#IWSG: New projects

 

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Thanks to Alex for hosting this each month. Here is the complete list of participants.

The last few weeks of February were busy in a good way. I have a couple of things I’m working on kind of behind the scenes you could say. I’ll fill everyone in another time about them when I have news to share. You could say they are my secret projects. 🙂

Writing on all the projects are going great. A little frustrated about one of the stories and how to work in a new plot twist. It sounds good when I talk about it out loud but putting it to paper and the section I want it to go in does not.

Question for everyone. I’m thinking about starting a facebook group. My question is would it be a good idea to have both a group and an author page? I already have an author page. Should I just stick to it or think about creating the group too?

IWSG Question: Have you ever pulled out a really old story and reworked it? Did it work out?

I haven’t pulled out a really old story per say. What I did was to pull out a list of story ideas from a few years ago and look it over. I have set up files for three of them so I can start outlining them. One of them is possibly going to be posted here as a serial for the site. I just need to figure out how often I’ll post it and what the word count for each post will be.

That’s it for now. Look forward to your comments. 🙂

 

The Oracle by K.S. Marsden

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Blog Tour ~The Oracle
Author: K.S. Marsden
Genre: Fantasy
Tour Dates: 27th of Feb – 3rd of March
Hosted by: Ultimate Fantasy Book Tours

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Blurb:

After a brief respite, the Gardyn rebels have returned to fight the tyranny of King Hrafn and Prince David.

Samantha, Jillis and Tobias will have to find their place in the new vision of Enchena; but first, they have to risk everything to make it real.

New allies will rise, as the past plays a huge part in the future; and an Oracle must be brought, to guide them all.

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Review:

It was great book. I loved reading it and couldn’t put it down. The characters and world that have been created are great. It has great twists and turns that will keep readers turning the page to find out what happens next. It is definitely to add to your TBR list. I look forward to reading more of K.S.’s books.

↓Buy Links↓

Amazon.com https://www.amazon.com/Oracle-Enchena-Book-2-ebook/dp/B01NBE62P1

Author Bio:

Kelly Marsden grew up in Yorkshire, and there were two constants in her life – books and horses.
Graduating with an equine degree from Aberystwyth University, she has spent most of her life since trying to experience everything the horse world has to offer. She is currently settled into a Nutritionist role for a horse feed company in Doncaster, South Yorkshire.
She writes Fantasy stories part-time. Her first book, The Shadow Rises (Witch-Hunter #1), was published in January 2013, and she now has two successful series under her belt.

Visit her at:

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Dark Promise by Nikki Landis

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Blog Tour ~ Dark Promise
Author: Nikki Landis
Genre: Paranormal/Romance
Tour Dates: 27th of Feb – 3rd of March
Hosted by: Ultimate Fantasy Book Tours

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Blurb:

A love story between two people who live in two very different worlds; is it right to keep a promise when it hurts the one you love? Can the darkness survive in the light?

Mare’s life is in danger. An unknown enemy seeks to destroy her, only months after her mother’s brutal death. Andre stumbles upon her attack, saving her life, immediately drawn to the innocent beauty. Against all odds they seek to find the truth, all the while fighting their mutual attraction, until their passion can no longer be contained.

Mare latches onto Andre, attracted to his fierce determination to protect her. Andre’s dark promise, hidden in his heart, becomes his only objective. Can he save her in time? Or will he be lost, forever damned, in his pursuit to have her, at any cost?

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Review:

Great read. I couldn’t put it down. Love the characters and world that Nikki has created. It has some great twists and turns. Readers will be drawn into the story from the first page. It is definitely one to add to your TBR list. I look forward to reading more of Nikki’s books.

↓Buy Links↓

Amazon.com https://www.amazon.com/Dark-Promise-NightWalkers-Nikki-Landis-ebook/dp/B01IZ7VYBS/

Author Bio:

nikki-landis

Nikki Landis is the award winning author of over a dozen novels, mostly in the romance genre. She grew up sneaking her mother’s romance novels intrigued with the characters, the stories, and the historical settings from authors that have greatly influenced her writing like Johanna Lindsey, Kathleen E. Woodiwiss, and Bertrice Small.

She is also a fan of the classics and adores Jane Austen. Books like The Chronicles of Narnia, The Lord of the Rings, and The Hobbit have shaped and molded her vision of fantasy and inspired it, contributing to her popular series The Fight for Light novels.

Nikki holds two degrees, in Dietetics and Nutrition, and her Bachelor of Science in Health Promotion and Wellness. She’s a wife and mother, spending her free time reading, writing, and enjoying the outdoors.

Visit her at:

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Angelic Outcast by Jessie Wrights

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Blurb:

Artan never knew what to expect when he was called to service on Earth, but the sight of his future charge made him think this one wouldn’t be so bad, until he gets shot during his first meeting with Elizabeth Savante. Turns out she already has a protector, and he is none too pleased to find that Heaven has taken an interest in his partner.

Khris thought he was safe, his work with Liz kept him constantly moving and out of Heaven’s cross hairs. That is until an angel shows up, and tells him that a demon is after Liz. And to make matters worse Liz is completely psyched about it. Now he has a choice, he can stay and help protect the best thing that ever happened to him, or he can run before Heaven finds out what and where he is.

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Review:

It was a great read. I couldn’t put it down once I started reading. I love the characters that Jessie has created. It has some great twists and turns that will keep readers turning the page to find out what happens next. Readers who like books that involve angels and demons will want to add this one to their TBR list.

Links:

Pre-order: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06X6CXX3T/ On sale for .99 until release.

Event: https://www.facebook.com/events/515065818704405/

Website: www.jessiewrights.com

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

Street Team: https://www.facebook.com/groups/Jessie.Wrights.ST/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Jessie_Wrights

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jessiewrights/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15294572.Jessie_Wrights

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Jessie-Wrights/e/B01ENTAW8S/

Google: https://plus.google.com/u/0/104757077629025924352/posts

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/jessiewrights

ARC Request Form:
https://goo.gl/forms/6gDoYSVzaN5Wb2G22

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On Unfaithful Wings by Bruce Blake

ON UNFAITHFUL WINGS

Icarus Fell series, book 1
by Bruce Blake


Genre: Urban Fantasy
To some, death is the end; to others, a beginning. To Icarus Fell, it should have been a relief from a life gone seriously awry.
But death had other plans.
Icarus doesn’t believe that the man awaiting him when he wakes up in a cheap motel room is really the archangel Michael, or that God’s right hand wants him to help souls on their way to Heaven. Icarus doesn’t believe there’s a Heaven, so why should they want his help?
But the man claiming to be the archangel tempts him with an offer he can’t ignore–harvest enough souls and get back the life he wished he’d had.
It seems Icarus has nothing to lose, until he botches a harvest and the soul that went to Hell instead of Heaven comes back to make him pay by threatening to take away the life he hoped to win back.
To save the wife and son he already lost once, Icarus will have to become the man he never was. Somehow, he will have to learn to believe.

I stood with my back to the church, much the way I’d lived my life.
Rain poured down the eaves, splashing my shoes. Each drop pattering against the leather felt as though it landed directly on my mood. I tugged my suit jacket tighter and glanced at my watch—almost eleven p.m. If the rain didn’t let up soon, Trevor would be in bed, his belated birthday present another day late. After letting him down again, Rae probably wouldn’t let me give him the gift, anyway. A heavy sigh drew the taste of rain on dry soil into my lungs as I suppressed the desire to call her names in my head, to blame her for everything. It wasn’t her fault.
There I stood, spirit as dampened by the April shower as my clothing, thinking I waited for the rain to stop, not knowing it was something else I waited for, something entirely different.
My death.
I shifted again and the plastic Best Buy bag hidden under my jacket to keep it dry slipped out and hit the stairs with a splash.
“Damn it.”
I stooped to retrieve the bag, feeling unremorseful for swearing outside a house of worship. There was no God to hear anyway and—with the Pope dry in the Vatican—who’d be offended? A plump drop of rain punished my Godly disdain with a direct hit to my left eye as I fetched my son’s gift from the top step.
I suspected the rain might not let up any time soon.
It probably couldn’t have happened any differently. Do we have any choice in what we do, or is it all pre-planned? I used to believe we did, but my beliefs—or lack of them—were about to be thrown into question, along with my opinion of what happens after we die.
I stepped back and shook moisture from the bag impatiently. It had been half an hour since the unexpected downpour began, its torrent catching me unprepared and forcing me from my planned path—to sneak Trevor his birthday present without Rae noticing me—to my current hiding spot at the church. This church of all churches.
See what I mean about choice?
If the rain wasn’t going to let up, I’d just have to get wet. I stepped from under the pathetic cover of the church’s eaves and my foot splashed in an unseen puddle, cold water soaking the Wal-Mart loafer on my left foot. Raindrops pelted my cheek and I bit back another curse as I jammed the Xbox game purchased for Trevor’s birthday into the pocket of my suit jacket and pulled the coat over my head. I felt like an idiot as my saturated footwear slurped with each step down the concrete path.
Halfway across the churchyard, I noticed two men blocking the path ahead. They wore jackets with hoods pulled up to hide their faces, keep the rain from their heads. At first glimpse, the sheets of rain gave them a ghostly quality, a glow, and made me doubt my eyes. My gaze flickered sideways to the graveyard beside the church, with its broken, moss-covered headstones canted at odd angles, but I quickly dismissed the thought. A trick of rain and poor light.
There’s no such thing as ghosts.

I slowed, wondering if the men could be avoided. Probably not. Living in the city my entire life taught me to be wary of men hanging out on the streets at night with their faces hidden. But this wasn’t the streets, it was a churchyard, and rain this heavy gave good reason to use a hood. Maybe they’d come for a little midnight prayer, eager for the best pew in the house.
Right.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” I ventured drawing closer to them. “Beautiful night, isn’t it?”
Apparently they didn’t think so. The man nearest me pulled a knife from under his forest-green rain slicker and jabbed it toward me, stabbing the rain between us. Hell of a reaction.
He could’ve just said ‘no’.
“Give me your money,” he growled.
I know you’re supposed to do what a mugger says: it’s your best shot at survival, but I didn’t. Maybe the rain made me hesitate, or the wetness in my shoes, or knowing the boy would be disappointed again; whichever, my brain wouldn’t let my body do what it knew it should. I stood taller than either of them, but they had the knife. All I had on them was fifteen years of poor eating and neglect.
“C’mon guys. It’s a crummy night and I’m two weeks late for my boy’s birthday. Let a guy be, will you? There must be some little old ladies running around practically begging to have their social security cheques stolen.”
“Shut up and give us your money, asshole.”
The man holding the knife remained in front of me as the other circled to my right, presumably to hinder any escape. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, saw rain bouncing off his gray raincoat, noticed that his runners didn’t match, but he quickly passed from view, blocked by the jacket held foolishly over my head, keeping my hair dry in case they killed me. Cool rain peppered my face as I dropped the coat back onto my shoulders and reached to pull my wallet from the inner pocket. The man with the knife lunged forward, brandishing the blade at my nose. My stomach jumped into my chest and I threw both hands up in the air like a good mugging victim.
“Whoa. You want my money, you need my wallet.”
The tip of the knife waggled in the air, gesturing for me to continue. I stared at the point of the blade, at the man’s fingerless glove and the way he’d chewed his fingers until they looked painful. Beyond his arm, I thought I saw a smile hidden in the darkness beneath the hood.
I sighed, a shuddering breath lamenting how little my wallet contained for them to steal as much as it did the fact they were stealing it. The man behind me snatched it away before it cleared my pocket, his nails raking my wrist, and rifled through the meager contents. He snatched the three bills it contained, made a face at the fifteen bucks, and then took the VISA card I’d fought so hard to get after ruining my credit a few years back. Joke’s on him if he uses it, they’ll probably ask for a payment first.
He showed the sparse loot to his partner.
“Fifteen bucks? That’s it?”
“Look at this.” He’d dug out my driver’s licence. I knew this would happen. “The guy’s name is Icarus Fell. Icarus, like in the Iron Maiden song”
“Yeah,” I said. “The guy who named me didn’t like me much. Call me Ric.”
“Sure, Icarus,” the guy holding the knife said in a schoolyard-bully lilt. With a name like Icarus Fell, I’d heard that tone enough to recognize it. He stepped toward me, blade extended to within an inch of my face. I wanted to take an equal step away, but knew his partner wouldn’t like that, so I stood my ground, hoping to look more brave than stupid. “What else you got?”
“Nothing. That’s it.”
“Check his pockets. He put something in his pocket.”
The man tossed my wallet onto the grass where it landed with a mucky-sounding splat. He advanced on me and this time I moved. He grabbed my arm, pulled me toward him.
“Don’t do nothing stupid.”
Why didn’t he tell me that twenty-five or thirty years ago?
He patted my pants pockets first—the most action I’d seen in a while—then moved to the pockets of my suit jacket; the right hand outer one produced a hollow, plasticky thud. I cringed.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing,” I said inching away. “A game for my kid.”
“Give it up.”
“Guys, really. What are you going to do with a video game?”
His fingers dug into my bicep. “Give it to me.”
“I already missed his birthday. Can’t you let me keep it?” I yanked against his grip knowing I shouldn’t—people got killed for less—but I couldn’t let Trevor down. Not again. “Take everything else. I won’t tell anyone.”
“There is nothing else. Give it to me,” the knife-wielder demanded.
I wondered what Rae would tell Trevor when he didn’t get a present from me again. Probably that, since someone else was his ‘real’ father, I didn’t care.
Adrenaline flooded my brain, but it didn’t heighten my senses the way they describe in books. Instead, it made me stupid. Before I realized what I was doing, I swung at the man holding my arm, my fist contacting his nose with a satisfying crunch. The move surprised both of us and he lifted his hands to his face.
It took a second to comprehend that he’d let me go. My heartbeat quickened, pulsed in my ears. I ran, or attempted to: dress shoes aren’t made for sprinting on wet grass. Both men jumped me before I got going, riding me to the ground like they were the cowboys and I was the calf. A knee pressed into my back, an elbow in my ear as my cheek sank into soggy lawn knocking breath from my lungs and hope from my heart. My clothes soaked instantly, plastering cloth to skin, the smell of wet earth filled my nose, literally.
“You stupid bastard,” one of them said, but the mud in one ear and elbow in the other precluded me from identifying which one. “Couldn’t give us the stupid game, could you?” He yanked it out of my pocket.
The pain of the knife’s tip pushing through the flesh of my lower back into my kidney hurt more than I could ever have imagined. The shock of it made me suck a mixture of cold air and dirty rain water through taut lips and expel it all in an agonized howl. The knife rose and fell again, then again, perforating my internal organs, each stab more painful than the last. Each time it pulled free, I prayed to a God I didn’t believe in that it would end, that I would get up and hurry on my way to see Trevor.
My body jerked and spasmed beneath the men straddling me, my bladder let go. After the fourth time the knife entered me, my flesh went numb. It may have pierced me a few more times, but I lost interest in counting. I gasped air in through my mouth and the breath tasted like the black crud scraped off bread left too long in the toaster. And blood.
“That’s enough. Let’s go,” one of them said, presumably the one not engaged in shredding my bowels.
Their weight lifted off my back and my mind told me to roll over and sit up, defend against further attack, but my muscles would have nothing of such a proposal, so I lay on the wet grass doing the only thing I could: bleed. Maybe I wept a little, too, but who can tell in the rain?
“I guess Icarus really did fall, didn’t he, Ric?”
Their laughter didn’t sting nearly as much as the knife, and it dissipated much more quickly as they ran off. I was used to being teased but couldn’t say the same of being knifed. After they left, my ragged breathing and the sound of rain pattering around and on me became my world. I never realized how much noise rain hitting grass made until my ear was pressed to the ground with no choice but to listen.
My stomach knotted as the gravity of my situation set in: after eleven on a Wednesday night, bleeding on the lawn outside an empty church in the kind of downpour that convinced people not to venture out for a chat with God.
Did I mention I was bleeding? A lot?
Water pooled in my ear canal until the unnaturally loud plop of rain drops splashing into the tiny pond drowned out even the sound of my breath. Not steady, metronomic drips like I imagined a water torture would be, but an uneven patter that, should I live long enough, would likely prove equally effective at driving me crazy.
“Help.”
In my head, the single word came out a scream, shaking trees and rattling windows, attracting the attention needed to save me so I could see my son again, even if it was for the last time. In reality, it was more of a peep. I closed my eyes and sucked dirty water through my nose then coughed it out my mouth. The pain it induced in my back and side hurt worse than the original stabbing, like someone stood over me with a hot poker pressed to my side, except I was cold and wet and bleeding to death, too. A hot poker didn’t sound so bad.
“Help,” I peeped.
ALL WHO WANDER ARE LOST
If we’re good, we go to Heaven; if we’re bad we go to Hell. No one wants to go to Hell.
Except one man who wishes people would just remember to call him Ric.
In the aftermath of a serial killer’s murderous spree, souls who didn’t deserve damnation went to Hell. The archangel Michael doesn’t seem concerned, but Icarus Fell can’t bear the guilt of knowing it’s his fault they ended up there.
But how can he save them when the archangel forbids him from going and his guardian angel refuses to help?
The answer comes in the form of another beautiful, bewitching guardian angel who offers to be his guide. They travel to Hell to rescue the unjustly damned one by one, but salvation comes at a cost and the economy of Hell demands souls.
Is it a price Icarus is willing to pay?
Bruce Blake lives on Vancouver Island in British Columbia, Canada. When pressing issues like shovelling snow and building igloos don’t take up his spare time, Bruce can be found taking the dog sled to the nearest coffee shop to work on his short stories and novels.
Actually, Victoria, B.C. is only a couple hours north of Seattle, Wash., where more rain is seen than snow. Since snow isn’t really a pressing issue, Bruce spends more time trying to remember to leave the “u” out of words like “colour” and “neighbour” than he does shovelling (and watch out for those pesky double l’s). The father of two, Bruce is also the trophy husband of a burlesque diva.
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Cover Reveal: Shattered Fates by Rebecca Roland

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SHATTERED FATES
(Shards of History #3)
By Rebecca Roland
World Weaver Press has announced Shattered Fates, the
final installment in the Shards of History trilogy by Rebecca Roland, will be released May 23, 2017.
Shattered Fates follows a tribal woman trying to protect her people from a dangerous colonizer, and
the wife of the colonizers’ leader, who begins a revolution from within.
The magic barrier protecting the Taakwa from their enemies, the Maddion, is gone. Malia, who led the
Taakwa against the Maddion in the Dragon War, must convince the magical being, the changer, to repair
the barrier before the Maddion invade to take revenge on her people and the winged Jeguduns who also
call the valley home, even if it means reversing the healing the changer wrought for her.
Chanwa, the wife of the Maddion leader, uses the disorder created by the changer to lead a coup against
her husband in a desperate attempt to ensure she and the other Maddion women are treated as equals.
Her life, and the future of every Maddion woman, depends on her success.
Both women know the only way to succeed is to come together in an unlikely alliance.

Goodreads | World Weaver Press

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Praise for the SHARDS OF HISTORY series:
“Shards of History and its sequel, Fractured Days, are
terrifically entertaining reads from beginning to end
clearly establishing and demonstrating author Rebecca
Roland’s consummate skills as an original and
entertaining storyteller that will leave her enthusiastic
readers looking forward to more novels featuring Malia
and her world. Very highly recommended as enduringly
popular addition to community library Fantasy Fiction
collections.”
— Midwest Book Review
“Fast-paced, high-stakes drama in a fresh fantasy world!”
— James Maxey, author of the
Dragon Age trilogy.
“One of the most beautifully written novels I have ever
read. Suspenseful, entrapping, and simply … well, let’s
just say that Shards of History reminds us of why we love
books in the first place. 5 out of 5 stars!”
— Good Choice Reading
“A passionate tale that will engage both young adults and
more weathered fantasy readers.”
— NewMyths.com

Purchase Links:
Shattered Fates will be available in trade paperback and ebook via Amazon.com, Barnesandnoble.com,
Kobo, World Weaver Press, and other online retailers, and for wholesale through Ingram.
Rebecca Roland is the author of the Shards of History series, The Necromancer’s Inheritance series,
and The King of Ash and Bones, and Other Stories. Her short fiction has appeared in publications such as
Nature, Fantastic Stories of the Imagination, Stupefying Stories, Plasma Frequency, and Every Day
Fiction, and she is a graduate of the Odyssey Writing Workshop. You can find out more about her and her
work at rebeccaroland.net, her blog Spice of Life, or follow her on Twitter @rebecca_roland.
World Weaver Press is an independently owned publisher of fantasy, paranormal, and science fiction.
We believe in great storytelling.
Publication Date: May 23, 2017 • Fantasy
$13.95 trade paperback, 292 pages • $4.99 ebook
ISBN-13: 978-0997788884
Publicity/Reviews: publicity@worldweaverpress.com
Information:
http://www.worldweaverpress.com/store/p128/Shattered_Fates_%28Shards_of_History_%233%29.html
# # # # #
worldweaverpress.com
@WorldWeaver_wwp

Flame by A.K. Morgen

I’m very excited to announce that the long awaited (and much anticipated!) third book of the Amazon Bestselling RAGNAROK PROPHESIES series has finally arrived! Join Arionna Jacobs and Dace Matthews as they race to stop the apocalypse in this intense and emotional series by A.K. Morgen.


Read on below for all the details, including a giveaway!

 


SUMMARY


Who do you trust when betrayal threatens to destroy everything you hold dear?

When Arionna Jacobs fled town in a desperate bid to save Dace Matthews, she never expected the chaos she would leave in her wake. Now her closest friend is dead, and another is missing, forcing Ari to return to face the devastating consequences of her actions and the broken boy she left behind.

Her problems are only just beginning.

Even as her bond with Dace grows stronger, Arionna finds herself weakening when Freki’s cage shatters. Fighting the wolf for control is tearing her apart piece by piece. And at every turn, she finds that those she’s put her faith in aren’t who they seem, bringing her face to face with Sköll and Hati. As the depth of their betrayal is revealed, Freki spirals out of control, and Arionna must face her greatest fear: losing herself to the fierce wolf within.

The world balances on the edge of a blade, and one wrong move will destroy it all.

With few allies she can trust and little choice left, Arionna must decide between the lives of her friends and her own future with the alpha she loves. Will she be able to stand firm for the sake of the world, or will she falter in the face of defeat? 



BOOK LINKS:


AMAZON | GOODREADS | BARNES AND NOBLE 



EXCERPT

 

“Arionna, dammit, wake up.”

 

Unseen hands gripped my upper arms, shaking me. A familiar voice called my name over and over. Furious howls ripped through the air.

 

None of those sounds made sense to me.

 

I felt different, like I’d been taken apart and put back together in the wrong order. Everything hurt. My body ached, muscles locked tight in protest. My head throbbed. Each painful pulse rattled against my skull, sending ripples down my neck and into my back.

 

I groaned and rolled onto my side.

 

The hands shaking me relaxed.

 

I fought to open my eyes, then blinked, confused. Worn brown carpet scratched against the side of my face. The bottom edge of a pale blue bed-sham fluttered inches from me. Dust bunnies and small pieces of plastic were strewn beneath the sagging bed. A table and two chairs were grouped on the other side. A crack ran up the leg of one chair, splitting the wood.

 

None of the room looked familiar.

 

Where am I?

 

The voice calling my name stopped mid-shout and sighed.

Oh, thank god, he said.

 

For what? I wondered, marveling that the words came from inside my mind, but didn’t belong to me. How was that possible?

 

I couldn’t place the soft, silky tones either, but they made my stomach flip and my heart flutter. I knew the speaker. At least I thought I did. Before I could ask him who he was or how he spoke in my head, someone blew out a sharp breath. This time, the sound didn’t come from inside.

“Finally,” that second voice said.

 

Nope. Definitely not coming from my mind.

 

I rolled my eyes toward the relieved sound, and then frowned at the guy leaning over me. Long, dark hair hung in his face. His eyes were black, and full of concern. His features were sharp, severe, but handsome.

 

This time I was certain; I knew this guy.

 

“Ronan,” I said. His name was Ronan LaCrosse, and mine was… Arionna. Yes, Arionna Jacobs. Memory began to slowly trickle back in. We were at a motel in Illinois, looking for someone. And the howls were coming from Fuki, the little wolf we’d brought with us, though I couldn’t see him.

 

Where was he?

 

I tried to figure out why I was on the floor, but came up with a big blank.

 

“What happened?” I asked, looking up at Ronan.

 

He held out a hand for me, then pulled me into a sitting position.

 

The room tilted before straightening again. I clutched my head in my hands, groaning. When the initial wave of nausea passed, I tilted my head up slowly so I could see Ronan. “Did I hit my head?” I asked, trying to blink away the dark spots floating in my peripheral.

 

“You don’t remember?” He narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to the side like a raven assessing me.

 

I scooted back against the edge of the bed, frowning.

 

What was I supposed to remember?
 

 

GIVEAWAY

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

A.K. Morgen is the Amazon Bestselling author of the Ragnarök
Prophesies series. She lives in the heart of Arkansas with her childhood
sweetheart/husband of thirteen years, and their six furry minions. When not
writing, she spends her time hiking, reading, volunteering, causing mischief,
and building a Spork army. Ayden graduated summa
cum laude
with her Bachelor of Science degree in Criminal Justice and
Forensic Psychology in 2009 before going on to complete her graduate degree in
CJ and Law. She currently puts her education to use in the social services and
CJ field. 

Ayden also writes New Adult and contemporary romance under the penname Ayden K.
Morgen.

You can find her on 
Twitter, Facebook, or via her website at http://akmorgen.com.