Bertena Varney's Blog, page 2

Kiss of the Fallen Kharma Kelley

 

Kiss of the FallenKharma Kelley Genre: Urban Fantasy RomancePublisher: Wicked Bayou PressDate of Publication: September 18, 2018ISBN: 978-0-9981573-5-1ASIN:B07GPLP4NSNumber of pages:250Word Count:  70K Cover Artist: Kharma Kelley Tagline: The night has a new ruler... Book Description: 
Sooner or later, Mr. Darkness comes for all of us…
At least, that’s what Tristan Castilion, a celebrated Commander of the Vampire Royal Guard, believes. A centuries-old vampire, he just wanted to be left alone. He wanted nothing to do with the war brewing among all the supernaturals and had grown tired of fighting for a lost cause.
Sucked into one last mission from his vampire government, Tristan soon finds himself in the middle of a dark conspiracy within the vampire ranks and a beautiful, half-naked demon chained to his bed.
She is every vampire’s fantasy and nightmare…
Zoë is a Black Blood Slayer—legendary demons bred to do one thing: kill vampires. A true ruler of the night, she's forced to keep her lethal wiles at bay in order to uncover the truth, creating an unlikely partnership with Tristan.
The Night Has a New Ruler…
Her blood is spiked with a desire he longs to tame, but if he does, he could be six-feet under; this time forever. But with both of them on the run and all hell breaking loose, how can he be sure she wants him to love or to destroy?
Fans of Sherrilyn Kenyon, Dannika Dark and Patricia Briggs will enjoy this non-stop action story featuring a badass heroine of color. It’s like Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Romance and a Thriller had a ménage à trois of angry sex, then spawned this book!

BookTrailer: https://www.youtube.com/embed/RSmH_nVg41w

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Excerpt: 

Tristanno sooner entered the foyer of his home when he heard the rustling of metalupstairs and bared his teeth to attack. His gun drawn from his holster, hesnarled at the thought of someone invading sanctuary. Someone had the gall toinvade his home after the shit I've been through today? His body tense, heleaped to the top of the stairs, checking around the hall until he focused onhis bedroom door closed with light shining under from under it. His sensesstill buzzing from the alcohol, he paused to get his bearings, letting theadrenaline stomp down his buzz. Ready to eliminate the threat, Tristan kickeddown his bedroom door. With his gun drawn, he froze as his eyes met with thestark, violet eyes of a woman on his bed.

Hismouth gaped open as she pulled against the glowing chains that were shackled toher wrists and ankles, the metal brushing against the bare flesh of herstomach, and lace-covered breasts.

Herabundant auburn hair cascaded down her back as she struggled to get to herknees as she faced him. She was breath-taking among the black satin of his bedand Tristan's eyes lingered over her from the full pout of her lips all the waydown to the lacy black triangle at the meeting of her thighs.

Okay...Itisn't his birthday...and what was in that fucking drink?

Herscowling face was less than pleased at Tristan's ogling. She pulled against thechains with a loud clink that brought Tristan back to earth.

"Takethis off of me now!" Her eyes were thin slits as she glared at him.

Tristanmoved closer to her, looking around the room for anyone else that decided todrop in on him. The only anomaly there was the woman wearing nothing butstrange chains and underwear on his bed. His gun still drawn and aimed at her,he finally responded. "Who the hell are you?

Andwhy the hell are you here? I didn't order a blood-bag stripper."

Zoësneered at him viciously. "I'm not a stripper, you asshole! Now turn meloose or I'll rip your heart out!" She barked out through gritted teeth.

Tristangave her a smirk. "Woo hoo, strong talk for a woman who can't move threeinches from where she is." He chambered a round in his gun. "Now I'llask you once more. Who the hell are you?"

Hepaused as she suddenly took a deep breath and inhaled him and the air aroundhim.

"Damnit," she cursed under her breath as she realized what he was. Her sensesreeling, she desperately tried to focus on her lucidity as her body primeditself for the hunt. NO! Not until I find out why I'm here in this jerk's room,she pleaded with herself. Focus. Focus. But it was too late. He was so closenow, so very tempting and her body would not listen to reason. It was thenature of her kind, and yet she despised herself for it.

Tristantried to shake the cloudiness from his head as he stared at her. All he couldthink of was ripping that delicate fabric from her body and plunging deep intoher, then sinking his fangs into her lush, radiant skin and sampling her lifeforce. He moved closer to her as she leaned back against the bed, her etherealeyes seductive and enchanting. Tristan stopped at the edge of the bed, nothingbut the iron rail to stop him from moving even closer.

Butsomething in the back of his mind urged that it wasn't right. The need to satehimself with her made him want to tear the heavens down just to have her. Thismaddening, clawing sense of urgency that was so hot, it threatened to burn awayall sense of reasoning. Even his stopping against the railing made his bodyburn for her. An insatiable need to taste her, to take her, as some unknownforce drove him to her like a rabbit in a snare. The feeling was so innate andprimal, Tristan could eagerly walk through all the flames of hell just to tasteher now. It was what some would call, pure insanity.

Helowered his gun.

Shecrooked a finger to him to come closer and he obeyed, moving to the side of thebed, finally dropping his gun to the floor. Reaching for him, she closed hermouth on his, pressing her body against him. Tristan growled at her bare oliveflesh rubbing against the folds of his clothes. He could feel all of her now asif there were no clothing between them. It made his body rigid, and throbbing.Never had he wanted to be inside someone with every fiber of his lost soul withsuch a hunger. Her full lips plundered him, greedy and lustful. He was alreadypainfully erect, pulling at his coat to remove it as her mouth assaulted him inthe most sinful way possible.

Zoë,you have to get a grip. She called within herself, as her tongue darted intohis mouth, brushing against his fangs. He had the metallic taste of blood onhis tongue as if he just came from feeding. The ripple of his flesh beneath hisclothes begged her to strip him to see all of the sinew he hid from her gaze.When his erection poked against her stomach, she groaned at the promise of it.Every molecule in her body was honed to seduce him. To take him and make himhers...

Thebastard deserves to die. He had just fed, probably off a human. Kill him now!

Sheshook her head, trying to dismiss the huntress in her clawing to get out. Ifshe let it take over, this vampire was as good as dead. If she would reject it,the enthrallment would tear her soul to pieces. But this was not a 'stake thevampire, ask questions later' kinda situation. He's the only one who could helpher out of the chains and probably out of this mess she somehow found herselfin. She hated to admit it, but she needed the stupid vamp.

Justa little more, then you can kill him. Bite him!

"NO!"

Hissing,Zoë broke away, pushing him away from her. "Get away damn you!"Tristan shook the haze from his head as he saw her writhe on the bed in pain.His bedroom suddenly filled with the tortured screams of the woman as sheconvulsed and shook on his bed. He started to reach for her, when he saw herback as she pressed her stomach against the bed, screaming. Then she collapsed.

Hewent cold at what he saw.

Tristanstepped back as he saw the elaborate tattoo on her back. Wings were sobeautifully crafted, one would have sworn the black feathers on her bare skinwere actually real. But he knew exactly what those wings represented.

Oh,fuck me!

Theywere the symbol of the clipped wings of the league of angels who chose to fallto protect mankind.

Vampireswere never at the top of the food chain, as much as they'd like to think so.They also had slayers; stronger and more gifted than any Buffy or Van Helsing ahuman could conjure up in their fantasy world.

They,and they alone were the true rulers of the night.

BlackBlood Slayers, demons that had the power to lure a vampire from miles away ifthey chose. They could draw anything without a soul and bend some of thosecreatures to their will.

Thesupreme angels of death to vampires and the lesser demons on earth. They werebeautiful, cunning, and absolutely lethal. Vampires unfortunate enough toencounter one did not live to talk about the experience.

Andhere was one, right in his bed.

Yeah, the night just keeps getting better.

About the Author:  A Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy author, Kharma Kelley has been enamored with all things that go "bump in the night" for who knows how long. She truly believes that finding humanity and beauty in some of the most seemingly unconventional places is part of the romantic psyche to her. A big fan of the Big Easy, Kharma tends to weave her proud Cajun heritage and values into her books. She enjoys reading other urban fantasy and romance novels and is the founder of the Inclusive Romance Project--an online community and mentorship for romance writers of marginalized identities. Website:  http://www.authorkharmakelley.com  Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/authorkharmakelley  Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/kharmakelley  Instagram: http://www.instagram.com/kharmakelley
GoodReads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15662193.Kharma_Kelley  




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Death’s Reckoning Mortal Aspects

 

Death’s ReckoningMortal Aspects Book OneQuinn Thomas
Genre: Epic FantasyPublisher: Ebbing Neptune Publishing Date of Publication: July 18, 2023ISBN: 979-8390605110ASIN: B0BRWW31XHNumber of pages: 419Word Count: ~125k
Tagline: The power of the dead gods is held by mere mortals. When the Aspect of Death, thought to be the last neutral force in the world, joins the struggle, he promises to bring an end to their wars by any means necessary.
Book Description: 
The battle for power is fierce in a world where mortals wield the strength of dead gods in this first book of a high-stakes epic fantasy series from Quinn Thomas.
A thousand years ago, the immortals were slain, their power passed down to a chosen few known as aspects. The competition between noble families for control of these aspects has plunged the land into a never-ending cycle of war and bloodshed.
The Tevulun family has been driven to the brink of extinction by the most recent war. When Tarana Tevulun, who possesses the abilities of Calamity, learns of her family's intention to murder her, she flees with the assistance of a band of mercenaries. The Tevulun’s enemy, the Ma’isans, take advantage of her absence to advance and besiege the capital city of Vicrum. Tarana returns to fight for the city, but faces a difficult challenge due to the involvement of the mortal aspect of Death – thought to be the sole remaining neutral aspect.
Meanwhile, a young soldier named Micol deserts the army after his first taste of battle. When he ends up in the besieged city of Vicrum, he finds himself embroiled with a group of outlaws. Thrust into a world of thieves and rebels, he must confront his deepest fears and make a decision that will change his life forever.
Death's Reckoning is a page-turning epic fantasy for fans of ensemble casts and character-driven plot twists, with echoes of Steven Erikson's Malazan series. Join these mortals as they wield god-like power in a world where even the noblest intentions can lead to destruction.

Available on Amazon

https://amzn.to/3MwqfeL

Excerpt

Micol’sblood ran cold. He closed his eyes, concentrating on taking deep breaths. Pleasedon’t let them see us, he prayed to Loss. Please, let them pass by. It’snot supposed to end like this. Please.

Another man stepped into view.Then a third. Their conversation continued, but Micol couldn’t focus on thewords. He was too busy listening to the growing sounds of movement around them.The pounding boots and squelching mud hinted at a larger force than the threemen who had already passed, although he could only guess at how much larger.

At least a half dozen more cameinto view, most of them near Asoka’s hiding place. The three who’d led the waywere nearly out of sight; Micol could barely see their torches through thethick trees. To his left, a glint of light caught his eyes. When he followed itto its source, he nearly collapsed.

Silvery-blue armor covered thewoman from head to toe, flowing around her like water. Every inch of skin wascovered, leaving only a pair of thin slits for her eyes. She was close enoughto Micol to touch. His entire body began to shake, demanding action.

He couldn’t be still anymore. Hisevery fiber screamed one word: escape. He had to get out, but there wasnowhere to go. The beating of his heart raged thunderous in his ears until itfelt like the sound alone would betray him. Cold sweat beaded on his feveredskin. The aspect’s head swung in his direction.

Micol tried to bolt from the tree– away from the aspect – but she reacted faster than he would have thoughtpossible. Her hand snapped out, stopping his momentum and taking the pair ofthem to the ground. He managed to twist in time to see her liberating a rusteddagger from its sheath.

From out of sight, he heard thegroan of a bowstring. The aspect’s dagger plunged toward his chest, but beforeit could strike the tip of an arrow spiked through one of the slits in herhelm. Its force pushed her off him, and Micol took his chance. He was on hisfeet in an instant, running away from the group of soldiers.

He met Asoka’s wide-eyed stare;the other boy still held his bow in a ready position. Time stood still for asolitary moment before Micol broke the contact.

Bodies thudded; wood cracked fromout of Micol’s view. “Got him!” he heard someone say. “He doesn’t look like anassassin to me.”

Micol kept running. He heard thefootsteps of several men behind him, but he didn’t dare stop to check theirprogress.

“Get the other one!” someone elseshouted.

“Over there! He’s headed towardthe undergrowth!”

Micol fell into a row of densebushes, forcing himself through. Branches and thorns tore at his skin andclothes, but he paid them little mind. The men chasing him reached the bushes amoment after he broke through the other side.

His days on the streets of Vicrumcame back to him, lessons born from a thousand beatings doled out by thoseolder and larger.There was always someone faster, someone stronger. But Micolhad had one advantage: he was willing to go further. A path ahead promised easyescape, but instead of heading for it he plunged deeper into the undergrowth.

A thick root tripped Micol,sending him toppling head-over-heels down a stream bed. He hissed as a flare ofpain shot up from his ankle; he inched toward the running water, but a soundcame a moment later that stopped him cold.

“Micol!” a distant voice cried.Asoka’s voice. “Help! Please help me!” The pitiful cry was like an icy knifeplunged into his lungs.

He didn’t makeit out, Micolthought. I didn’t even stop to think about helping him escape. He roseto his knees, taking stock of the situation. He’d lost his bow when the aspecthad taken him, which left the small hunting knife on his belt as his onlyweapon.

“Help! Oh, aspects, please!”

Micol knew what he was supposedto do. The stories soldiers shared were full of such scenarios; if he had beenthe hero in one of those stories, he would have drawn his knife and carved apath of blood back to his friend to save him. The men searching for him weregetting close, and he knew he had to make his decision soon.

A sound like an axe hitting atree echoed through the forest, sending a morbid shiver down Micol’s spine. Hesummoned all of his courage, but it wasn’t enough. He turned back to the streamand jumped in, letting the water carry him away.

 

About the Author:
Quinn Thomas is an Epic Fantasy author and occasional pool shark from Denver, Colorado. When she’s not writing stories about people thrust into situations that turn them into heroes (or more frequently, villains), she’s wrestling her 100-lb labrador retriever. Her favorite fantasy series is Mistborn by Brandon Sanderson.
Things Quinn has tried exactly once and wants to mention because she thinks they make her seem cool: skydiving, surfing, paddle-boarding, yoga.
Things Quinn has tried several times and wants to mention because they make her seem less cool: eating Cheetos on the couch while wearing yoga pants, tripping on her own feet, singing karaoke songs completely sober.
Website: https://quinn-thomas.com/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/29763228.Quinn_Thomas
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Quinn-Thomas/author/B0BS493VHK




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The Blood of a King The Rahmirion Chronicles Book One Wells and Bruzzi

 

The Blood of a King The Rahmirion ChroniclesBook OneWells and Bruzzi 
Genre: Epic FantasyPublisher: New Upper BooksDate of Publication: 4/25/2023ISBN: Hardcover- 9798986771212 ISBN: Paperback- 9798986771205   Number of pages: 474Word Count: 179,000Cover Artist: Mert Genccinar
Book Description:
Victory was only the beginning.
Prince Mayson Karrok of Astymere grew up hearing countless stories from the night of his birth. Whispers of murder and betrayal; of war and destruction, all at the hands of an emperor who wanted him dead before he could take his first breath. A night meant to being a peaceful conclusion to the Endless War would become known across the world as the Night of Knives. The scar he bears on his chest is a reminder of just how lucky he is to be alive. 
But over a decade after his father, King Henry, killed that emperor and destroyed his empire, Mayson finds himself fighting to find his own way, fueled by the desire to both follow in his father’s footsteps, and to break free from his shadow to forge his own path. 
Unbeknownst to Mayson, his father set in motion a chain of events that would come to rule his destiny. When he is forced to choose between love and duty, will Mayson have the will to do what is right? For he’ll need all the strength and support he can muster as enemies begin to surround him, both from outside Astymere, and from within.  

Amazon

Excerpt

Henryreached out to touch the doors, and the more he fought it, the more the voiceof the Raelian emperor mocked him. Tell me, Henry. Does the boy look like you?Does the proud blood of the Avaari flow within him, or has your whore given himtoo much of her mark?

“Silence,”Henry said, turning from the doors to break the illusion. He nearly stumbledupon a line of burnt skeletons strewn across the floor. “One more word and yourdeath will be slow, I swear it. You will curse the day you first drew breath.”

Theillusion had been broken, but the voice remained. I wish to know the face of myenemy, Karrok. When we come together at last, I wish to know it well.

“You willnever touch him! Do you hear? You will never lay your hands on him!” Henryswung about, striking at the source of the voice, but it came from within, asslippery and foul as pond scum. The Beast will have his day, Karrok. You knowit. One by one, those you hold dear will fall under his might. Your wife, yourmongrel—even your precious Rahm shall be consumed by the Second Flame. Butfirst, they shall all weep for you. You shall mark the beginning of the end.

The voicedragged Henry back into his false vision, forcing him to once again see thedevastation he could not prevent. The windows blew apart around him as firerained from the sky, drenching the White City in blazing destruction thatconsumed flesh, stone, and steel. It seemed like minutes before Henry finallytook control of himself and stood before the emperor on his balcony, overlookingthe growing inferno, listening to the sounds of screams. Tiberian’s hands wereoutstretched, his arms spread wide. His smile was filled with what Henry couldonly describe as pure, unhinged madness as he gazed upon the burning city andlaughed. Even after Rahmirion took Tiberian’s head from his shoulders, thatsmile remained—and the emperor’s laugh could not be silenced.

“Nooooo!” Henry bellowed into the emptycorridor. The vision was gone, and so was the voice. Those words stayed withhim for nearly twenty years, but he had never heard them so clearly. He hadtried to forget the look of glee on Tiberian’s face as fire bled from anotherwise clear sky.

About the Authors:
JONATHAN WELLS, lifelong fantasy and sci-fi lover, has been making up stories for as long as he can remember. Some have been scribbled on scraps of printer paper, others were left to just rattle around in his head. And that is exactly how this novel came to be.
The seeds for this epic fantasy were first planted in his 12-year-old brain, a day-dream world where he could wander off when school became too boring. After ten years, the daydream had taken on such a clear shape, with a linear plot and fully fleshed out characters, that he decided it was time to give it a proper “birth.” 
After showing rough sketch of one of his characters to college roommate, DENNIS BRUZZI, his friend “wanted in,” and the rest is history. Dennis, a proven storyteller through his work in journalism and video production, is taking pen to paper for the first time in the fantasy realm. An avid reader and a fantasy enthusiast, he is ecstatic to have worked with his longtime friend to bring this unique and expansive story to life.
“And The Blood of a King is only the tip of the iceberg,” promise Jonathan and Dennis. There are eight more books planned in this epic fantasy series.
https://www.wellsandbruzzi.com    
https://facebook.com/wellsbruzzi/ 
https://instagram.com/wellsandbruzzi/ 

Prophecy of Gods and Crows Clan of Shadows Series Book One C.D. Britt

 

Prophecy of Gods and CrowsClan of Shadows SeriesBook OneC.D. Britt
Genre: Fantasy/ Dystopian/ Celtic Mythology Publisher: C.D. BrittDate of Publication: 06/06/2023ISBN: 978-1-7372652-8-3ASIN: B0BRDHTFZXNumber of pages: 362Word Count: 98,220Cover Artist: GermanCreative
Tagline: Bryndis Kenneally is an anomaly, which is saying something when you live in a place once called Hell.
Book Description:
Welcome to Ifreann.... once known as Hell's Gate.
Bryndis Kenneally is an anomaly, which is saying something when you live in a place once called Hell.
Despite being born into a family of healers, she is unable to follow in their footsteps since disturbing visions overwhelm her with almost every human touch.With few allies at her back, she keeps her head down… until a freak sandstorm brings more than she bargained for—a man of shadows who seeks retribution, a crow that follows her everywhere, and two strangers who appear inside the locked gates of Ifreann.
Two strangers with a message for Bryndis and her friends.
But will these strangers be her end? Or will they be her salvation?
Either way, she knows one thing is for certain.
She can no longer pretend to be a normal woman among a town looking for witches to burn.
Book one in the Clan of Shadows series, a dystopian Celtic mythology paranormal (slow burn) romance series. It has elements of cli-fi and quiet a few morally gray characters.
TW: religious trauma, sexual content, abuse (past and present by family member), scenes of war
Book Trailer: https://www.tiktok.com/@cdbrittauthor/video/7226769276424703275 
Available at Amazon https://amzn.to/3IdvI8U

Excerpt

Brynswayed her body to the last of the music, the night ending slowly as peoplestumbled and laughed after having allowed themselves the pleasure of beinghuman one night of the year.

Soonenough, only the light of the torches were left aside from the fires thatburned only once a year along the street. The shadows took over the celebrationas they danced along the buildings.

Thefeeling in her gut, the warning, grew at a rapid rate and she found herselfstanding and looking around.

“What’swrong?” Niamh asked, standing as well, looking for a threat.

“I’mnot sure. I’ve had this bad feeling…” Bryn whispered as her system flooded withadrenaline.

Thewarning horns split open the joyous atmosphere of the night like a knife. Thescreams of the people matching the horns as they ran from the streets to take coverfrom the unknown danger.

Brynand Niamh both turned as one toward the gate as small dust devils made theirway along the street, trailing the panicked townspeople as they ran, shoving ateach other like wild, mindless animals.

“Sandstorm,”Niamh whispered, her eyes focused on something past the gates. Words in anotherlanguage Bryn had never heard soon left Niamh’s lips.

Inher own panicked state, Bryn tried to calm her nerves, debating on if she couldmake it back to her apartment or if she needed to take cover with Niamh. Thefact that Niamh was in a trance, staring intensely at the gate, made her handtwitch with the urge to slap Niamh out of it.  
“Sandstorm!” Justin yelled as he ran down the road toward them. “Get inside andtake cover!”

They’dnever had a sandstorm bad enough to cause such panic before. The walls usuallytook the brunt of the weather for them.

“Now!”Justin was suddenly in her face, shoving at her shoulder and pushing her andNiamh into The Sanctuary. A horrifying cloud of red dust enveloped the townright as Justin slammed the door shut behind them. The entire road engulfed intornadic sand was the last visual she had of Saint’s road.

“Awayfrom the windows!” He herded them to an inner room in The Sanctuary, yellingfor the others in brothel to do the same. Bryn didn’t look to see what men fromtown were here.

Shedidn’t want that on her conscience and since she was a horrible poker player,she didn’t want to pretend in public when she watched them walking with theirfamilies to church service before she turned in for the day.

Settlingdown in one of the supply rooms, Bryn put her head to her knees, wrapping herarms around her legs. Focusing on her breathing and not the glass breaking,Bryn worked to calm her heart rate, trying to ignore the sobs of the otherwomen in the dark room as the glass broke and the wind howled.

Finianwhined, having moved back to Justin’s side.

Theonly light was from the cracked door Justin looked through, flinching everyonce in a while as he watched the storm bear down on their little town.

“Calmyourselves. Your yelling isn’t going to change the course of this storm,” Niamhchided, her voice barely audible over the furniture breaking outside of theirlittle room. Bryn was surprised by the calmness in Niamh’s voice as herbusiness was being torn apart. Her whole life was in The Sanctuary.

Atingling started in her fingers and toes, as well as the all too familiarfeeling of ants under her skin. Bryn rubbed along her arms at the same time asJustin, their movements mirroring each other.

Lookingto Niamh, her eyes focused on the wall as if she could see through it, as ifher focus could stop the destruction, Bryn patted the woman on the shoulderbefore she pulled back.

Herskin was growing more sensitive and the anxiety building up inside her wasbecoming a raging inferno.

“Iam here, come to me, my child,” Bryn heard the whispered words, and looked forwho was speaking. No one else looked around for the voice, as if they hadn’theard it.

Brynwas sure her heart stopped. Was this a vision? It didn’t feel like one.

WhenJustin looked at her, his eyes confused, she realized it wasn’t just her who hadheard the whispered plea.

Thedistraction of Justin kept her from noticing one of the men in the room sittingtoo close to her, his fingers brushing hers and she knew before it happened shewas going into a vision.

Feelingit come upon her, she scooted away from him, further into the corner of theroom right as the black stole over her vision.

 

About the Author:
C.D. Britt began her writing journey when her husband told her she needed to use her excessive imagination to write stories as opposed to creating a daily narrative for him. Ever since she penned her first words, life has been a lot more peaceful for him.
She currently resides in Texas where she has yet to adapt to the heat. Her husband thrives in it, so unfortunately, they will not be relocating to colder climates anytime soon.
Their two young children would honestly complain either way.
When she is not in her writing cave (hiding from the sun), she enjoys ignoring the world as much as her children will allow with a good book, music, and vast amounts of coffee (until it’s time for wine).
C.D. Britt is the author of the Reign of Goddesses series and Prophecy of Gods and Crows (coming 6/6/23).
Website: https://authorcdbritt.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/BrittAuthor
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorcdbritt
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorcdbritt/
Newsletter: https://www.subscribepage.com/authorcdbritt
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/C.D.-Britt/author/B095PWMBYH
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/21592919.C_D_Britt


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Babe in the Woods Jude Hopkins

 

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Babe in the WoodsJude Hopkins
Genre: Women’s FictionPublisher: The Wild Rose Press Inc.Date of Publication: June 7, 2023ISBN 978-1-5092-4843-8 ISBN 978-1-5092-4844-5 Number of pages: 294Word Count: 72,321 Cover Artist:  Tina Lynn Stout
Tagline: Timber! She’s Falling in Love
Book Description: 
It’s September 1995, the first year of the rest of Hadley Todd's life. After living in Los Angeles, Hadley returns to her hometown in rural New York to write and be near her father. 
In addition to looking after him and teaching high school malcontents, Hadley hopes to channel her recent L.A. heartbreak into a play about the last moment of a woman’s innocence. But she seeks inspiration.
Enter Trey Harding, a young, handsome reporter who covers sports at the high school. Trey reminds Hadley of her L.A. ex and is the perfect spark to fire up her imagination. The fact that Trey is an aspiring rock star and she has L.A. record biz connections makes the alliance perfect. She dangles promises of music biz glory while watching his moves. 
But the surprising twist that transpires when the two of them go to Hollywood is not something Hadley prepared for.

Amazon     BN

About the Author:
Jude Hopkins has published essays in The Los Angeles Times, Medium, the belladonna—and poetry in various journals including Gyroscope Review, Timber Creek Review and California Quarterly. Her first novel, Babe in the Woods, will be published June 7, 2023. She has also taught English and news writing at various universities, including the University of Pittsburgh at Bradford, Arizona State University and St. Bonaventure University in Olean, N.Y. She also worked at Capitol Records in Hollywood for a few halcyon and unforgettable years.
Website:  https://www.judehopkinswriting.net/
Blog: https://www.judehopkinswriting.net/my-blog 
Twitter: https://twitter.com/HeyJudeNotJudy 

Delayed Dog Tired Brewery Book One Jessica Jayne

 

DelayedDog Tired Brewery Book OneJessica Jayne
Genre: Contemporary Romance Publisher: Evernight PublishingDate of Publication: May 17, 2023ASIN: B0C456TQSKNumber of pages: 118Word Count: 32,000Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Book Description: 
As head of distribution for his multi-million-dollar Orlando-based brewery, Rex Bancroft travels all the time. With his schedule, this leaves no time for a relationship, not that he wants one. He plays the field and plays it often. At least that was what he planned, but there’s someone that catches his attention and won’t let up—a certain brunette at the Grand Rapids airport ticket counter.
Anna Montgomery was hoping this business trip to Michigan would assist her with the next rung of the corporate ladder. Meeting a dreamy and interesting man wasn’t in her plans, it isn’t something she’s entirely happy with at first.
Key words: at first…
A snowstorm delays their flights, leaving them stranded in wintry Michigan. Will their time together ignite some heat to keep them both warm? Or will it result in broken hearts? 
Amazon

Excerpt

Theairline agent smiled tightly at Anna. A few minutes later, she pushed theprinted boarding pass and Anna’s ID across the counter. “Safe travels.”

Annabit her lip. Safe travels. Ha! How about just “travels”?

Sheneeded to be more optimistic. The flight wasn’t cancelled…yet.

Boardingticket in hand, she’d head to the security line and then her gate, where she’dwait and flip through her Instagram feed until her plane arrived. Turning onher heels, she bumped face first into a wall of solid muscle. A clean,outdoorsy scent swathed her and immediately made her lightheaded. She staredfor a moment at a tan quilted vest jacket lying unzipped over a hard chest,exposing planes of chiseled muscle under the navy-blue long sleeve t-shirt thatread Dog Tired Brewery in white script. The picture of a dog lying on its sideasleep with its tongue hanging out completed the logo—one she recognized as theymade her favorite seasonal stout.

Sheclutched his t-shirt, trying to keep her balance. His hard abs flexed under herhands. Heat radiated from him and warmed her frozen fingers, which had been numbfor the last several hours.

Liftingher head, her breath caught when her gaze fell on an angular jaw, full lips andbeautiful green eyes. He gripped her arms firmly above the elbows to keep herfrom falling backward. His warmth seeped through the arms of her peacoat.

“Shit!Are you alright?” His deep, rich voice washed over her.

Heatrushed her cheeks and her body churned with a warmth she’d been missing eversince stepping off the plane in Michigan.

“Uh.Yeah! I…I’m fine.” Yikes. Her hands were plastered against his ripped abdomen.She let them slide down. It wasn’t just the impact of running into him thatknocked her off balance. He was the most beautiful creature she’d laid eyes on.

“Areyou sure?” The intensity of his stare almost melted her into a puddle at hisfeet. His eyes, irises flecked with gold, narrowed. “You hit me pretty hard.”

“Yes.I’m so sorry. Sorry for running into you.” She gained control over her waveringvoice and unsteady legs.

Hereleased her arms and stepped back.

“Ishould have been watching where I was going.”

Hispowerful gaze trailed down her without shame and a warmth followed as if hecaressed her bare skin. Her cheeks had never been so on fire.

“Noneed to apologize.” He grinned. “I’d say it’s my lucky day.” His eyes twinkled.

Thisstranger was flirting with her.

Shecleared her throat. It’s not that men didn’t flirt with her. They did. It was ahazard in her line of business. Insurance was a man’s world, for the most part.She shrugged off the flirtatious advances from the men she worked with. Mixingbusiness with pleasure was a no-no. But this guy… she’d mix just about anythingwith him. If she were that kind of girl.

 

About the Author:
Contemporary Romance Author – Sexy Stories with Heart
Jessica is a born and raised small-town Ohio girl, who moved to the Sunshine State after graduating from college with an English degree. She attended law school and passed her bar exam on the very first attempt. She met the love of her life in a romance novel sort of way. They married and have three beautiful (and sometimes crazy) kids.
Jessica loves to travel and travel often! She’s jumped out of several perfectly good airplanes. When not watching her son rule the soccer field or her daughters dominate the volleyball court, she watches Buckeye football and the Tampa Bay Lightning. She’s a wine-making (and wine-tasting with her girlfriends) aficionado. She loves all music. Would follow the Avett Brothers to the ends of the Earth. Thinks Eric Church is a rock star. Worships Jason Momoa. Believes Game of Thrones was the best show on television but lives by many Seinfeld-isms.
Life is always an adventure!
Website: https://jessicajayneauthor.com/ 
Twitter: https://twitter.com/JessicaJayne13
Tiktok: https://www.tiktok.com/@authorjessicajayne
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJessicaJayne 
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jessica_jayne_author/ 
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So Now What, Harnessing Grief After Life’s Major Losses Alexandra McGroarty

 

So Now What, Harnessing Grief After Life’s Major LossesAlexandra McGroarty
Genre: Self HelpPublisher: Atmosphere PressDate of Publication: April 25 2023ISBN-13: 978-1639888825Number of pages:112Word Count: 20,000Cover Artist: Jenna Gelow Designs
Tagline: What Does it Mean to Harness Grief?
Book Description: 
When faced with the tragic loss of a loved one, we can find a path that strengthens us, utilizes our experiences, and continues a meaningful relationship with that person. 
Author Alexandra McGroarty learned how to do so and is now gratified to share her insights. With her earned understanding, Alexandra offers her judgment-free, open-hearted, and fair-minded approach to living with and moving through grief, in whatever form it may take, in whatever way you choose.
Amazon  

Excerpt:

There is an unwritten rulethat in the first chapter of any book on grief, the author must explain whatgrief is—as if the readers of the book don’t know. Grief affects everyone atsome point. We reach out for guides like this, not for definition, but forreassurance, companionship, answers. We may already be going through life’shardest tests. Our grief affects our every waking moment—and every sleepingmoment—and ruthlessly changes us from the inside out.

We absolutely know what grief is.

Out of nowhere, when I was only thirty-one years old, I lost my husband, Mike,to a sudden tragedy. Mike was thirty-nine—a young man still—and our childrenwere only four and six. That man was and is my soulmate. To this day, I amgratified for having known and loved him. And losing him was a blow that almostleveled me. Within a matter of hours, I went from being a happy wife to being awidow. I was in a state of shock—nothing had prepared me to lose someone soclose to me.

At that time, I had dealt with loss before, but none had so mercilessly turnedmy life upside down. I was shocked to the core, unable to process the truthuntil days—maybe weeks—later.

Then I found myself coping with not only my grief but our children’s as well. Iwas trying to run a business at the time and had multiple responsibilities androles. Some days I felt like hiding in bed, but I simply could not—too manyothers relied on me. The road from that time to now was a long and complex one,full of discoveries—some painful, some remarkable—that I want to share withyou. I write this book for anyone who has suffered a loss. Your griefexperience is yours alone, but you need not be alone in living with it.

About the Author:
Alexandra founded McGroarty and Co. Consulting and serves as the lead Human Resources consultant. Alex is a certified Diversity Professional as well as a Certified Professional Coach. She recently obtained a graduate certificate from Cornell University in sustainability. Alexandra lives with her two children, Lucas and Ava, their two dogs, Sugar and Fiona, and a feisty cat named Scrambles, in New Jersey. In her free time, she likes to spend time with family, travel, and volunteer in the Greater Philadelphia area.
www.alexandramcgroarty.com
https://www.linkedin.com/in/amcgroarty/ 
https://www.facebook.com/alexandramcgroarty 
https://www.instagram.com/amcgroarty_author/



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Scrooge’s Folly – Saving Jacob Marley David Weinberg

 

Scrooge’s Folly – Saving Jacob MarleyDavid Weinberg
Genre: Romantic Comedy/Paranormal RomancePublisher: Old Fezziwig PressDate of Publication: May 23rd, 2023ISBN: 9798218104054ASIN: BOBRZ457N4Number of pages: 285Word Count: 80,000Cover Artist: Nicole Collis
Tagline: Love and redemption are always possible…even for the dead.
Book Description: 
Award-winning, but down-on-her-luck playwright, Andrea Smilow, is commissioned by The Playhouse in Connecticut to save it from bankruptcy with a new work.  
When she arrives, she discovers that The Playhouse is inhabited by the spirit of the real Jacob Marley, and he wants her play to be about him…to set the story straight about how Dickens ruined his life with A Christmas Carol. 
Andrea believes he needs to be reunited with the spirit of Ebenezer Scrooge, who lives in the caretaker house.  It is all Scrooge’s idea.  He has been working with Andrea’s roommate, the most powerful witch in North America, to win a second life for Marley from God…and to get Marley and Andrea to fall in love.

Amazon     BN

Excerpt:
     Andrea walked to the coffee table and picked up the letter.She held it up and jabbed at it with her right index finger. “Eleven regionaltheatre companies have performed Rememberings this year, and I get a royaltycheck for $750. How could that be right? They’re screwing me and I have no ideawhat I’m supposed to do.”
     “Call Roger and see what he has to say.”
     Andrea laughed. “Roger? He texted me yesterday. Not a wordabout money. He texts me once a year and never once has mentioned royalties…letus not forget that Roger is my last remaining tie to Brian. I met Roger throughBrian. Fifty agents wanted to sign me, and Brian insisted I go with Roger andWMA. He’s a pleasant enough guy, unlike Brian, but he’s never done a damn thingfor me. Is it Brian’s fault for recommending him, or my fault for listening tohim?”
     Thoughts of Brian hit Andrea like a face against awindshield. She hadn’t thought about him consciously in a long time, yet he wasnever far from her thoughts. Some guys are like that; they just get into yourblood. Often it is the horrible ones that stay there. As the hot water from theshower touched her skin, it elicited an almost imperceptible sigh. She andBrian had spent many a shower together. She remembered how he loved to soap herbreasts, and make her nipples hard…until they begged for his lips. She tossedher wet hair out of her eyes and slapped the wall, chastising herself for eventhinking about him. He was just one of many evil spirits she had encountered inher life, and he was her past. Perhaps Ivoryton would point the way to herfuture. She shook her head as she dried her hair with a towel. She had no ideathat she was not quite done with Brian yet.

About the Author:
David Weinberg is a screenwriter and musician. Most recently a quarter-finalist in the 2022 Creative Screenwriting Pilot competition. 
He has a B.S. in Environmental Health from Quinnipiac University and a Masters in Liberal Studies from Wesleyan University.  He is divorced and owns the two most spoiled cats in America.
Website www.davidweinbergauthor.com 
Instagram https://www.instagram.com/scroogesfolly1/ 
Facebook https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100090291911308  


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You can also enter The Contest on the author's site to win
1st Prize – A cameo in the movie version when it gets produced. Winner chosen Christmas Eve -2023
2nd Prize – Ibanez 6 string sunburst acoustic guitar, gigbag and capo.
https://davidweinbergauthor.com/reader-rewards/ 

Babe in the Woods Jude Hopkins

 

Tour Spotlight HTML Babe in the Woods
Babe in the WoodsJude Hopkins
Genre: Women’s FictionPublisher: The Wild Rose Press Inc.Date of Publication: June 7, 2023ISBN 978-1-5092-4843-8 ISBN 978-1-5092-4844-5 Number of pages: 294Word Count: 72,321 Cover Artist:  Tina Lynn Stout
Tagline: Timber! She’s Falling in Love
Book Description: 
It’s September 1995, the first year of the rest of Hadley Todd's life. After living in Los Angeles, Hadley returns to her hometown in rural New York to write and be near her father. 
In addition to looking after him and teaching high school malcontents, Hadley hopes to channel her recent L.A. heartbreak into a play about the last moment of a woman’s innocence. But she seeks inspiration.
Enter Trey Harding, a young, handsome reporter who covers sports at the high school. Trey reminds Hadley of her L.A. ex and is the perfect spark to fire up her imagination. The fact that Trey is an aspiring rock star and she has L.A. record biz connections makes the alliance perfect. She dangles promises of music biz glory while watching his moves. 
But the surprising twist that transpires when the two of them go to Hollywood is not something Hadley prepared for.

Amazon     BN

Excerpt:

There was a knock on the door asHadley sat down with a bowl of chocolate-chip ice cream. She glanced at theclock: 8 p.m. Sunday night. She’d shot the whole weekend, mostly grading papersand sleeping the day before.

“My God,” she said aloud,remembering Trey’s promise to make good on a date. How could he possibly showup after she’d been so deliberately elusive? She had forgotten the resiliencyof some guys.

“Who is it?” she trilled, bouncing amound of the frozen dessert on her tongue. She cleared her throat and repeatedthe question, all the while picking up the detritus from the weekend—the pizzabox, the ice cream container, the National Enquirer.

“ ‘Tis I, Old Dog Trey,” he yelledthrough the door. “Ever faithful. We have a meeting, remember?”

She used her fingers to comb herhair and moaned when the mirror reflected a wan, puffy face staring back ather.

“I never confirmed any meeting,” shesaid through the door. She hurried to straighten the cushions on the couch.“I’ll take a rain check.” Her heart was doing double time.

“C’mon. Please open the door. It’sgetting chilly out here.” His voice was deeper than usual.She brushed the lint off her sweatshirt and zipped up her jeans before opening the door.

Trey was twirling the end of a whitestick in his mouth. With a loud slurping sound, he pulled from his mouth abright red lollipop before sticking out his tongue, which now matched the colorof his shirt.  

“Fire your secretary,” he said, tappinghis watch. “May I come in?”

She let him in, the shame of herunkempt apartment equaled only by the shame of her own disheveled appearance.

He stood close to her. “I have tosay, you are much more attractive without all that make-up.” He talked with thelollipop stuck in his cheek. “Definitely younger.”

It was an approach she rememberedfrom her time with Derek. First you surprise them, then compliment them whenthey’re at their most vulnerable. She made a mental note.

He walked toward the nearest chair,sat down, but quickly jumped up again, fishing in his pockets. “Where are mymanners? Here.” He extended a lollipop, grape flavor, her favorite.

“No thanks.” It wasn’t even on thelevel of the apple Neil had given her on the first day of school. Besides, whatwas with men and their semiotics anyway? Perhaps it beat communicating withwords. And how in the world would he have known grape was her favorite flavor?Was she that transparent? Was there a grape “type” as opposed to an orange orcherry type? The grape type would be moody and dark. The orange type would beyoung, perky, sassy. The cherry type? Passionate, desirable. Like him.

Lollipops aside, he was lusciousness itself, theblood-red shirt adding to his angel-faced carnality. His skin glowed, no doubtfrom a day spent in the autumn sun with a frisky faun. 

About the Author:
Jude Hopkins has published essays in The Los Angeles Times, Medium, the belladonna—and poetry in various journals including Gyroscope Review, Timber Creek Review and California Quarterly. Her first novel, Babe in the Woods, will be published June 7, 2023. She has also taught English and news writing at various universities, including the University of Pittsburgh at Bradford, Arizona State University and St. Bonaventure University in Olean, N.Y. She also worked at Capitol Records in Hollywood for a few halcyon and unforgettable years.
Website:  https://www.judehopkinswriting.net/
Blog: https://www.judehopkinswriting.net/my-blog 
Twitter: https://twitter.com/HeyJudeNotJudy 

Truth in Blue All that Matters Book One Mirai Amell

 

Truth in BlueAll that Matters Book OneMirai Amell
Genre: High FantasyPublisher: Shadow Spark PublishingDate of Publication: March 20, 2023ASIN: B0BWNFMMFTNumber of pages: 379Word Count: 102KCover Artist: MiblArt
Tagline: Sometimes life is better as a lie.
Book Description:
Malakai wanted to protect his kingdom from threats beyond its borders. Instead, stripped of his magic and on the run, he now needs to save it from his brother, the king himself.
Amaryllis wanted to have nothing to do with humans. Instead, stranded in the wrong realm, she now needs to retrieve a lost fae relic with powers no one comprehends.
Una wanted to be a knight in shining armor. Instead, haunted by the memories of a life she never lived, Una now needs to find answers from someone she doesn’t remember meeting. 
When their paths cross, each must decide what matters to them the most.Or risk losing everything they hold dear.
In a world where Angels and Shades battle for souls while the Devil sips his tea, the fate of one country, two races, and four realms hangs in the balance when love and loyalties are tested to their limits. 
Amazon

Excerpt - Chapter 1

No place like home

The palacewas too quiet.

It shouldhave been abuzz with many familiar noises: gardeners tending the plants, cooksclanging the utensils, and servants running errands. Instead, the rhythmicclip-clop of the hooves from Ciaran’s horse was the only sound echoing acrossthe palace courtyard. The perfectly manicured shrubs and flowers bloomingduring peak summer looked exhausted, having to keep the facade of theirexpected sunny disposition. In contrast, barricaded in a garden corner, rootedyet lifeless, the prana plants glinted cunningly. With the sunlight bouncingoff their amber-colored crystalline form, it was as if they were watching him.

As if theyknew something he didn’t.

Thetrained senses of a King’s Knight warned him, but Ciaran dismounted,nevertheless. How could he be wary of a place he had called home for so long?After a few moments of deliberation, Ciaran decided to tie his horse to one ofthe pillars near the doorway, just in case. 

He had practically grown up at the palace, having arrived there at thirteen tolive and train as an apprentice knight. His father, Oswald—a Bender and theLord of Korbridge—had still been alive then to watch with pride when Ciaran hadreceived the royal crest that declared him a King’s Knight five years later.The metal emblem, carved with a golden sun rising from behind a jeweled dagger,was pinned to the chest of Ciaran’s black coat when Oswald passed away a fewmonths after the ceremony. That had been six years ago. Malakai had stayed byhis side through the ups and downs, the triumphs and losses. He was a friend, arival, a comrade, and the closest thing to a family Ciaran had left.

He wouldgladly walk into a raging fire if it were for Malakai.

Now,Ciaran walked into the decidedly frosty palace.

No onegreeted him in the main hall. The throne room, offices, and foyer were alleerily deserted.

He couldsense people around, hear their hushed whispers and the echoes of theirfootsteps, yet it seemed they were deliberately avoiding him. Ignoring thestrange stillness in the air, he resolutely walked toward his sleeping chambersin the north wing. Of all the knights in the country, only ten were chosen tobe King’s Knights, the ones who lived in the palace, attending to the rulingKing of Castellon.

Halfway tohis destination, he stopped at the edge of the winding stairs. The stairsdiverged here: one set of steps went up to the royal residence, and the otherwent down to the palace dungeons, a place that brought back haunting memoriesfor him. He tried to shake them off and turned to take the stairs goingupwards.

“I seeyou’re back already.” The hostility in the voice of General Atkins standingbefore him startled Ciaran. The five knights, who had crept up behind him inthe meantime, didn’t appear any friendlier. Reva, Lucia, Feris, Goran, and Jahirall held weapons. To make things worse, they knew each other too well.

“General,where is he?” Ciaran could not stop panic from rising in his heart. The agingGeneral had gray in his hair, but his height and breadth made him a mountain ofa man. The formidable presence of this experienced warrior was enough to makegrown men wet themselves (most grown men). Still, Ciaran did not break eyecontact with his mentor, his emerald eyes demanding answers.

TheGeneral winced almost imperceptibly before replying, “The king sent him toLasceraz.” Ciaran’s blood froze in his veins; he was too late for his friend.

“They’dsuch a shouting match that the stewards had to call me from my home in thecity,” Atkins said. “I found Malakai unconscious on the floor, and the onlything I got from the king was the order to transport him to the dungeons inLasceraz. In chains. Ciaran, what’s going on?”

TheGeneral implored him for some explanation.

“How longago?” Ciaran ignored the General’s question to ask his own.

“Nearlythree days now. What are you guys keeping from us? Answer me!”

Ciarandidn’t reply, his mind already calculating his next steps. Lasceraz, theinfamous prison, was in the southernmost corner of the country. It would takeseveral months to reach it on horseback unless he secured the service of aspace-Bender mage—like the General, for sure, had. Fortunately, he knew one whoused to work for his father, but Bender Farley lived in Ciaran’s hometownKorbridge, and it would take a few days to reach there from Castle. The longerhe delayed, the more time Malakai would rot in Lasceraz.

Just asCiaran turned around to leave, the knights readied their weapons: two sets ofdaunting daggers, two shining swords, and one menacing mace pointed straight athim. The General himself did not carry anything, standing with his arms crossedin front of him. Not to mention that Ciaran was not a mage, but two of theknights and the General were. Taking a deep breath, he brushed his sandy hairback with his right hand; a few locks strayed back over his green eyes.

“You trulybelieve you can stop me from leaving?” he asked, smiling for the first time sinceentering the palace grounds.

Theknights looked highly uncomfortable, for they were well aware of who they wereup against. People in the kingdom might not know his name, but every knight inthe country knew of Ciaran’s reputation.

“No. Idon’t believe we can manage that…” The General replied truthfully, “But I needto say that we tried our best regardless.”

Ciarangave his mentor a quick nod, steadied his sword, and took his stance. “Iunderstand.”
***

Hecouldn’t understand how he was still alive.

His entirebeing ached; his muscles and even his bones were sore.

Malakaitried to turn on his bed to find an angle where it would hurt slightly less,and a pained yelp escaped his mouth. The cold iron bit his wrists, sinking itsunyielding teeth into his joints. He opened his eyes to find himself chained tothe walls.

Lasceraz.A wave of despair overtook him, making it hard to breathe. Was the air alwaysso stale and thick here? Malakai had toured the prison many times but nevernoticed how dark it was. The cells were made of thick granite, without even atiny window to allow light to peek through. With some effort, he turned hishead upwards and regretted it immediately. Everything swam before his eyes, anda sharp pain made him retch, only to realize he had nothing left to vomit apartfrom his blood.

After hisbody stopped shaking from the shock, Malakai felt a strange emptiness insidehim; the warmth and comfort of his magic were barely there anymore. The panicthat rose through him was worse than the bile he tasted in his mouth. He triedhis best to calm himself, to convince himself that it could not be gone, formagic was made of prana: the life energy coursing through every living being.It had to be somewhere if he was here. But the more he searched, the more itbecame evident that it was dying.

And he wasdying with it.

Malakai’seyes blurred once more. Were they tears of sadness, knowing he had losteverything he held dear, or tears from the burning torment his body experiencedwith the slightest movement? He couldn’t tell them apart.

As hiseyes focused again, Malakai remembered there used to be a window in every cellonce upon a time. The first king of Castellon knew light was a beacon of hope;it kept the fight alive in people. His descendant, the current king, alsounderstood what it meant to the prisoners. So, five years ago, he ordered all thewindows to be boarded up. Malakai was the one who had supervised the projectand seen the dejected looks on their faces, caked with dirt and grime, yet henever fully comprehended. Until now.

Many ofthem were murderers, kidnappers, and swindlers, but there were others whocouldn’t pay the ever-increasing taxes; people who had no reason to be in theinfamous jail of Lasceraz.

Yet, theywere.

So was he.

“Get 'imto eat somethin’.” The metallic tinkle of keys alerted him as the room dooropened. A guard dressed in red and yellow placed a bowl of soup in front of himwhile another held a lantern in his hand. Malakai wondered how many days hadpassed since he was sent here and if Ciaran knew his fate yet. It was nocoincidence that he was incarcerated when each of his allies within the King’sKnights happened to be out of the capital.

“Threedays. You’ve eaten nothin’.” The guard brought a spoon with the soup near hismouth.

“Please!”the man nearly pleaded and added, “Yer Highness.”

The otherguard looked equally awkward. Malakai understood how disturbing it must be totreat the second prince of their kingdom as a mere prisoner—torn between theirabsolute loyalty to the orders issued by the king and their instinct to protecta member of the royal family. His older brother might be the ruler of Castellon(and he made sure to remind people of that constantly!), but Malakai was asoldier, first and foremost. He had spent time with guards, trained them, andinspected prisons as part of his duties, something the pampered king neverbothered himself with.

He openedhis mouth to let the guard feed him. Under no circumstance was he allowed to befree of his manacles. Such was the rule in Lasceraz, where every prisoner waskept in maximum-security solitary confinement. Sip by sip, he finished the bowlof soup, and the guards released simultaneous breaths of gratitude, likelybecause they had half-expected him to protest, or worse. Malakai didn’t want tomake it any harder on them than necessary, considering they would have a toughenough time when he escaped. His weak stomach rebelled despite his nobleintentions not to trouble the guards; a dull ache radiated from his core,spreading out like a volcano spewing lava, and Malakai keeled over in pain.

After theyhelped him throw up everything he had just ingested in the chamber pot, one ofthe guards tried to say something but couldn’t. Ignoring the grip of fatiguethreatening to suffocate him, Malakai smiled and said, “It’s not your fault.”He meant it, but they hung their heads in shame and left the room withoutchecking the chains, forgetting that they’d loosened the shackles slightly tolet him clean up earlier.

He didn’tdoubt that Ciaran would find a way to get him out of here.

But maybeMalakai could beat him to it.
***

Beingbeaten in a battle wasn’t something Ciaran ever worried about.

However,victory always comes with a price.

As he rode his tired horse away from Castle, thecapital city of Castellon, Ciaran had to admit that while he’d managed to getout of the palace in one piece, thankfully without killing any of them, ithadn’t been easy. Every hesitation, every indecision from one side was used bythe other. It was a wonder he’d made it this far.

About the Author: Mirai Amell is the pen name of a neuroscientist who believes in myths and magic as much as she trusts molecules and microscopes. When she is not doing science, or reading fantasy books, or watching anime, Mirai scribbles poems published in anthologies like From One Line Vol(s) 1-3, Wounds I Healed, and The Crow’s Quill magazine. 
Currently, Mirai lives in Seattle, where she researches various brain things.
https://twitter.com/AmellMirai
https://shadowsparkpub.com/mirai-amell
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/123013881