Tag: New Release

New Release ~ Bourbon Love Notes ~ by ~ Shari J. Ryan

 

 

Title: Bourbon Love Notes
Series: Barrel House #1
Author: Shari J. Ryan
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: January 13, 2020

 

Blurb
In a split second, life can steal a last breath … and
derail all future plans.
While flying home after a phone call that left me
heartbroken, a row to myself would have been ideal. Instead, I was unknowingly
sitting shoulder to shoulder with a strikingly attractive single dad and
ex-Marine. I could have pretended not to notice the man, but there was
something familiar about him.
It didn’t take long before I pieced together where I knew
him from or why he was back in my life.
With chaos holding me hostage, I wanted to hide but couldn’t
avoid Brett Pearson, our old family friend, and my teenage crush, because he
kindly offered to help out with my family’s business—The Barrel House.
Handling my father’s distillery would be a distraction from
my brutal reality. Except, I never paid close attention to the art of making
bourbon, unlike Brett, who was full of bourbon knowledge. He offered to teach
me a thing or two, but all I could focus on was the way his lips moved when he
spoke to me.
I needed to grieve, and my head was in the wrong place at
the wrong time, but my heart was splitting at the seams.
Bourbon was spilled, drinks were shared, but could passion
ignite from a dying last wish?

 

 
 
Purchase Links
 
$3.99 for a limited time!
 
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited

Excerpt
Copyright 2019 –
Shari J. Ryan
 
How can Dad be
thinking about so much when he doesn’t know if there will be a tomorrow? I
can’t believe he already hired someone to run the business. I can’t pretend
like I ever had intentions of taking over the shop, even knowing Dad wouldn’t
be able to run it forever, but the thought hadn’t crossed my mind because Dad
is supposed to live well past his retirement age. Nothing has gone as I have
planned since I graduated college, and while I have traveled along with the
bumps in the road, everything feels like it’s crashing down on me now. 
Maybe I have no
business being in The Barrel House, pretending like I know everything there is
to know about running a bourbon distillery. 
“Melody!” It’s
Brett. He’s calling after me. Doesn’t he know when a woman runs out a door,
it’s probably best not to follow her?
I turn back toward
the firehouse, watching him walk toward me. My instinct forces me to take a
step back, which causes me to trip off the curb. I catch myself on a car,
thankfully, but the car’s alarm beeps at me just to add an extra dose of
humiliation to this moment.
My heart is in my
throat, or maybe it’s my stomach. My head is spinning and … why did he have
to come after me?
“I need to get back
home. I should be with my dad,” I tell him, looking both ways to make sure I
don’t get creamed by a car on top of it all. The coast is clear and I cross the
street, finding my way to Mom’s car. 
“Wait up for a
second,” Brett continues, following me across the street. He places his hand on
the door, preventing me from opening it and jumping inside. “Your dad wanted a
bottle,” he says, handing me the bottle of Red Apple that Dad did, in fact,
request. 
“How did you—” 
“He called to warn
me that you were on your way down, flustered, upset, trying to be a hero, and
you’d most likely forget that he requested a bottle of Red Apple.” Brett laughs
sweetly, smiling benevolently. “I’m not trying to take over your family
business, despite what you might be thinking. My dad has been a barrel supplier
for your dad since before either of us were born. I was just asked to come help
you guys out.” 
“I know.” In truth,
I don’t understand much of anything now. I’ve been going a mile a minute since
I got that letter yesterday. I’ve been awake since five this morning, and I’m
exhausted. “Thank you for coming to help,” I offer sincerely, wishing he would
move his hand from my door. 
“I’m sorry for what
you’re going through. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.” The look in Brett’s eyes
triggers more pain in my stomach. I’m losing my dad. 
“I don’t know what
else to do right now other than help him, and being in his shop feels like the
only way I can help,” I explain. 
The backs of my eyes
burn. I’m supposed to be the strong one, but I’m falling apart. I stare up to
the sky, waning away the threatening tears. Keep it together, Melody. My
body doesn’t respond to my command. Tears trickle, one by one and I gasp for
air as my lungs feel like they are deflating. I place my hands over my face,
embarrassed to be crying in front of Brett Pearson of all people, but the pain
has been building, and though I let a few tears escape this morning at the
airport, it clearly wasn’t enough. “I’m sorry,” I mutter. 
Arms envelop me and
my head falls against his firm chest. His embrace is tight and though I don’t know
the adult version of Brett well enough to feel comfort from a hug, the squeeze
is alleviating some of the pressure in my chest. 
The rate of my
breaths slow and I’m able to stop the tears from falling. Brett must notice
that I’ve calmed down because his arms release from around me and he takes a
step back. I don’t know what else to say or do aside from searching his
worry-filled eyes as if I’d find the answer there. 
He presses the pad
of his thumb beneath my eye and sweeps away a remaining tear. “Take some time
to process it all,” Brett says, sounding wise beyond his years. “I don’t know
how long you’ve known about your Dad becoming sick again, but I doubt there’s
any length of time that’s long enough to accept or adjust to that kind of news.”
“I’m going to—” I
point to the car.
Brett backs away,
slipping his hands into his back pockets. I close myself into the car, rest my
head back, and close my eyes for a minute before starting the engine. 
A knock on the
window startles my eyes to reopen. Brett is standing outside of the car holding
up the bottle of Red Apple. I roll the window down and retrieve the bottle.
“Thank you,” I tell him. “For everything.” 
Coming Soon
Releasing April 2
$3.99 for a limited time!
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
Author Bio
Shari J. Ryan is
an International Bestselling Author of Contemporary Romance and Women’s
Fiction. 
She lives in
Massachusetts with her husband and two young sons.  Shari started her career as a graphic artist
and freelance writer, then found her passion for writing books back in 2011.
She has been slaying words and creating imaginary friends ever since.
With over 125k
books sold, Shari’s books have hit Amazon’s Top 100 bestseller list, Barnes
& Noble’s Top 10, and iBooks at #1.
Some of Shari’s bestselling books include Last Words, The Other Blue
Sky, A Heart of Time, and Man Flu from the Man Cave Collection.
Author Links

 

New Release ~ Escape You ~ by ~ Diana A. Hicks

One night changes everything…
Escape You by Diana A. Hicks is now live!
#secretbaby #mafiaromance #kindleunlimited

Amazon — https://amzn.to/2EPC5yl
Universal — getbook.at/EscapeYouDH
FREE with Kindle Unlimited

One night changes everything…

ATF agent Tyler Cole finally gets the break he’s been waiting for— a big NYC mob case. He just never expected for things to get this complicated.

Before he went undercover he spends an unforgettable night with a mysterious woman.
When they meet again, she’s his prime suspect, pregnant with his baby and about to be married.

Tyler should be trying to put Mia and her crew behind bars— but his desire is blurring the lines between right and wrong.

Mafia boss Mia Torelli learned the hard way that things aren’t always what they seem. She never planned on having a one night stand… with the enemy.

No names. No rules. No regrets.
Her passion filled night with a stranger raised the stakes in a very dangerous game.

Determined to make sure her Family survives the devastating loss of their boss, she must prove herself when she steps up as the new leader.

Mia must protect her secret at all costs, but an underground faction has other plans for her… and Tyler.

Note: This is a steamy romance with explicit sensual scenes, happily ever after, no cheating, and no cliffhanger. Can be read as a standalone.

Don’t miss out on this suspenseful and seductive series!

Unravel You, Book 1 (Derek and Valentina) – OUT NOW! https://amzn.to/2Kj35Jn
Provoke You, Book 2 (Matt and Ela) – OUT NOW! https://amzn.to/2rnkutX


EXCERPT

Allie offered me a warm smile until her gaze moved from mine to someone behind me. Then she beamed as if she’d just had the come of her life. I glanced over my shoulder and saw him. Or did I? I looked again. Shit. I did a double take on a stranger. I covered the side of my face and concentrated on my drink. Honestly, I’d been dealing with man-children all week. I didn’t need this at my oasis too.

In my peripheral vision, long fingers braced the edge of the counter. A voice something like warm honey ordered a bourbon neat. Had I seen that face right? I had a feeling I knew him, but at the same time I was sure he wasn’t from around here. I knew everyone in town. A guy like that stood out. Allie poured his drink, biting her bottom lip, which looked very creepy because she couldn’t stop smiling.

“Thank you.” The guy sat and took a long swig of his drink. He raked a hand through his hair. A few dark tresses rebelled and fell back on his cheek.

“As much as I hate to say this”—Allie leaned on the bar—“it’s last call.”

I’d seen that look on her face many times. She was taking this guy home. A part of me wished I could do the same. But my old life, my freedom, all that was gone. Or it needed to be gone. As Uncle Mickey used to say, love would get you killed. In the end, greed got him killed, but I still thought there was truth in his words. Not that I was planning on falling for this guy who I’d seen a total of two seconds. Thing was, I couldn’t fall for anyone at all, or they’d end up dead, like Mom.

I knew being the lady boss would take some adjusting. Backing down wasn’t an option for me. If that meant I couldn’t take a gorgeous guy home with me, so be it. I could be like Queen Elizabeth I and swear off men. Sipping my drink, I settled in my barstool to watch Allie flirt and work her thing on this guy.

“No problem. I’ll cash out.” He stood and dug into the front pocket of his dark pants. Dark dress shirt, dark hair, dark stubble on a chiseled jaw, and steel blue eyes. Dammit, why did I look?

Don’t smile.

He smiled at me — all straight, white teeth, and full lips. “Would you put her drink on my tab?”

“No, thanks. I can pay for my own alcohol.”

He put up his hands and flashed me a grin. “Okay, no drinks.”

His gaze met mine, and I pulled another newbie mistake. I looked. I tried not to, but my eyes dropped to the pecs showing just above the first button of his shirt.

Allie placed a couple of dirty glasses in the dishwasher behind the bar, then took off her apron. She poured me another cocktail and winked.

His deep voice boomed a barstool away as he leaned toward Allie. “How come she gets another drink and I don’t?”

“She works here, honey.” Allie surveyed his face. After several beats, she shook her head and served him another bourbon. “On the house.”

She stalked around the counter and hugged me. “I’m taking one for the team today. He’s all yours. Don’t ever say I don’t get you shit.”

I barked out a laugh. “I’m good. I was gonna go home anyway.”

“You have the key.” She raised an eyebrow and pressed her lips to my ear. “Lock the door behind you.”

“That wasn’t the point for giving me access,” I called after her.

“It is tonight.” With a quick wave and sigh directed at the stranger, who looked as confused as I was, she went out the front door.

My body jerked when I glanced around the bar. We were alone. How’d that happen? I had to get out of here. The last thing I needed was a new friend. New friends came with a bunch of complications. I had plenty of those. I had a crew to run, and no time for beautiful strangers.

“I have to walk you out.” I gestured for him to leave the bar.

“You’re not even going to ask my name?” He stood, and his tall frame oozed confidence and something else I recognized as danger.

“Nope.”

“What’s your name?”

I shook my head. On a normal day, I’d give him my name, flirt, or maybe I’d check to see if that chest was as muscled as it looked. But my life was on south of normal these days. Think Queen Elizabeth I.

“Okay. No names.” He glared at the front door, then turned his attention to me. “I had a rough day, week, if I’m being honest. Would you mind if I finished my bourbon?”

I glanced back at the bar. We both had fresh drinks. “I suppose that’s harmless enough.”

“Thanks.”

We sat in silence, sipping from our glasses. My gaze darted over to him every time he moved, when his finger tapped on the counter, when he licked his lips, when his legs slid down the stool until his feet were fully planted on the wooden floor.

“What happened to you? Female problems or work stuff?”

He shifted toward me, and I did the same. “So talking about work problems is safe, but not names.”

“Something like that.” I should have left ten minutes ago.

“Work stuff. I got passed over for a job I wanted.” He shrugged as if it didn’t sting anymore, though the gloom that lingered in his blue eyes said otherwise. That was something I could relate to. Someone literally had to die for me to get the job I wanted.

“And you?” he asked.

“What about me?”

“The way you’re clinging to that drink suggests you also had a hell of a day. Week?”

I raised my hand. “Week.”

He offered me a kind smile. “Want to talk about it?”

I did my best not to melt off my seat. “I got the job I wanted last week. But my subordinates seem to be on a mission to see me fail.” I attempted a smirk, but it quickly turned into a frown. That was the crux of it. My own people, my family, wanted to see me fail. Or rather, they wanted to see me not try at all.

“I’m sorry to hear that. People can be assholes sometimes.”

“I say cheers to that.” I tapped his glass with mine, and we both drank.

My gut told me this was a bad idea. Not listening to my gut was also a bad idea. I braced my hands on the bar and pushed myself off the stool. He watched me with expectant eyes, as if he wanted me to leave.

I went for honesty. “Bad timing.”

He nodded, sucking air through his teeth. “Same. Otherwise, I would beg you to stay.”

The electric shock his words infused through my body set me right. I walked backward several steps, and he advanced a single one. Technically, I was walking him out, but his slow gait felt more as if he were chasing me out the door.

About the Author:

Diana A. Hicks is an award-winning author of steamy contemporary romance and science fiction. Her latest release LOVE OVER LATTES, Book 1 in her Desert Monsoon Series, recently hit the Amazon #1 Best Seller list in a category!

When Diana is not writing, she enjoys kickboxing, traveling, and indulging in the simple joys of life like wine and chocolate. She lives in Atlanta, and loves spending time with her two children and husband.

Connect with Diana!

Facebook — https://www.facebook.com/DianaHicksAuthor/
Instagram — https://www.instagram.com/DianaHicksauthor/
Website — https://dianahicksbooks.com/
Facebook Group — https://www.facebook.com/groups/DianaSexyReaders/
Bookbub — https://www.bookbub.com/profile/diana-a-hicks

New Release ~ Mantrum ~ by ~ Jacob Chance

Title: MANTRUM
Author: Jacob Chance
Genre: Romantic Comedy Standalone
Release Date: January 10, 2020 Cover Design: Sybil Wilson/Popkitty Design
Mantrum: An emotional outburst or an expression of anger by an adult man.
I’ve never understood the attraction women have for an alpha male, until I meet single father, Rex Winters.
Tall, chiseled, and persistent, he tries to avoid a parking ticket by asking me out to dinner. But I know men like him. He’s a repeat offender–habitually getting into trouble and always ready to sweet talk his way out of it.
But his charm won’t work on me.
Not when he’s the reason I’m forced to attend a six-week anger management class. And especially not when I find out all six feet two inches of Rex and his two hundred pounds of sexy muscle will be joining me every single time.
It doesn’t matter how much he flirts, or how attracted to him I am. I’m the girl who enforces rules for a living and he’s the guy who breaks them.
Do opposites really attract?
I guess we’re about to find out.
Jacob Chance grew up in New England and still lives there today. He’s a martial artist, a football fan, a practical joker and junk food lover.
A writer of sports romcoms and romantic suspense, he plans on providing you with many more stories.
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New Release ~ Regretting Gabriel ~ by ~ Anna Brooks




Title: Regretting Gabriel
Series: Reason to Ruin #2
Author: Anna Brooks
Genre: Angsty Rockstar Romance
Release Date: January 9, 2020



Blurb

He was the bad boy of rock-n-roll; cocky, short-tempered, and the sexiest man I’d ever seen. I was just a librarian in a small town. He had no clue who I was, but I knew everything about him. After all, he was the reason I moved across the country.

I never thought he’d know my name, let alone whisper it while he held me tight and made me forget about the agony of my past. He was my protector, my reason, my calm before the storm… but nothing good lasts forever, and Gabriel Hunter was no exception. 







Purchase Links

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited





Excerpt

My heart has held a place for him since I was fifteen years old. I never thought I’d actually be friends with him, let alone friends who held hands.
When we get to the library, I unfortunately have to unclasp our fingers so I can get my keys and open the door. I turn to tell him thank you when he pushes the door open and motions for me to precede him. “Ga—”
“Go.” He interrupts me, and instead of arguing, I go in and turn on the lights. After I set my purse beneath my desk, I stand fully and twitch at the shock of seeing him so close. “I’m gonna take off. You done at six?”
“You don’t need to wa—”
“Cady, baby, I don’t do anything I don’t want to. So stop telling me what I don’t need when I know exactly what I want.”
My breath freezes in my throat at the implication.
“So I’ll ask again, are you off at six?”
Unable to form a sentence, I simply nod.
And then he leans forward, just slightly, and I jump when his hand slides through my hair and his fingers cradle my head. His lips ever so gently brush against my cheek, and he glides his hand out of my hair, down my neck, and halfway over my collarbone before he lifts it again and cups my jaw, then runs his thumb across my lower lip. “Later, sugar.”






Also Available


AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited



Author Bio

The first time Anna tried to read a romance novel, her hair caught on fire when she leaned over a candle to sneak a peek at her mom’s Harlequin. She thinks being hit on the head with a shirtless Fabio until the smoke cleared is what sparked the flame for her love of romance.

Anna was born in Wisconsin, but currently lives in Texas with her husband and two boys. She writes sexy romance that always has a happy ending and loves bringing characters back for cameos. Less than six degrees of separation connects any of her novels.

When she’s not writing or reading, she’s watching reruns of her favorite romcoms, talking to her dog and cat like they’re human, eating carbs, or practicing hand lettering.

She loves to hear from readers and can be found on social media as @annabrooksauth everywhere.


Author Links


New Release ~ Aaron’s Heart ~ by ~ Mel Walker

Title: Aaron’s Heart
Series: Lake Hope Series: Book Two
Author: Mel Walker
Genre: Contemporary Small Town Romance
Release Date: January 9, 2020

Rules of the heart are made to be broken.
 
Hungering for a life of adventure, when Aaron Parker fled his sleepy hometown of Destiny Falls, he vowed to never look back. In his decade spent on the road, he hasn’t regretted that decision once. He has found joy in every aspect of his life… except love.
 
If her past has taught Mia Marshall anything, it’s that long-distance relationships never work. After having her heartbroken time and again, she made one simple rule to prevent herself from falling in that same trap again. No long-distance relationships. If she’s meant to find love, it will be in her hometown of Destiny Falls… or not at all.
 
When Aaron makes a trip home for his Dad’s retirement party, he finds himself drawn to Mia at first glance. But what chance does a man devoted to the road have with a headstrong woman whose been burned by her past?
 
Which will break first, her rule or his heart?

Mel writes Romance and Contemporary Fiction with Heart, specializing in both short fiction and full-length novels. A native New Yorker and life-long frustrated NY Mets fan.
a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

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New Release ~ Crush ~ by ~ Mae Wood

The only thing headier than wine is lust. Escape to California’s wine country in Crush by Mae Wood… it’s AVAILABLE NOW!!

Or read for FREE with #KindleUnlimited!!!

BLURB:

The only thing headier than wine is lust. Ryan Royer thought his business trip to California’s Napa Valley would be easy. Land a new client. Taste wine. But when the client is a free-spirited bombshell who presses all of his buttons, Ryan’s world goes sideways. Kenzie Balfour is entirely irresistible. She’s the fourth generation to run The Von Eck Estate Winery and she’s more intoxicating than any award-winning cabernet. Ryan has been working hard for a promotion at one of the world’s top investment banks. If he can close this deal for her legendary winery, he gets the job. He can’t let a gorgeous woman with a great laugh get in the way of his goals. Even if she leaves him love drunk. From a trouser-tightening almost-kiss at a restaurant to a seductive walk through a vineyard at sunset, can Ryan keep his crush on his client under control or will a taste of Kenzie be his downfall? Escape to California’s wine country in Crush.

ADD TO YOUR TBR: http://bit.ly/2L78iVa

About Mae Wood

Professional sassypants and novelist, Mae Wood has been a bookworm her entire life. She loves cheeses, complicated crafts that she’ll start but never complete, and puns. A while ago Mae decided that she needed to give up the fear that she couldn’t write “great literature” and write what she wants to read. And she wants romance. And laughter. And real life. She wants heroines who are brave. Brave enough to be themselves and brave enough to fall in love. She wants men who are strong and kind. Mae is the author of Genealogy, a novel that hit the top 100 on Amazon and top 20 in Apple Books. Mae is married, and has two darling children and an old dog who naps at her feet while she writes.

Find Mae Online!

Facebook — https://www.facebook.com/authormaewood/ Reader group — https://www.facebook.com/groups/pigandbarley/ Instagram — https://www.instagram.com/maewoodwrites/ Twitter — https://twitter.com/maewoodwrites Pinterest — https://www.pinterest.com/maewoodwrites/crush/ Youtube — https://www.youtube.com/c/MaeWoodWrites Goodreads — https://www.goodreads.com/maewood BookBub — https://www.bookbub.com/authors/mae-wood

New Release & Review ~ Confessions Of a Naughty Nanny ~ by ~ Piper Rayne

When a famous music producer moves to Lake Starlight it can’t just be a coincidence. It’s the universe helping to move things along in the right direction so that Griffin Thorne can discover me.

 

 
I have to confess—I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.

 

 

 

Confession #1: I may have overhead that he was in search of a nanny. What can I say? My brother has a big mouth.
Confession #2: It’s possible I helped along the assumption that I had nanny experience. Hey, babysitting my nieces and nephew counts, right?
Confession #3: There’s a good chance I oversold my qualifications. But my Grandma Dori backed me up, so it’s not completely my fault.
And it worked. He hired me. Only for me to find out that he left the business. 
I guess it’s on to Plan B.
When he accidentally overhears me singing, I expect nothing from him. Then he asks to work with me on a song for our town’s Founder’s Day Parade and it feels like a dream come true. Until…
Confession #4: I’ve fallen for him. 
 
 
Buy Your Copy Now:
Amazon | Nook | Google Play | Kobo | Apple
 
 
 

I LOVE the Baileys! All of them! And I love that all of their names are the cities they were conceived in. Although there’s so many of them, I wouldn’t want to think of my parents doing it that much – EW. Stopping that thought now.

I love Phoenix’s name because I think of a phoenix rising from the ashes but in her case, it’s rising from her past and what she has perceived herself to be to become the woman she is in the book. Phoenix was down on her luck, used to being the butt of family jokes (in a way) and meeting Griffin and finally taking charge of her life, made her shake off that persona.

Griffin is going through his own growth because he’s shaking off the LA dust and starting over in Lake Starlight. He has NO desire to go back to the LA lifestyle, except when he hears Phoenix sing and knows he has to help her refine her sound.

And then there’s grandma Dori. What can you say about her? She just is so fun and I love her character. I’m SO curious how she will butt into Juno’s story. I hope she’s coming next!

5 stars!

Piper Rayne, or Piper and Rayne, whichever you prefer because we’re not one author, we’re two. Yep, you get two USA Today Bestselling authors for the price of one. Our goal is to bring you romance stories that have “Heartwarming Humor With a Side of Sizzle” (okay…you caught us, that’s our tagline). A little about us… We both have kindle’s full of one-clickable books. We’re both married to husbands who drive us to drink. We’re both chauffeurs to our kids. Most of all, we love hot heroes and quirky heroines that make us laugh, and we hope you do, too.
 
Find All Things Piper Rayne HERE:
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New Release ~ Focused ~ by ~ Karla Sorensen

Title: Focused
Author: Karla Sorensen
Genre: Sports Romance
Release Date: January 7, 2020
If you’ve ever seen your teenage crush ten years later, and he turns out to be a complete jerk, then you know how Molly Ward feels. 
The last time she saw Noah Griffin was the regrettable day that she decided to climb into his bedroom window and turn her unrequited crush into something more. 
That day was bad enough, but things are about to get worse. 
Noah has become one of the best football players in the country, and he’s just landed on Molly’s front step. 
As a new addition to the Washington Wolves roster, Noah’s presence is the key to Molly’s promotion in the front office. 
The problem is, Noah wants nothing to do with Molly, and his surly attitude is making her job very difficult. 
But he’s got another thing coming if he thinks Molly will be intimidated by one grumpy football player, no matter how much he hates being around her. 
Once these two go head to head, their mutual dislike explodes into undeniable chemistry. But with what they have at stake, they just might detonate everything else along with it.
Michelle Claypot_reads “All the stars in the world for this! What a way to kick off my reading for 2020!! Oh my heart! This was absolute perfection.”
The Overflowing Bookcase “A wonderful novel that will become one I will re-read time and time again.”
PP’s Bookshelf “I just love when authors make me feel every single confusing, infuriating, breathtaking and heartbreaking feeling right in my heart. And Karla Sorensen did exactly that in Focused.”
Well, let’s see … I’m a wife and a mother. If the things that I write bring a smile to someone’s face, then I’ve done my job. I am obsessed with Outlander (both the books and the show). I’m almost exclusively a romance reader, which means some people will never consider me a literary snob. If I could meet one historical figure, it would be Jane Austen. I received my Bachelors in Public Relations and worked in health care marketing before I had my babies. I hate Twitter. I do it, but I hate it. Also, if you want to get on my good side, bring me wine and I’ll love you forever.
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New Release ~ Shadow of Angels ~ by ~ Kathryn Ann Kingsley

Title: Shadow of Angels
Series: Halfway Between
Author: Kathryn Ann Kingsley
Genre: New Adult Paranormal Romance
Release Date: January 6, 2020
The first time I died was November 1st, 1945. That might’ve been the first time, but it certainly wasn’t the last.
 
My name is Veil, and my life has been far from normal. Everything I thought I knew about myself had been a lie. Every single thing. Turns out, I had been in the care of a cult dedicated to a King in Hell and fallen archangel.
 
But after learning the truth of who—or what—I am, I devoted my life to stopping them and everyone like them.
 
Which is why when I learned that Boston was under siege from an occult society who was slaughtering innocents, I had no choice but to come and stop them. Even if it meant it would take me piece by piece through that past I’d spent seventy years trying to avoid—and right into the presence of the archdemon I’d been running from for so very long. Asmodeus.
 
Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, I realized once more that I had no clue what was coming next…

 

“Raise your hands if you love villain romance! **Thrusts her hand in the air.** Kathryn is back with a new series! Shadow of Angels was a great beginning, and I can’t wait to read more.” – USA Today Best Selling Author, Tiffany Roberts

“Throw out everything you thought you knew about angels and demons and get ready to be swept off your feet with a kickass heroine in Shadow Of Angels!” – Julia from Red Hatter Book Blog

Veil was dying.

Again.

At this point, she was on a first-name basis with the sensation of her body shutting down. All her organs were struggling valiantly to soldier on, even though things were entirely out of place and had gone very much awry. A golf-ball-sized hole had been punched straight through her chest. But her body only had one job, keeping her alive, and it was trying so very hard to do just that.

She was lying on the floor. A bullet had been what put her there. A particularly large caliber one, judging by the pain. The gun the man had used packed a damn good punch.

It was also likely enchanted and holy.

She figured it went with the territory.

Now she found herself examining the ceiling tiles of a charming little coffee shop. It was trying to make the vintage thing work at all costs, even if it meant putting up fake stamped copper tiles. I bet they’re plastic from Home Depot or something.

It’s amazing what came to mind when the brain was struggling for oxygen and blood. The thoughts were always the most random, trivial things. Never anything salient or prophetic. Never anything interesting.

The bullet might have nicked her heart. It had definitely punctured her lung. She knew this, because when she went to breathe, it felt as though she had liquid in her chest. It gurgled like trying to suck air through a snorkel with too much seawater in it. The sensation was just as unpleasant.

It’d be over soon enough, she knew. It wasn’t the first time this’d happened. It wouldn’t be the last. While every kind of death carried its own unique form of pain, she likened it to flavors of ice cream. Sure, it all tasted different, but down at the core it was the same thing. How she got there might be new and interesting, might be double-fudge or salted caramel, but it all got her to the same place.

Man, I could seriously go for some ice cream right about now.

Lifting her hand, she touched it to the wound in her ribcage. It was sticky and wet. And big. She picked her hand up to look at the blood dripping off her fingers. More out of morbid curiosity than anything else. It was painful to breathe, so she opted not to. It would just get it over with easier that way. The darkness that was creeping at the edges of her vision would come faster. The quicker that happened, the quicker she could get on with her day.

Death obeyed, and she felt the darkness at the edges of her vision rush in closer. The bullet had punched its way easily through bone, flesh, and sinew. The man was also an excellent shot, she’d give him that.

Y’know, Yul Brenner made a weird villain in West World. Again, with the random-ass thoughts. It almost made her laugh. She would have, if she had the air and the lungs to do it. Just another weird thought popping up out of nowhere as her brain struggled to survive.

Veil knew the telltale signs that the end was coming soon. She shut her eyes as her lungs burned and willed her body to just give up the ghost and let it end. When a hand grasped hers and clutched it, she blinked in confusion and looked up at the man kneeling over her.

He had long, chestnut hair in a ponytail and sharp hazel eyes. He wore all black, save for a white clerical collar that only made him look tan by comparison. He held her hand gently, and with his other one with two fingers aloft, gestured in the shape of a cross in the air in front of him. Earnestly, he began to pray in Latin.

It almost made her laugh again.

“Don’t bother,” a familiar voice said from the table nearby.

“What?” the priest kneeling over her looked up, appalled and offended.

“Give her a minute.”



***



Two days prior.

Boston.

Once, not very long ago, the city had been Veil’s home. Well, it was the only place she had spent enough time in to qualify for the title, anyway. And for exactly those reasons, she avoided it as best she could.

Every street seemed to dredge up bad memories and feelings she didn’t want to experience again. She hadn’t been back in…oh, fifteen years, give or take, and another twenty before that. Once and a while she had to pass through, but never long enough to really let the cloud settle over her.

But her work had called her here. There were only a few things that could drag her back here, nearly kicking and screaming. Death on a large scale was one of them.

Death in the city of Boston was something she was familiar with.

This was where she had been raised. This was where she had spent time in the only semblance of a family she had ever known.

And this is where she had killed them all. This is where she had abandoned him to rot.

Veil shuddered. It had nothing to do with the overly-dry, overly-chill hotel room air. It had everything to do with the image that flashed into her mind. The glint of candlelight off a silver blade that was poised to drive into her chest and into her heart.

That had been the first time she had died and the exact moment everything had gone wrong. The moment she had learned everything had been a lie. She shoved the miserable memory to the back of her mind for the millionth time. It came back to her enough without having to dwell on it.

One foot in front of the other. Always. Immortality was going to drag her down the pavement anyway, she might as well stand up and walk. Besides, there was work to do. There were probably demons to hunt, and more importantly, the humans who brought them here.

She was standing by the window, looking down at the street and busy intersection below. They were staying at the Omni-Parker House Hotel. It was supposed to be one of the nicest hotels in the city. It was the oldest, anyway. It showed, if she were honest. It wasn’t a bad hotel, but it wasn’t her favorite. Namely, she wished she could open the window. She’d much prefer the heavy air of the city and the constant honking, shouting, and shrill whistle of the valet driver below, over the rush of the fan and the stifling feeling of the over-recycled air.

But, there was no use trying to get the windows open. They were screwed shut. Any jumpers might mess up traffic more than usual, and the city might not survive that. It was School Street down below her, and it was bumper-to-bumper in the evening rush hour traffic. That one-lane example an utter failure in city planning was already a majestic cluster-fuck on a good day without somebody turning themselves into street pizza adding to the mess.

Boston was a place built not on top of the old, but around it like a bad jigsaw puzzle. It was trying to do its best to cling to the old streets and old buildings that defined it. Unlike New York or Chicago, that hadn’t minded blasting down a few streets to fix problems, Boston was proud to let it linger.

New York and Chicago also had taken advantage of having mostly burned down at some point or another and used that opportunity to build streets in such novel concepts as “straight lines” and “grids.”

Not in Boston.

Major city improvements also never did quite go as planned. The Big Dig was testament to that. It made the populace a little less eager to take on new ones.

This intersection was a perfect example of Boston’s problem. Three lanes of road meeting two lanes meeting one. A seventeenth-century church, a nineteenth-century hotel, and two large glass structures of two very different styles all met at the same point.

School Street, meets Tremont, meets Beacon. Really, School Street should have been bulldozed a long time ago, if it weren’t for the string of historic buildings. Although, one of them seemed to have been turned into a Chipotle somewhere along the way, so there was that.

Old and new, woven around each other to try and make a cohesive whole.

She resembled the city. Maybe a little too much for comfort. Maybe that’s another reason she hated it so much.

Her thoughts strayed and tried to lock onto her opinions of the city below. Anything to keep them from the matter at hand. Anything to keep away from dwelling on what brought her to her former home.

But like a bad yo-yo, her thoughts spun out, ran dry, and let her dangling on the end of the string without anywhere to go. She had to wind it all back up and face the facts. The TV behind her was buzzing away, the local news personalities yammering pointless observations and speculations about one very undeniable thing—this was a city gripped in fear.

People were afraid to go out. They were afraid to leave their houses and apartments after dark. They had a perfectly good reason, by her estimation.

There had been murders.

Messy murders.

One person getting beheaded in an alleyway was awful, but not international news. Two people being dismembered, blood streaking the walls like it had been caused by a piece of rogue farm equipment, and people began to take notice.

But it didn’t stop. Every night, people went entirely missing…or were found in pieces. The sickest part was that the more apt description would be “pieces were found.” The dismembered bodies were never whole. Bits were being taken, but not just any bits. The important ones you’d notice, like the head or the whole torso. They only ever left the limbs behind, if anything other than just the blood.

Nobody had caught sight of what was causing the mayhem. At first, Veil had ignored the news, chocking it up to human, non-magic using crazies, until the blood left behind by one was scrawled onto the wall in a symbol. It was a circle, with angled triangles and pentagons inside of it. It bore all the hallmarks of a kind of ceremonial magic that she was all too familiar with.

It was dribbly, dripping down the cement surface, put there by hand by whoever—or whatever—had murdered the man left crumpled in a heap of torn up parts nearby. The writing was sloppy, the Enochian was mangled, but it had been clear enough.

After that, no matter her hatred for the city and her desire to never come back to Boston, she had to do something to stop whatever was transpiring. She couldn’t look the other way.

Neither could her friend, who was currently tapping away at his laptop like a madman. They were a team. He found her the jobs, she went out and did them. They had the same goal—to make sure as few people in this world suffered the same fate that they both had.

Veil’s job?

Cult hunter.

Not like she carried a card, or anything. She called it a job, but it wasn’t like you go off to get certified in it. She had enough background in the topic to be an “expert.” Both in the creatures that stalked the shadows, and the kind of crazies who worshipped them.

Demons were real. Angels could be worse. Even worse than them, were the humans who dedicated themselves in service to them, who prayed and knelt in devotion to one or more of the ancient creatures.

The ones who had their silly little altars and lit their candles and drew their symbols in chalk on the floors weren’t so bad. They were harmless, and she let them slide by. It was the ones who then etched those symbols in human flesh that were the bigger problem.

She hunted them down, one by one, and did what she needed to do to make sure they wouldn’t hurt anyone again. That was her bad excuse for “work.” It didn’t even come with a paycheck. Not really. Once and a while she’d take a gig here and there that came with a dollar sign attached. Missing persons, mostly. It was lame, but they paid extremely well.

She looked back at her friend. Richard was in his forties now, gray at the temples, glasses having grown thicker over the years, as he peered over them and typed away. She had met him when he was eight years old. He had been huddled in a cage in the corner, his head buried in his hands. He had listened to the screams of his mother and six-year-old sister as they were diced to pieces, dissected alive all in the name of glorious Belphegor.

The joke was on them. Belphegor had retired years ago.

She had “dispatched” the cult in the best way she knew how. She murdered them all. She hated taking lives, but they had given up their right to live when they had started chopping up innocent people. She had taken the boy outside and hugged him and stayed by his side until she had to make her exit as the cops arrived. Veil didn’t do well with the police. Too many very good questions that she had entirely unacceptable answers to, like “how did you get through the locked door?” and “does any of the blood you’re wearing belong to you?”

It usually didn’t. That tended to be the wrong answer. Cops got huffy at that kind of thing, go figure.

She’d kept an eye on Richard as he grew up. His family was gone, his dad having been shot by the cultists when he had tried to protect his family from being taken. The poor kid had been put right into child services. He was adopted at around ten years old by a nice family who cared for him. She had made sure he had everything he’d needed. When he went to college—and went on to get his doctorate—she had quietly paid for his tuition and made it look like a miraculous scholarship award.

She’d done her best to stay out of his life and to stay away from him. She only brought trouble, and any association he had with her was going to end poorly. That worked right up until the invention of the internet. Then, Richard had found her. He tracked her down by finding the occult bastards she was after right before she did.

The first few times he pulled that stunt she walked away from him and told him to go away and leave her alone. She insisted that she was dangerous. But the man was brutally stubborn, and he kept at her for years. Finding her targets before she would, texting her the locations—she still didn’t know how he had gotten her phone number—and meeting her at the scene before she went to work.

Finally, she had given up. He was better at hunting down her quarry than she was, that was for damn sure. And, once she’d given up and let him help, they had become fast friends. It was Richard’s digging and connections that had turned up the classified image of the circle painted in blood on the alley wall in Boston.

If it had been any ol’ ceremonial magic circle, she would have come to stop the sect and it wouldn’t have been anything out of the ordinary. It wouldn’t have bothered her or brought up the memories that were pulling at the back of her mind and ruining her mood.

But it hadn’t been just any circle. Ceremonial circles have rules. They work in certain ways, using lines and the right words to draw power. They tap into energies and pull from them. One wrong line, and it’s as useful as a lead balloon. This one…had invented a whole new set of rules. But, much like looking at the first cubist painting by Picasso, she knew it still worked. Even if it defied everything she knew.

The other problem is whose power it was tapping into. Whose name was scrawled in sloppy but legible Enochian. It was one that made her skin crawl. One that she knew quiet well.

Asmodeus.

The sun was going down, and that meant that it was almost time to get going. All the recent murders and disappearances all happened at night. Cliché, but not unexpected. She walked away from the window and slumped down at the opposite side of the table from Richard. Their hotel rooms had a little adjoining living room-ish kind of thing with a kitchenette, and while it was tiny, it worked. Hopefully they wouldn’t be in town for long.

The doctor in philosophical history—she thought that’s what it was, she could never get it right—had quickly taken over the table that was supposed to be used for eating, and had covered it in scraps of paper, notebooks, leather bound volumes, manuscripts, and his laptop. Research.

He didn’t acknowledge her she had sat down. He probably hadn’t noticed. Veil began to absently spin a piece of paper on the table in front of her underneath her fingers. “Any leads yet?”

“No,” he replied after a long pause and without looking up from his screen. “No one’s seen anything like the circle they drew on the wall. It’s…based in the lesser key, but it’s a new alteration. I have a few friends working on it, but nothing’s turned up yet. I still think we should contact the Church and see if they know anything. I’ve heard reports they’re already in the city, and—”

“No. Absolutely not. I haven’t hidden from them for this long only to screw it up now.”

“But—”

“We can solve it ourselves. We can. We always have before.”

He sighed. “Fine. I’ll keep trying. But I can’t make heads or tails of it. It’s entirely new. I can’t figure what they’re after.”

“Well, they need to be stopped. I don’t really care what they’re after.”

“Are they trying to bring him back?” That was the first time Richard looked up over the top of his glasses and screen at her, gray eyes worried.

“They can’t. Not from where I put him. Nobody can. Either they’re too stupid to know that, or they’re after something else.” At least, she was pretty sure of that. She at least sounded confident.

Richard shook his head, and sighed, at a loss. “If you manage not to knock one of their heads off in the process, perhaps we can question them.”

She snickered. “I’ll do my best, but I make no promises.” She stood again and stretched, cracking her back. She walked into her hotel room and grabbed her weapons. Two metal rods, about two feet long each, and otherwise nondescript. They weren’t flashy, but they were more than effective. Flashy got you noticed—flashy drew questions. Two metal rods earned you some squinty-eyed looks from the cops and the locals but could be mistaken for the weirdest new sporting craze, like those people who speed-walk with weights or something.

She slipped them into the holsters she wore on her legs, one on each side, tied her long hair back into a ponytail, grabbed her coat, and headed for the door.

“Be careful, Veil.”

“It’s just some losers collecting hearts because they read somewhere they could cast fireballs with them,” she grinned as she wiggled her fingers at him as if she were casting a cartoonish spell. “Just another day on the job, Richie. I’ll be fine.”

“Yes, yes,” he laughed. “But something feels odd about this one. The public attacks in a major city? And it’s his name they wrote…”

“I know. Trust me, I know.”

“And here, of all places, to have his name appear?”

She gritted her teeth and did her best not to yell at him that she was very much aware of the fact that this wasn’t a coincidence, no matter how you looked at it. “Just idiots in robes Richie. Like it always is.”



***



Veil walked down the street, humming to herself, slurping happily on her frappa-mocha-something from the coffee shop. She loved coffee. Adored it. And this was a frilly, far-too-sweet concoction loaded with more sugar and whipped cream than any of the actual caffeinated substance.

Fine by her.

It was seven o’clock, and it was already growing dark in mid-October fall. It was gorgeous in Boston that time of year. Even if it didn’t have a whole lot of trees to turn color, it was worth it. Halloween season was a special time in New England. The whole region seemed to just appreciate the holiday more—you could almost feel it tap into the earth. She used to spend a lot of time up on the north shore in Ipswich in her early years, and she remembered how inherently creepy that whole region was. She had loved it at the time and eaten up every volume of Lovecraft any of her so-called family would bring her. That, along with any scrap of anything spooky or morbid she could get her hands on.

The memories made her smile even as they dug a dagger into her heart. It was a painful kind of hate and fondness that mixed together as she took another slurp from the sugary mess she had purchased. It chased away her melancholy. Hard not to, when it even had little chocolate sprinkles on top.

No self-respecting adult had the right to buy something this stupid with a straight face. And she hadn’t, to be fair. She’d been grinning the whole time.

Focus, you moron. Focus. All the murders and disappearances had centered in and around the center of the city. And so, she started there. Worked her way out in slowly-widening circles. Which, really, were probably squiggly lines knowing the stupid street layout.

But she didn’t plan on walking around all night just hoping to trip over a bunch of assholes trying to summon whoever-or-whatever they were intent on calling. She had a plan. She was just trying to find the right place. It’s surprisingly hard to find a dark and deserted alley when you need one. Maybe they all went out of fashion. Not to mention, a dark and deserted alley that felt right.

Magical hoo-ha and all that stupidity. She didn’t understand it. But she felt it like the weather. People didn’t need to understand why it rained to know it was wet.

Finally, after an hour or two—and long after her sugary monstrosity had run out—she found the right spot. Glancing left and right, making sure she was alone, shed pulled a piece of white chalk out of her coat pocket. Humming and half-singing, murmuring the lyrics to “Black Hole Sun” to herself, she drew on the side of the Mexican restaurant the symbols she needed.

It took her three attempts of one line to get it right, and she had to use the melting ice from her coffee cup to wipe it clean. “Damn it,” she grumbled.



“Penmanship, dear. Penmanship is key.” The hand that settled on the back of hers was warm and gentle. Even if the voice was cold and trying to sound stern, it was clear it was for show. His emerald eyes seemed to catch her in them and hold her. They always had, and they always would.

“Start again, this time, try it with straight lines for a change.”

“A novel concept,” she teased back. “And here I was trying to be artistic.” No, really, she was just awful at drawing straight lines. He could do it with perfect and practiced ease, like it wasn’t even difficult. “Nobody appreciates my talent.”

“There is a time and place for all things.” He chuckled at her sarcastic joke. “Try again.”



Veil bit back the memory and swallowed it hard into the back of her throat. That, or the smell of the rotting dumpster nearby, was making her nauseous. Probably both. But finally, the work was done. She took a step back and eyed her work. It was a little crooked. She could almost hear his voice haunting her, pointing out over her shoulder the bits she had screwed up. He had been a perfectionist in all things.

The worst part was that he had never been wrong. It was hard to argue when he was right, but it hadn’t ever stopped her from trying.

Biting back the melancholy again, she sighed. It wasn’t flawless, but it’d work just fine. She tossed her plastic coffee cup into the offensive dumpster and walked back up to the symbol and put her palm flat against the center.

It was like popping a bottle of champagne. She had created the bottle, the cork, and the fizzy substance that wanted nothing more than to explode. If she didn’t pop it right, she’d take the cork to the face, shatter something, and otherwise just make a massive mess of things.

She shut her eyes and let herself focus on the feeling of it beneath her palm. Like a racing river beneath a smooth, frozen surface.

Some people had to chant to do magic. Some people used symbols. Some people gestured. Most did all three. They were all tools. They were guns, knives, swords, or tanks. They all existed for the same purpose—getting the job done. Magic was about will. Sheer, unadulterated force of will over the world around them.

Veil was shit at magic.

Well, no, that wasn’t true. She was better than the cultists she was always hunting. They sucked at magic. She had always just been surrounded by people far better at it than she was. She had always felt like the child playing adults at poker. And for all intents and purposes, she had been.

At least she didn’t have to chant or flail around like a moron. Her weapon of choice was drawing symbols and using those to tap into the world around her. She felt the lines she had drawn and used it like a fork. Just plunked it into the power around her and willed it to do what she wanted.

And right now, she wanted a compass. Something to show her the way to the fuckers that decided to make murder the new fall fashion statement.

She really had to learn to be more specific.

“Command me, Mistress!”

Oh, no.

Oh, fucking Hell.

Veil jumped back from the wall and watched in horror as an…imp pushed itself forward from the wall. Oozed out of the concrete as it borrowed molecules and substance from the building itself to create its body.

It flapped its little purple bat wings, and it landed on a trashcan nearby with a loud thunk. It was a chubby little bastard, and it looked like its little leathery wings wouldn’t hold up its girth on a good day. It petted its stomach with a toothy grin, tipped its stumpy, piggish face back and snuffed loudly in the direction of the dumpster. “What smells good?”

Veil groaned.

She hated imps.

It stood itself up and flapped its wings, and then landed on her shoulder like a fat, leathery cat. “What is our mission, Mistress?”

She tried to keep the disgust off her face. She was pretty sure she failed. Well, this is what she got for not being very specific in what kind of compass she wanted to create. “We’re hunting cultists. Murderers. They’re out somewhere and the city and I need to find them.”

“Oooh! Yes, yes! I can do these things! Yes!” It pointed a stubby, clawed finger out of the alley. “We should go that way!”

“That’s the only way out.”

“I know!” It grinned toothily. “Exactly! Then it is the right choice!”

She really hated imps.

“Just make yourself invisible. The last thing I need is to cause a panic.”

“I…cannot do this thing.” The imp pouted as he shoved a finger inside his ear and wiggled it, as if trying to get out some wax. She wanted to chuck it off her shoulder, but, she had summoned it, and that’d be rude. “Ah! I know! The humans have a beast for this kind of deed!”

It flew from her shoulder to the ground, and as it landed, its body flashed brightly and changed. She had to turn her head away, and when she looked back, the worlds weirdest looking dog was sitting at her feet, tongue hanging out the side of its mouth, panting happily.

Reaching down to pick up the leash it had the presence of mind to summon with its change, she sighed. “All right. Let’s go.”

It bounced up to its feet eagerly and bounded toward the entrance to the alleyway. But not before stopping to lift a leg and take a piss on a few boxes and empty kegs.

She really, really hated imps.
Kat has always been a storyteller. With ten years in script-writing for performances on both the stage and for tourism, she has always been writing in one form or another. When she isn’t penning down fiction, she works as Creative Director for a company that designs and builds large-scale interactive adventure games. There, she is the lead concept designer, handling everything from game and set design, to audio and lighting, to illustration and script writing. Also on her list of skills are artistic direction, scenic painting and props, special effects, and electronics. A graduate of Boston University with a BFA in Theatre Design, she has a passion for unique, creative, and unconventional experiences. In her spare time, she builds animatronics and takes trapeze classes.

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New Release ~ Keystone ~ by ~ Katie Delahanty

Today we have the release day blitz for Katie Delahanty’s KEYSTONE! Check it out and be sure to grab your copy today!!

Title: Keystone

Author: Katie Delahanty

Genre: YA Scifi

 

About Keystone:

When Ella Karman debuts on the Social Stock Exchange, she finds out life as a high profile “Influencer” isn’t what she expected. Everyone around her is consumed by their rankings, in creating the smoke and mirrors that make them the envy of the world.

But then Ella’s best friend betrays her, her rankings tank, and she loses—everything.

Leaving her old life behind, she joins Keystone, a secret school for thieves, where students are trained to seal everything analog and original because something—or someone—is changing history to suit their needs.

Partnered with the annoyingly hot—and utterly impossible—Garrett Alexander, who has plenty of his own secrets, Ella is forced to return to the Influencer world, while unraveling a conspiracy that began decades ago.

 

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Exclusive Excerpt:

“But doesn’t being a Disconnect mean no technology? How would anyone even know about me?” I ask.

“We may live off the grid, but it’s important we’re aware of what’s going on in the world. At Keystone, we’re a special legion of Disconnects. Our mission is to steal analog history—to preserve the truth—before corporations and the government can alter the past to benefit their personal futures. We’re in danger of entering a Digital Dark Age, where the only information available is digital. Tape recordings, printed books, films, photographs—proof of history—are decaying and becoming scarce. Digital information is easy to tamper with, and there are forces at work that want current society to reflect their version of the past.” Allard sips her tea before continuing.

“Often, we’re after priceless works that are protected by the latest technology, so we have to understand tech even though we don’t use it ourselves. We have internet access in the Crypt—that’s our code-breaking library—and the TMI-feed is likely a guilty pleasure for some of the girls. They watch the Networks—they have to. For your Initiation Heist, you’ll be asked to go under cover in Influencer society, and you’ll need to know how to fit in—and how to hide in plain sight.”

“Initiation Heist?” I almost choke on my tea, the cup rattling in my trembling hands at having to reenter society.

“It’s the final test before becoming a full-fledged Keystone member with access to our top-level secrets, but don’t worry,” Allard says. “You’ll have plenty of time to learn our ways—and you’ll participate in a heist as an assistant to an Initiate—before you’re asked to lead a heist the following year.”

“Lead a heist?” My eyes bulge. “Right.”

About the Author:

Katie lives in Los Angeles with her husband, twin daughters, and son. Growing up in Pittsburgh, she loved old movies and playing dress up, but never considered telling stories of her own until she was asked to start a blog for the sleepwear company she worked for. Unsure what to say about lingerie, she wrote a fictional serial about a girl chasing her costume design dreams who fell in love with a rock star along the way. And that’s when Katie fell in love with storytelling. That blog became The Brightside Series and she’s been waking before dawn to write ever since.

 

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