushed nearer. Starving animals before a feast.  He looked straight out, refused to look down, lest the vertigo take him. How he hated heights.He listened for the eerie orchestration of strings and organ that marked the beginning of his leisurely descent back to earth. The notes began with a rhythmic resonance that was almost conquered by impatient bellows that quickly turned to a roar of frenzied excitement.  As the platform lowered, a muzzy sensation circled Dane’s mind and his throat felt as though his stomach had been hoisted up into it.  He held his breath in anticipation.An amplified voice echoed over the din. “Ladies and Gentlemen.  Through the misty storm they come. Battles rage and blood is spilled and tonight you will feel…the rage of the... Dark Myst!”
            The crescendo of notes rose with the screams and soon the vast crowd, shrouded in the mist of machine smoke and lighting from the trusses above, came into view.  The platform touched the stage simultaneously with a deafening blast of canon fire, blinding light and searing heat from the pyrotechnics.Dane thrust his arms outward in an ostentatious display of feigned strength and released his long held breath as the chains fell free of his body.  As he leaped forward the crowd crushed against the stage, nearly 20,000 screaming fans all at once a serried mass swarming towards him.Tingles of excitement clawed at his spine, a feeling that never waned with the years.  He ran to the front of the stage and grabbed up the microphone as Bruce struck the first hard note on his Strat.  The music pounded out its heavy rhythm and the audience's cries warred with its volume. Sharp beams of laser light cut a zigzag through the haze. Dane twirled around and his heart jumped.Oh what fresh hell!He was staring at himself!The stage had been set up like a room in a lover's palace; giant mirrors everywhere—behind, to the sides, even above, stretching as high as the trusses.  Due to a severe snow squall the truck carrying an important part of the band’s stage set had gone off the road and gotten stuck. No one was injured, but the set had not arrived in time to be set up in the sold-out Target Center.  Someone had decided the light show would look better reflected. Dane, however, was aghast. Not only was their stage set designed to coincide with most of their songs, but the effects of the colored lights continuously bouncing from mirror to mirror would inevitably result in the whole band plagued with a throbbing headache by concert’s end.Their manager had to have approved this—someone had to have approved it. No one had told Dane! The mirrors must have been erected last moment. Everyone associated with the band knew how Dane hated mirrors. But now, no matter which direction he turned, he saw himself in his black costume and ragged-edged cloak; which portrayed him as the yin to the band's yang.  They were the mist, and he the dark storm.To keep his attention from the mirrors, Dane fixed his gaze on the audience and the speckled glow from thousands of cell phone flashes, resembling a sparkling star-filled evening that stretched out before him. But he knew he would eventually have to turn around.
            By the third song it became maddening, not able to dance around as he normally would for fear of what might be hidden in those mirrors. But, thankfully, half way through the song he spotted one of the girls he'd met the last time he was in town.  At last, something to keep his mind and eyes busy.  In the front row she stood, arms raised toward him.  The bulldozing horde had her pressed against the stage, long auburn hair flittering about as she bobbed her head to the beat of the music.  He smiled in her direction, despite his sudden dread at remembering the promise he'd made to her the year before.  A promise—ashamedly—he had no intention of keeping.He had never seen her before that night a year ago, so she hadn’t been a regular.  Conquering new territory was always fun. She’d displayed the looks normally reserved by the group of girls who always seem to know just how to be chosen above others and handed backstage passes.  This one, however, had taken a different approach. She had approached him on the floor of his hotel as he made his way to his room. Fortunately he had been alone—a rarity. He had invited her in.  Ample breasts and a nice round bottom offset by a perfectly slender waist. Dane knew he would be having a good time that night.She had wanted too much, however, a commitment he couldn't give. Teasing him and denying him her favors until he'd made the vow. What else was there to do? And so he had said exactly what she wanted to hear. And, as naïve as she was, she had believed him. He couldn’t, after all, say no. Not when she lay there in his hotel bed displaying all her luscious charms. But he couldn't keep his promise, either.  There were plenty of women in countless towns, women the band’s crew knew were his type. Women who would be offered passes just so he could meet them, drink with them, bed them. And there would be more waiting in the next town after that.Now, a pass with the name of a local radio as sponsor dangled around her neck. So, she had won backstage passes this time. There would be no avoiding her tonight. What would he say to her? He could not even recall her name. As her fiery glare burned through him, he absentmindedly turned away, catching Bruce’s smug grin as he looked from the girl to Dane.  He mouthed the words “there she is,” as he switched guitars with an assistant for the next set of songs.Dane smirked, shook his head at his friend, then strutted to the other side of the stage as the next song began—one of the band’s trademark tunes that he wrote about a medieval land of lords and knights.  He wielded a sword, one of many from his collection, and proceeded to dance around in choreographed mock swordplay as the hired orchestra played their bit.  At this point, his disappointment surged that the integral element of their regular stage set had not arrived.  The video wall depiction of a castle and rolling green hills was installed. However, mirrors now replaced the large faux-stone steps that were to lead to the balcony above the stage, giving Dane the appearance of riding atop one of two red-eyed dragons that should, at that moment, be gazing menacingly down at the crowd, smoke, laser and fire effects erupting from the eyes and fanged mouths. Those that came for the show would be fervently disappointed.During Bruce’s brief guitar solo near mid-song, Dane closed his eyes for a moment and raised the sword high, drawing in the deep odor of sweat and heat. Machine-created fog crept along the stage and curled around his feet like a chill mist in a graveyard.  The lights were so dim he could scarce see even the front row of the audience as the laser lights sliced through the stadium and across his body like sharp-edged blades.In accordance with his routine, and without second thought, he twirled around—and was suddenly staring right into one of the tall mirrors that littered the stage.  The lights brightened.  His craggy-hemmed cloak billowed as he spun from the ghastly reflection of his own sweat-soaked face only to catch the same image in the mirror beside that one. His gut wrenched and he tried to turn away, back to the front of the stage, back to the audience. But he froze as movement caught his eye and when he turned his head, she was there—the “Mirror Lady.” His illusion. His own delusion.Onstage.
            As real to him as his own reflection.
            No! Not here! Her thigh-length ginger hair was loose, rather than pulled back in the usual braid. The shining tresses poured over her shoulders like a rushing waterfall and cascaded down a beautiful gown of burgundy velvet that hugged her slim form. The tears in her golden eyes told a tale of sadness that wrenched at his heart, and he felt himself take an involuntary step forward. More familiar to him than Martha or Lance or Sir Kori, the sight of the “Mirror Lady” twisted his gut, a tornado rampaging through him, a tangled enrapture of perplexity and fear, love and pain—as if he had known her for more years than his life was long. And that familiarity drove him somewhere beyond her presence in some glass. 
            His dilemma with the redhead in the front row disappeared.  The girls he’d met in the past or would meet in the future no longer mattered. It was this stranger, this illusion. She alone meant everything—and she scared the hell out of him.  But deeper than fear lie an unbearable urge to leap into the mirror and gather her into his arms.  Protective impulses tugged at him relentlessly and he was suddenly frightened not of her but for her. Terror seized his heart, and refused to let go, pounding through him harder than the music that continued to fill the stadium, confusing him profoundly.  Passionate emotions thrashed at his brain and his head ached with the need to bring them to the surface.  But he couldn’t.  A mental barrier walled off the needs screaming for release.  Why couldn’t he just go to her; feel for her the love he’d been missing his entire life?
            Behind him, the glass’ surface reflected a flurry of activity; lambent light bounced from one mirror to the next, heightening the pain in his head.  The small section of audience visible moved and swayed, their images like dancing ghosts in the dark mist of the stadium.  Stephan’s long strawberry hair swayed as he bobbed his head up and down while he plucked away at his bass. He hadn’t seen her.  At the time Dane didn’t think anyone else saw her, but her form was as solid in the mirror as was his own, as she had been in every mirror throughout his life.  Concentration became impossible. He faltered, his voice cracked and he missed the chorus altogether. Familiar with the music, the mistake must have been quite obvious to the crowd. But he couldn't turn from that damn mirror.Dane tried to force his mind back to the song when a searing bolt of pain sliced through his head. The clank of the sword and the microphone sounded loud to his ears, even above the music, as they dropped from his hands and crashed to the stage. Feedback screeched from the monitors and the music stopped. The burden of emotion and conflict pressed him downward and, like Alice, he found himself falling. Down. Down. The spotlights swirled like shooting stars and agony screamed through his shoulder as he hit the hard stage floor.  The fog consumed him.
The stadium went dead silent. Bruce and Stephan rushed towards him. Adrian leapt from behind his drums. Road crew members and strangers circled above. The audience pressed closer to the stage, security guards frantically tried to hold them back.  Their lips moved, their hands pounded the stage. He saw them all, yet he heard nothing. And then he was forced into a vacuum of darkness.
About the Author:
Christine Church has been writing since she was 9 years old. As a kid, she wrote and drew her own picture books, then moved on to short stories as a teen. By her 20's, she was writing full-length novels, but her first success in publication was a nonfiction book about the care of indoor cats, Housecat, published by Howell Book House in 1998. Several more nonfiction books followed, including the major award winning book, Indoor Cats (TFH publications),  which won the Iams Responsible Cat Ownership in 2001. After a broken hand, she took a hiatus from writing for quite some time, then returned to find everything had changed and her world turned upside down. She decided then to take a stab at self publishing. Her first novella, Sands of Time, Fate of the True Vampires won Finalist status in the 2016 Next Generation Indie Book Awards. Her second book, as well as Beyond Every Mirror, have won five-star status on Reader's favorite.
Website: www.christinechurch.net
Facebook Book Page: https://www.facebook.com/beyondeverymirror/
Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/ChristineChurchAuthor/
Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/christinechurch   @christinechurch
Google +: https://plus.google.com/105531903513949340169
YouTube Channel: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCw1XAIeckc4wNgHdu9zN4bQ
Reader’s Favorite: https://readersfavorite.com/book-review/beyond-every-mirror

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Bewitching Holiday Extravaganza Changing Scenes by Jennifer Allis Provost

Changing ScenesChangesBook TwoJennifer Allis Provost
Genre: Contemporary Romance, New Adult
Publisher: Limitless Publishing
Date of Publication: January 6, 2016
ISBN: 978-1680584431ASIN: B019SHY37Q
Number of pages: 247Word Count: 62000
Cover Artist: Wicked by Design
Book Description:
For Astrid Janvier, image is everything…
Astrid is a world-renowned model, as famous for her strut as her startling green eyes. She’s modeled for the biggest names in the fashion world, and is regularly invited to parties in New York, London, and Paris. Thanks to a designer label addiction, she’s also broke, and takes a job as a cocktail waitress just to make rent. When her best friend Britt asks her to be her maid of honor at her upcoming wedding, their first task is to decide the menu.
Donnie Coehlo is a young, up-and-coming chef with a dinner menu to plan… 
Donato—Donnie for short—is the head chef at Thirty-Nine and Twelve, a seafood bistro on the Connecticut shore. It’s a great accomplishment given his youthful age, but Donnie doesn’t brag. He just wants to find the right girl, settle down, and have a bunch of kids. When Astrid arrives at his restaurant, Donnie hopes she is the one. But would a high-priced model like Astrid be interested in a regular guy like him?
As Astrid’s life crumbles around her, and Donnie makes a terrible choice, Astrid learns the two of them are irrevocably tied together.
Will their connection be enough for Astrid to leave her high-fashion life behind, and accept what Donnie has to offer?
Or will she chase her dreams as a model, leaving Donnie as part of her past?
Amazon




What better time than the holiday season to be with the ones you love? In Changing Scenes, circumstances force Astrid and Donnie to spend their first Christmas apart. This is a much bigger deal for Donnie than it is for Astrid; while she sees holidays as something to endure, he enjoys going back to his grandmother’s house and spending a day or two cooking up a feast for his family.
In order to show Astrid just how much he is going to miss her, Donnie plans a special breakfast for Astrid—but this breakfast doesn’t involve bacon and eggs. Instead of traditional breakfast foods, he makes a few different chocolate pastries for Astrid, and she gets to choose between the sinful desserts. Does that make Donnie the dessert to the dessert? I guess it does.
In the spirit of Donnie’s romantic breakfast of desserts, here’s a recipe for one of the most sinful chocolate cakes you’ll ever encounter. Below that breakfast scene itself.
Happy reading—and baking!


Ingredients
butter and flour for coating and dusting the cake pan
3 cups all-purpose flour
3 cups granulated sugar
1½ cups unsweetened cocoa powder
1 tablespoon baking soda
1½ teaspoons baking powder
1½ teaspoons salt
4 large eggs
1½ cups buttermilk
1½ cups warm water
½ cup vegetable oil
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
Instructions

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Butter three 9-inch cake rounds. Dust with flour and tap out the excess. (see cooking lesson below)
Mix together flour, sugar, cocoa, baking soda, baking powder, and salt in a stand mixer using a low speed until combined.
Add eggs, buttermilk, warm water, oil, and vanilla. Beat on a medium speed until smooth. This should take just a couple of minutes.
Divide batter among the three pans. I found that it took just over 3 cups of the batter to divide it evenly.
Bake for 30-35 minutes until the cake meets the toothpick test (stick a toothpick in and it comes out clean).
Cool on wire racks for 15 minutes and then turn out the cakes onto the racks and allow to cool completely.
Frost with your favorite frosting and enjoy!
Excerpt from Changing Scenes: Donnie makes Astrid a special breakfast
After the session wrapped, I went home, showered, and took a nice, long nap. When I woke I ate a bowl of cereal, then I got dressed in my warmest socks, leggings, and sweater while I waited for Donnie to pick me up. My man was right on time and came bearing hot coffee, and we did our usual circuit of the market.“These fish get heavier every week,” I said when we were loading up. “And I think Trevor put rocks in those sacks instead of clams.”“I hope they’re not clams,” Donnie said. “I paid for mussels.”I shook my head, unsuccessfully stifling my latest round of laughter; my chef thought he was a comedian. “I’m ready to head out if you are.”“You know it, babe.”We hopped into the fishmobile and left the market. I watched the market get smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror, wondering how big of a catastrophe would be needed for Donnie to cancel Christmas and hang out with me instead. The restaurant burning down? No, since he’s not an owner he’d probably go back to his family and wait for word from his boss. Massive snowstorm? No again, since he’s a New Englander; they laugh at snow. Me breaking a leg? Hmm, now that could work. Donnie would have to stay in my apartment with me, taking care of me, keeping me company… Of course, I would have that broken leg to deal with…“Babe?”“What?” I asked, blinking myself back to reality.“You’re a dreamer, you know that?”I looked down. “I was just thinking.”“Hey.” I glanced up, saw his smile. “Dreams are good.” I returned his smile, then I realized we were headed toward my apartment instead of the diner. “We’re not going to breakfast?”“I thought we’d do something special.”“What special thing?” I pressed.“I’ll make breakfast at your place.”I flopped back in my seat, totally speechless. Just when I thought Donnie couldn’t be any more perfect, he goes and one-ups himself. Then I remembered that all this cooking would be taking place in my kitchen, and my happiness turned to horror.“I don’t have a lot of food at home,” I babbled. “I haven’t had time to shop, and I don’t own things like spatulas and cooking spray.”“I brought everything we’ll need.”“You did?”“’Course I did. When I was in your place before I checked out your kitchen.” He gave me a look, and added, “The stove didn’t look like it’d been used this year.”“I’m not a cooker like you.”“Babe, there was dust on the burners.”I crossed my arms and fidgeted in my seat. “What can I say, housekeeping hadn’t come by.”“It sure hadn’t.”We reached my building, and I directed Donnie toward my parking space. Once that was complete he handed me a cooler, then he grabbed a second bag and we headed toward the elevator.“Will the fish be all right?” I asked.“They’ll be fine for a few hours,” he said. “It’s cold, even in here, and they’re packed in tons of ice.”When we entered my apartment Donnie went straight to the kitchen. “What do you want me to do?” I asked.“What do you usually do after I drop you off?”“Change and go to bed.”“Go change, then.”I blinked. “I thought if I didn’t help, I didn’t get to eat.”He kissed the corner of my mouth. “Grandma’s rules, not mine. Don’t worry, I got this.”I did as ordered, and shed my fish market gear. Since I wasn’t going to see Donnie for a while I decided to dress sexy, and put on a blue satin spaghetti strapped nightie and matching robe. The smell of coffee lured me back to the kitchen, and I saw little pastries set up on the counter.“What’s all this?” I asked. “No bacon and eggs?”“Sweets for a sweet lady,” he replied. The coffeemaker beeped, so Donnie poured a cupful and handed it to me. “Gonna try one?”“Sure.” I selected a tiny chocolate confection, then I took it and my coffee to the couch. Donnie sat beside me a moment later. “What brought this on?”“I’m going to miss you, that’s what,” he said. “Not gonna lie, I was single for a long time before we met. Been a long time since I found anyone I wanted to spend time with…” Donnie shook his head. “And now, I won’t even be with you over the holidays.”“It’s not like you’ll be gone forever,” I said, ignoring the pang in my heart. “If it’s any consolation, I’ll be miserable with my family.”Donnie made a face. “I’d be miserable too, if they dragged me to some restaurant on Christmas.”“Yeah, restaurants are terrible,” I said. “And the chefs, especially the head chefs, now they are the worst.”“Hey, take that back.”“Nope.”Donnie grabbed my coffee and pastry from my hands and set them on the table, then he grabbed my waist. “Take it back,” he insisted, his hand sliding up my spine toward my neck.“Make me.”


About the Author:
Jennifer Allis Provost writes books about faeries, orcs and elves. Zombies too. She grew up in the wilds of Western Massachusetts and had read every book in the local library by age twelve. (It was a small library). An early love of mythology and folklore led to her epic fantasy series, The Chronicles of Parthalan, and her day job as a cubicle monkey helped shape her urban fantasy, Copper Girl. When she’s not writing about things that go bump in the night (and sometimes during the day) she’s working on her MFA in Creative Nonfiction.
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/jennallis  
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/copperraven
Twitter: @parthalan
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2975887.Jennifer_Allis_Provost
Website: http://authorjenniferallisprovost.com/
Blog: http://jenniferallisprovost.blogspot.com/

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Bewitching Holiday Extravagana - Blood Ice and Oak Moon by Marsha A. Moore

Tea Leaf Tales: Which Yule Tree Will Pick Me?Fantasy Flash Fiction by Marsha A. Moore



I suck in a gulp of thick, pine-scented air, faced with the difficult question—which one. I tick through the usual criteria—fullness, tightly attached needles, correct height. Beyond that the trouble begins for me when I consider needle length, color, tightness of branches. 
Needles crunch under the soles of my shoes as I slowly pass down the row, hoping one tree chooses me. Those I don’t give a full inspection slyly begin to stretch their postures more erect before I turn completely away. If I pause to admire one, branches brush past the backs of my legs until I turn around and give that tree a careful look.
Ahead in the center of the display, I hear voices in foreign languages—hurried bits of anxious dialog that quiet as I grow near. 
One small blue spruce tries his best to stretch taller but cannot reach up to his neighbors, so I lean in and whisper, “If you talk to me, I’ll take you home.” 
I wait, determined, and the nearby treetops bend over the tiny spruce until finally a gentle tinkling begins deep inside at its trunk, radiating to the tips of the boughs at my side. I caress the singing branch, then wave an arm to the shop owner.

Tea Leaf Tales is a series of original ten-sentence short stories by Marsha A. Moore, relating to photos/scenes that resonate with her. Read more Tea Leaf Tales archived in Marsha’s Mercantile of Tea Leaf Tales.






Blood Ice and Oak MoonCoon Hollow Coven Tales Book ThreeMarsha A Moore
Print Length: 211 pages
Publication Date: October 3, 2016
ASIN: B01LWS4V2G
Genre: PNR
Book Description:
Esme Underhill is about to discover a darkness hidden inside her that could destroy her chance for independence and possibly kill her.
Esme’s mother took her young daughter away from Southern Indiana’s Coon Hollow Coven to prevent her from learning about the unusual witchcraft she had inherited. When Esme is twenty-seven, her beloved Grammy Flora passes away and leaves her property in the Hollow to her granddaughter. With this opportunity to remake her life and gain independence, Esme attempts to emulate Grammy Flora as a wildwood mystic who relies on the hedge world of faeries to locate healing herbs. But fae are shrewd traders. When they open their world to her, she must meet the unknown malevolence of her birthright.
Thayne, the handsome king of the fae Winter Court, faces his own struggle to establish autonomy as a new regent. He is swept into the tempest of Esme’s unfolding powers, a dangerous threat to his court. His sworn duty is to protect his people, despite Esme’s beauty and allure, which tear at his resolve.
Both Esme’s and Thayne’s dreams of personal freedom are lost…unless they can trust each other and overcome surmounting dangers.
Amazon
Excerpt from Chapter One: Winter Began
Dear Miss Rebecca Esmeralda Underhill,
Please accept our deepest sympathies concerning the loss of your grandmother, Flora Esmeralda Freestone. She was much loved and well-respected in our community.
As per her documented wishes, the ownership of her property on 10510 East Lost Branch Run passes to you. This transfer has been filed in our office. At the request of High Priest Logan Dennehy, all council members have voted to reinstate you as a member of Coon Hollow Coven after your absence of twenty years.
However, despite Coon Hollow Coven being your birthplace, a majority indicated the lapsed time was sufficient cause to withhold transfer of Ms. Freestone’s ceremonial standing to you, which customarily would accompany a property transference to blood kin of adult age. For explanation of how you may attain ceremonial approval in your name, please visit the council office at 50013 Owls Tail Creek Road.
Enclosed, please find pamphlets describing the expected dress and personal property code of our coven, which adheres to the time period in which the coven was founded in 1935. This is to best protect our witchcraft traditions.
Sincerely,
Nathan WellsCoon Hollow Coven Council, secretary


Esme’s gaze fixed on the words that acknowledged her as the property owner. She’d never lived alone. First her mom, then a roommate and finally Doug. Esme’s shoulders straightened and chest lifted with strength and independence at the thought of owning her own place. But, why wasn’t she approved for ceremonial status? Her hands gripped the edge of the table, knuckles whitening, and her heart raced. It’s not fair. I won’t be accepted as a healer. Only children not yet graduated from the coven’s secondary school were kept from participating fully in ceremonies. Esme loved learning the ways of a hedge witch and helped Gram every summer from grade school through college. Fascinated with tending Gram’s plants, Esme even studied botany in college.The research company she worked for had already accepted her request to work offsite and study mystic plants…at the stipulation she be reduced to part-time. She needed work here as a healer to supplement her income. She’d assumed incorrectly that her experience with Gram and college studies would’ve qualified her as an accepted healer. Her standing in the coven would be important to patrons, all except Gram’s closest friends who knew Esme well. An attempt at independence seemed bound to fail before she started.Her gaze drifted to the name used in the letter’s greeting. She hadn’t seen her full name in print for decades. It didn’t even appear on her birth certificate, which labeled her as Rebecca E. Underhill, one of the many things her mother insisted upon. Mother wanted nothing to do with the coven or witchcraft and said, “Esmeralda sounds too much like a witch. No need to encourage the darkness out.” Grudgingly, she accepted her own mother’s middle name for her child to uphold custom. Esme never understood Mother’s view since Gram was well-respected for her kind and gentle strength by all who knew her.To Esme’s Indianapolis friends, she was Becky. Only her mother addressed her as Rebecca. But inside, she was Esme. Gram had always called her that, or Esmeray in carefree moments. Her middle name suited the mystic inside Esme, something Gram must have known. If only Esme could use Gram’s last name Freestone. Underhill felt like a lead weight.Esme set the letter aside and paced the length of the rag runner through the small kitchen. Frustration wound her along a circular track through the sitting room, to her closet-sized guest room, and back. The space was too small to work answers out of her tangled mind. On the second pass, she sank onto the goose down comforter of Gram’s iron bed. Billowing fluff sheltered her from the problems. Gram’s linens, scented with homegrown lavender and rose sleep liniment, comforted Esme and tugged on her eyelids.She forced her eyes open and pushed herself up and off the bed. Hiding wasn’t the way to begin this fresh start in life. She’d done enough kowtowing to stronger wills, letting Doug and her mother run over her. At the back door, she paused long enough to grab a rain parka and pulled it on as she strode outside.Gram’s cat, Dove, zipped alongside with a sharp meow, slipping out before the door closed. Esme smiled, grateful the tomcat kept Gram company during her illness. She’ doted on the smoky blue stray that happened into her garden one early fall afternoon and never left. Gram swore he was an omen and chose his name ‘cause of his white-winged breast patch. She used to say, “One day soon my spirit will fly on those outspread wings, and together Dove and me we’ll roam the wooded hills.” Gram loved those hills. Thinking about the hills drew Esme to gather Dove and head outside.Ice still peppered down, adding more layers to the spiky crystalline grass blades. A breeze blew at Esme’s back. She allowed the wind to guide her toward the woods behind the cabin. At the trailhead, ice coating the bittersweet vine berries glistened the same shade of blue she’d rubbed from Dove’s coat. Alert to the strange color, she followed a line of branches dangling sky blue icicles, each one more fanciful and richer in hue than the last. A beautiful play of light, ranging from cerulean to ultramarine. Even worth the chill at her ankles, which were bare in her cropped jeans.Whenever Esme paused to marvel at the colored icicles, Dove pawed them and then dodged when they dropped.Minutes later and deeper in the forest, the ice pelted heavier, and Esme reached for the hood of her raincoat. Strands of hair fell forward, woven with frozen ultramarine threads. The same purplish tint coated twigs along the path. Light from the sky reached this far into the woods since all but the oak trees had lost their leaves. The unusual color couldn’t be caused by light refraction. She’d never seen any rain, sleet, or snow like this, not even in the Hollow. Grammy had taught her a little about omens. Was this a sign?Esme scurried along the trail, sliding at times and spotting richer and deeper shades of purple and red-violets. At the far side of the woodlot, iris-hued spider webs clung to berry brambles. She gasped at the beauty. Tempted to touch, she extended a hand but at the last instant resisted.A deep groan echoed from the adjoining property ahead.
She snatched her hand back and scanned for some god of nature angry at her ruinous attempt. Grappling for Dove, Esme crouched behind a thicket.The cat gave a single hiss, then clung to her leg.In the distance, a big middle-aged man, both tall and wide, staggered behind a shed, dragging a long, clumsy load wrapped and tied into a blanket. His balding head snapped in her direction, eyes wide and face blanched gray-white. “Who’s there?” His booming voice sliced the delicate webs from their branches. Crimson freezing rain assaulted both trail and yard.Esme froze, afraid to move and attract his attention. Her heart, drumming against her ribs, threatened to give her away. She wanted to run home. But if the colored ice omen was meant for her, she needed to stay and learn its meaning. Could the man see the omen?Thankfully, her cover must’ve fooled Baldy. He resumed lugging the limp bundle, and didn’t seem affected by the magical ice.From between the tangle of branches, Esme studied him.His wet, black shirt clung to his round belly. Blood-red ice coated his load, tracing the outline of a human body. Smaller than his, probably a female. Was she dead? Of natural causes? Or had he murdered her? The thought wrapped around Esme’s breath and trapped it deep in her lungs. Her legs twitched. Gaze riveted on Baldy, she positioned to bolt from potential danger.He rolled the body into a depression Esme couldn’t see.She leaned to one side, bracing herself with a hand on the ground.Over what looked like a freshly dug grave, Baldy grunted as he shoveled and kicked dirt and large rocks. Clumps of red clung to long strands of his comb-over, now hanging along one ear. Was it ice or real blood?Dove huddled closer, and Gram’s voice from years ago spoke in Esme’s mind. “Blood ice is stained with revenge.”Crimson liquid dripped from the man’s eyes and fell from grimacing jowls. The face of a demon

 © Copyright 2016 Marsha A. Moore. All rights reserved.
About the Author:
Marsha A. Moore loves to write fantasy and paranormal romance. Much of her life feeds the creative flow she uses to weave highly imaginative tales. 
The magic of art and nature spark life into her writing, as well as other pursuits of watercolor painting and drawing. She’s been a yoga enthusiast for over a decade and is a registered yoga teacher. Her practice helps weave the mystical into her writing. After a move from Toledo to Tampa in 2008, she’s happily transformed into a Floridian, in love with the outdoors where she’s always on the lookout for portals to other worlds. Marsha is crazy about cycling. She lives with her husband on a large saltwater lagoon, where taking her kayak out is a real treat. She never has enough days spent at the beach, usually scribbling away at stories with toes wiggling in the sand. Every day at the beach is magical! 
Mailing list: http://bit.ly/MarshaAMooreList
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Cover Reveal Inclement Gods by Gabriele Russo

Inclement GodsGods Inc SeriesBook Two Gabriele Russo
Fiery Seas PublishingJune 2017
Book Description:
When you live in a world pullulating with gods, can you truly be an atheist? Well, yes…if you know a way to get rid them. 
Mysantheos, a fanatic atheist at the head of a powerful lobby/terrorist organization, has created a weapon able to kill gods. All he needs is a disruptive figurehead to attract the masses. Goblin, who has just tried to supplant Queen Louhi as CEO of Gods Incorporated, has been deemed the right kind of unworthy. Mysantheos breaks him out of the Queen’s prison and the godslaughter begins.
As the divine bodies pile up, panicked gods blame the CEO Queen for Goblin’s escape. Resentment builds in the company and violent factions start pushing for the extermination of the human race. Will Queen Louhi’s Nerd Squad, a group of angry gods, and Richard (a down-on-his-luck private eye),  manage to find Mysantheos in time to prevent what promises to be the bloodiest conflict between men and god ever?

About the Author:
Gabriele Russo, AKA Lucie-Gabrielle Jolicoeur-Rousseau, was born in Quebec City amidst a family of book lovers – her father had dreamed of being a writer and both of her brothers are published authors. 
Since she earned her Bachelor’s in History, it was no surprise (except to her) that she ended up working in restaurants, eventually owning two, which almost drove her mad. She sold them and was nursed back to pseudo-sanity by Douglas Adams and Terry Pratchett. 
That’s when she answered the family calling and decided to write. Armed with her ideas for the Gods Inc. series she went back to the University and got her Master’s in Creative Writing.
She now lives with her husband in Culpeper, Virginia, where she divides her time between painting, ripping apart and reconstructing her recently bought historical home, playing tennis and, of course, writing more books.
https://www.facebook.com/GabrieleRussoLGJR
https://twitter.com/lugabirusso

http://jolicoeurrousseau.blogspot.com/

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Waiting for a Girl Like You by Gina Conkle

Waiting for a Girl Like YouKissables Book 1Gina Conkle
Genre: Hot Contemporary Romance
Date of Publication: Dec. 13, 2017
ISBN:  978-0998305615ASIN:  B01N3LCLJB
Number of pages: 225Word Count: 56,000
Cover Artist: Rebecca of Dreams2Media
Book Description:
2 Stories in 1 Book
Proper Care and Feeding of a Broken Heart
Bookstore clerk Abbie is off-the-charts nervous her first night moonlighting in a sex-for-hire job. If she only kept her mouth shut…but nothing goes as expected, including the intense blue-eyed surfer who walks through her door. Mark wants to work out a few kinks —and leave the lifestyle for good. Past mistakes still haunt him, but sweet Abbie turns Mark’s plans upside down, and two broken hearts discover honesty is the hottest aphrodisiac.
Anything But Safe
Former trophy wife Jennifer wants to thrive again, but when her new life hits a speedbump, her unlikely hero is rough working man AJ. The woman AJ rescued is out of his league, but the two together are magic. Jennifer smooths his hard edges, and when she’s with AJ, her true, quirky colors show. A surprise threatens to derail the two who quickly learn…love is anything but safe.

Excerpts:  Waiting for a Girl Like You (2 stories in 1 book)
The Proper Care and Feeding of a Broken Heart (story 1)
My cheeks burned but I stood taller. “I don’t know what Mrs. Smith told you but when she said ‘fresh face’ that was code for I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never done this before. Any of it. Not sex for hire. And certainly not BDSM. Much as I want to bolt, I need the money. So can we get this over with?”            Another dry chuckle. “You know how to get a man going.”            I glared at him through my bangs and hugged myself tighter. Music pulsed from the room next door, but I couldn’t say what the song was. Did they need a sound track to get going? The frazzled side of me surrendered to how little I knew about sex. Despite standing bravely, I was small and adrift on an unknown sea. Surfer Man stepped within touching distance, his blue eyes on the verge of grey, lit with a strange mixture of hard shell and tender patience. A faint line traced the left side of his mouth like contempt came easy.             “First rule,” he said evenly. “You only talk when spoken to.”            “Then what am I supposed to call you?”             The question startled us both. I was throwing out the no names rule and for good reason. Something dawned on me. With the closed door, it was just the two of us. This square room was my island. Control could go either way. Surfer Man’s mouth opened, but an adrenaline rush took over and my hip cocked sideways. In the world of fight or flight, my body tensed with its version of fight. “Oh, let me guess. You’re going to say Call me master or some crap like that. I work at a bookstore. I’ve read those please spank me Mr. Billionaire books.”I liked a few of them. Reading the books was one thing. Living them was another.            One side of his mouth curved up. “Maybe you should tell me how you really feel.”            I exhaled slowly, blowing bangs off my forehead. No sense in telling him what I really thought. Talk about a mood killer. No man wanted to hear me say this place is for losers who can’t find a girl. Yet, this guy was no loser.             “Real billionaires don’t look like you do in those jeans of yours.”            He chuckled, his blue eyes flaring wider. “I’m no billionaire.”            Oh, but you are one hot man. Thankfully my filter worked and I kept that to myself. “You know what it is? It’s the whole BDSM scene thing. Sex isn’t a scene. It’s sex. Two people being honest skin to skin.”             Sinews under his forearms flexed while music cranked louder in the next room. His hard shell scrutiny narrowed, and I cringed. Sneering at my customer’s preferences wasn’t a smart idea. How he got his rocks off was his business.            “Honest sex.” He let the words settle in his mouth. Surfer Man shook his head and made for his gym bag.            “What? Are you leaving?” My voice notched higher. I didn’t want him tying me up, but I didn’t want him to leave.             “This wasn’t a good idea.”             Scowling at me, he stood under the bulb, the red light pouring over him. How was it a nice looking man in his thirties paid a hefty price to tie a woman up yet he was the one getting all contorted about it? I was pretty sure he could get the average beach bunny to shed her bikini and play sex games for a night. Unless his tastes ran too dark.            I eyed the bag at his feet. Dust lined a few creases. “Maybe we could talk instead.”            He laughed harshly. “You’re naked. I paid for sex with a pretty woman. Not conversation.”            “Want me to cover myself with the sheet?”            “No,” he said, his face screwing up like I wasn’t playing with a full deck. “I don’t want you to cover yourself.”            Feet planted wide, the bulge in his jeans was gone. The lost reaction bugged me. He didn’t find me attractive anymore? To add to the strangeness, my reversal irked me. I should be glad. I could run down the hall, grab my clothes and purse, and run out the door and never come back. Red-tinged light cast shadows over his features. He set both hands on his hips, his raw voice reaching out to me. “Why do you want me to stay?”
Anything But Safe (story 2)
Tendons stood out on AJ’s neck. If she read him right, he was flummoxed by their sizzling chemistry. What made this different was liking each other so quickly. It was powerful. Overwhelming and mind-consuming. Conversation flowed naturally. She’d dumped her troubles at his feet last night without a second thought. AJ listened. And when things weren’t hot and heavy, he was fun. She needed fun.            His long legs stretched out under her old table last night did things to her. Her nerves shot to life when predatory blue eyes tracked her movement in the kitchen. AJ was different. Comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time. And his thoughtfulness with the herbs? She wanted to kiss every inch of skin on his body.             “No need to glower at me,” she said. “You brought up how different we are last night right after I got into your truck.”            His mouth’s hard line softened. “That’s what’s bugging you?”            “It didn’t bother me. Not at first. Then, after Richard’s call, I wondered if I was making another bad decision.” Her voice faded. “You were a great listener, but it crossed my mind that you were after one thing and one thing only.”            AJ’s crystalline blue eyes pierced her. “Sex.”            The nicest shiver ran down her legs. “Yes.”            Hot sun beat down on the rest of the world. It was August. Standing under the pepper tree, AJ was a tall, cool drink of water. Stained coveralls didn’t put her off nor did his tattoo and the rough cadence of his speech. Under the gruff exterior was a real man with a good heart. He visually devoured her every time they’d crossed paths around town, and last night was no exception. But, could she be content with a sex only fling?             “Well, that’s a relief.” Faint sarcasm edged his last word.            “What is?”            His steady gaze never wavered. “I thought you might be going in a different direction.”She cocked her head. “Did you think I was about to give you the ‘let’s be friends’ talk?”            “I thought you were about to give me the ‘let’s hook up for sex only’ talk.”            “Oh AJ,” she said around hiccups of laughter. Her cheeks burned. She shook her head, a little dazed. “I…I don’t know  what to say to that.”             “It’s not the first time a woman like you propositioned me.”            Eyes rounding, she laughed at the absurdity. “I’m not propositioning you.”            “Good because my answer would be no.”She’d come for lunch and conversation of the talking variety. A kiss or two was more than welcome, but they needed to slow down, let things simmer. AJ’s forbidding frown told her some of Hidden Valley’s well-shod women had dallied with him, and he was having no more of it. The town was an eclectic mix of gated communities, small farm-to-table co-ops and wineries. A lot of working class people had lived here long before it was hip.
            Hurt bloomed in her chest at the idea of any woman taking advantage of AJ’s goodness. Or his body. His past was likely more colorful than hers, but his flat out refusal to hook up intrigued her. He’d messed around in the past. What made him change his mind?

About the Author:
Gina Conkle writes Viking, Georgian, and contemporary romance. She grew up in southern California and despite all that sunshine, she love books over beaches and stone castles over sand castles. Now Gina lives in Michigan with her favorite alpha male, Brian, and their two sons where she occasionally gardens and cooks. Living in snow gives her the perfect excuse to get lost in reading and writing.
http://ginaconkle.com/
https://twitter.com/ginaconkle
https://www.facebook.com/GinaConkleWriter/


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The Dragonian Series Cover Revamp -Reveal

 Welcome to The Dragonian Series Cover Revamp Reveal


Old                                    New



 
 
UNIVERSAL LINKS TO PURCHASE
FIREBOLT    THUNDERLIGHT    FROSTBITE
MOONBREEZE   STARLIGHT
FireboltThe Dragonian SeriesBook OneAdrienne Woods
Genre: YA FantasyPublisher: Fire Quill Publishing
Dragons. Right. Teenage girls don't believe in fairy tales, and sixteen-year old Elena Watkins was no different.
Until the night a fairy tale killed her father.
Now Elena's in a new world, and a new school. The cutest guy around may be an evil dragon, a Prince wants Elena's heart, and a long dead sorcerer may be waking up to kill her. Oh. And the only way Elena's going to graduate is on the back of a dragon of her own.
Teenage girls don't believe in fairy tales. Now it's time for Elena to believe - in herself.
ThunderlightThe Dragonian SeriesBook TwoAdrienne Woods
Vibrant, scale swathed wings… Abilities that can be harnessed by a chosen few… Dragons…
All this may seem like old news, but for seventeen year-old Elena Watkins the world of Paegeia is not finished revealing all its secrets. During a summer break intended for relaxation, she discovers that her harrowing adventure to retrieve the King of Lion sword wasn’t the destiny foretold by the cryptic Viden, a dragon with the ability to see a person’s true fate. The words inked onto the page of the mysterious Book of Shadows remains black and Elena must return to Dragonia Academy to discover their true meaning.
Upon her return to the magnificent castle she has to face a challenge of a different kind, keeping her boyfriend Lucian McKenzie, the Prince of Tith and love of her life, away from the dangerous new student, Paul Sutton. As a Wyvern, Paul has made it his mission to claim Elena as his rider but he is proving to be more perilous than at first glance.
Everyone knew that Wyverns were bad news, and just as evil as the darkness that lurked inside Blake Leaf, the Rubicon forced to fight against his inner nature every day. But Elena can see a small light lurking in the darkness, a destiny still unfulfilled; to prove that Wyverns can be claimed.
Will Lucian’s dark secret about Wyverns and Elena’s need to prove their true nature cause their love to be torn apart? And which of Elena’s friends will be sacrificed this time if she is wrong?
FrostbiteThe Dragonian SeriesBook ThreeAdrienne Woods
Losing Lucian McKenzie, the Prince of her heart and discovering her true identity has made Elena Watkins' life almost unbearable. However, new trials will test the 17 year-old's strength and push her to limits she didn’t think were possible.
Only a mysterious offer from Blake Leaf, the Rubicon and a dragon predestined for evil, reveals there may be a light at the end of Elena’s dark tunnel.
With the life she thought she knew crashing down around her, Elena will have to face a monumental decision about the fate of Paegeia. She can either make peace with Blake’s demands or try once again to unravel the Queen’s secrets that lie deep within her dragon, Tanya La Frey’s, heart.
The third heart pounding novel in The Dragonian Series by Adrienne Woods
MoonbreezeThe Dragonian SeriesBook FourAdrienne Woods
The life or a star-studded royal has not been kind to eighteen-year-old Elena Watkins. With a Council breathing down her neck and a dragon that refuses to accept her as his rider, she must convince everyone that she is ready to rule Paegeia like her parents before her. But she has made a promise to her father, King Albert, that she will not go looking for him and free the people of Etan. Elena has promised to never truly fulfill her destiny. However, situations out of her control will soon force her to confront herself and the evil that seeks to destroy her. Elena must look inside of herself to discover if she can defeat the approaching darkness, be accepted by the people of Paegeia, bring her dragon back to light and fulfill the destiny written in their stars.
StarlightThe Dragonian SeriesBook FiveAdrienne Woods
In the Fifth and final part of the Dragonian Series, eighteen-year-old Elena Watkins and her dragon, the Rubicon, need to find the missing ingredients in order to free her father from Etan.
But what could the missing ingredient be?
And will she be willing to sacrifice her life if they don't find it before time runs out?

UNIVERSAL LINKS TO PURCHASE
FIREBOLT    THUNDERLIGHT    FROSTBITE
MOONBREEZE   STARLIGHT
About the Author:
I live in South Africa with my husband and two beautiful daughters where I write full time. The Dragonian series is my debut novels and Dream Casters is my second series with book two getting ready for release.
I love life, cherish every special second of it and live my dream.
Website: http://www.authoradriennewoods.com
Facebook: https://web.facebook.com/AdrienneIsa
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/ericb3
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7219081.Adrienne_Woods
Website: http://www.thedragonianseries.com
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