Excerpt:Suddenly a hand shot out of the wall ahead of her, giving her no time to react or slow her pace as it grabbed her shoulder. Kari pulled at the fingers, tugging at their grasp, trying to hurry. She had to escape the damn water!
Lightning sparked along her claws. She raised her hand to attack again, intending to cut the fingers right off of her.
A familiar voice growled, “Do it and we’re dead.”
Kari froze long enough for the hand to pull her straight into the wall. She stumbled through and fell face-first on something hard and cool.
Groaning, she rolled onto her back and looked up into the sweat-dotted, strained, and frowning face of Guine. Above him hung a ceiling of some kind of jagged, translucent, blue rock.
“Why did you stop?” he demanded rather angrily. “I said we had to keep moving, didn’t I?”
For a moment Kari thought she was still waiting for the water to overtake her. That filthy, disgusting-smelling, murky water. Slowly she realized they had changed locations again; now they were in some sort of cavern. Completely dry and relatively safe, at least for the moment.
Kari jumped up and bared her teeth at Guine. “You didn’t say if I stopped that would happen!”
“Why would I say, ‘don’t stop’ if that wasn’t a vitally important thing to do?!”
“You’re often unclear and exaggerate!” she snapped back.
They glared at each other for a long time. He was mad, but she was madder. He had not been very upfront with her about this wretched maze, and that enraged her. She did not need the Catalyst to fuel her anger; her heart thrummed against her ribs, taking all of her breath with it, and it had not stopped since that first room.
The danger here was real, and yet intangible. She had faced so many people who wanted her dead, or worse. But this place would kill her at the slightest mistake.
Finally, Guine sighed, his face relaxing into exhaustion. He turned away from her.
“It doesn’t matter now. It’s done. But now…now we face a problem.”
The walls were just like the ceiling, seemingly made of something crystalline. Ahead of her, she could see an opening in the circular room.
“What problem? Besides being in this yutemi you’ve created, that is.”
Guine chose to ignore her snappy tone. “We got off-track. Things will change now. I can find the way since I did make this as an option, but now it will take us longer.”
Kari’s gaze slowly trailed back to him. He’d said…what? Two or three days? Without food.
Now it would take longer?
“Just how much longer are you talking about, Guine?” Kari hissed.
He shrugged, not quite nonchalant, but rather resigned. “Maybe tack on a week. At the very least.”
Kari’s mouth dried. Already her stomach rumbled; now that the adrenaline had passed through her system, she was hungry. She wasn’t stupid. She knew her body would be capable of going quite a long time without sustenance, but that long? And what of their water supply?
She felt for the bag, but her fingers were too numb to reach inside for the waterskin. The cavern suddenly seemed very small.
“Guine…”
“Thirst will not be a real issue,” Guine said as if he had read her mind. “When I designed this way, I made a room for myself so that I could survive if I slipped up. There will be a room ahead that provides fresh, drinkable water. Hopefully, we can store enough to last us the rest of the time if we ration it.”
“And what about food?”
He hesitated. “The room…also has a solution for that. For humans. There’s no way we could know it would work for you, or at the very least not kill you.”
Kari stared past him. The only exit out of the cavern they were in was a single tunnel that turned sharply into darkness.
“I will not die in here, Guine.”
“I don’t intend for you to,” he said wearily. “But if things were serious at all to you before, it’s worse now.” He walked to one of the walls and sat down. “We should rest before we go on. Exhaustion and stress make the mind do stupid things.”
Kari didn’t move. She thought of a time long ago when she had left behind Snow Shade. Then she had perhaps gone a day or so without a real meal. It was like torture to her, weakening her body and senses until she had come across something to eat.
She could have adjusted to the idea of three days with no food. But more than a week?
Wednesday, July 24, 2024
The Storm Breaks by Valerie Storm
Monday, July 22, 2024
Release Day Blitz Realm of Dreams and Destiny by Stella Dale
EXCERPT 1
She was, in every way, an enigma––a beautiful witch who appeared from the shadows, capturing my heart and imagination. And leaving me forever changed.
The witch with chestnut hair and vibrant green eyes has been appearing to me for five years. Each visit is our shared secret, a hidden world that unfolds within the confines of the empire grounds. She meets me in the courtyard, gardens, and stable, always under the veil of secrecy.
She believes I’m a knight in the emperor’s service because it’s what I’ve allowed her to believe. Perhaps it’s the way she often finds me in training, always clad in golden armor. Or maybe it’s the way I carry myself with the discipline and bearing of a soldier.
In her eyes, I see a mixture of curiosity and innocence. It’s a wonder that the harsh realities of our worlds have not marred what we share. She speaks to me of her life, her dreams, her fears. But never once has she asked about my lineage. Never once has she voiced suspicions that I’m more than what I appear to be.
To her, I’m a knight. Not the crown prince. Not the heir to the empire. There’s a simplicity in that identity, a freedom that allows me to be someone other than the person everyone else expects me to be. With her, I’m not burdened by the weight of the crown, the expectations of an empire or the gaze of a demanding father.
Our conversations meander through topics both mundane and magical. She speaks of her world, a place of beauty and enchantment, so different from the structured life I lead. Her tales are a balm to my soul, providing a respite from the rigors of my princely duties.
Yet with each visit, a part of me aches with the guilt of deception. I long to tell her the truth and reveal who I am, but fear holds me back. I’m afraid of losing the connection and bond we share. The truth could tear us apart. I don’t know how I might cope with losing her and what we have. So I remain silent, cherishing each moment we have, living in the stolen time of our secret encounters.
In her presence, I find a peace I never knew I needed. It’s a connection that transcends the boundaries of our respective worlds. As the crown prince and future emperor, my life is filled with duty and expectation. But with her, I’m just a young man caught in the spell of a beautiful young witch.
Sometimes I wonder if she ever looks at me and sees beyond the armor and guise of a soldier. Does she ever glimpse the prince hidden beneath the golden metal? Does she sense the lineage coursing through my veins or the destiny that awaits me outside our secret meetings?
The connection we share has grown beyond mere friendship. I’ve found a confidante in her, a kindred spirit who understands me in ways that others can’t. Our conversations drift from the mundane to the profound, each word a thread in the intricate web of understanding and acceptance we’ve built.In the quiet moments we share, I often catch myself marveling at the ease with which we interact. There’s an effortless flow in our conversations, a rhythm as natural as the ebb and flow of the tides. She listens with a depth that makes me feel heard in the truest sense, her responses thoughtful and genuine.
There’s a vulnerability in our interactions and a mutual openness that has grown. I’ve revealed hidden parts of myself I’ve kept guarded from the world, and shared fears and dreams that I’ve never voiced aloud. In return, she’s entrusted me with her own inner thoughts, her hopes and her sorrows.
The ability to be my truest self with her is liberating and poignant. In her company, I find a sense of peace and belonging that eludes me in my royal life. She’s become a sanctuary and haven where I can lay down the burdens of my title and just be me.
This witch who’s cast a spell over my heart… I like her more than I ever thought possible. And lately, I’ve grappled with a startling realization.
I might have fallen in love with her.
Friday, July 19, 2024
Fanning Fireflies by LS Delorme #ParanormalMystery #Historical
Excerpt:
Veronica froze.
Lazlo began walking the very same path she had walked minutes earlier, although he looked much more graceful than she must have looked. His gate was long and easy. His eyes were down, staring at the track as he walked. Veronica sat as still as she could, terrified that he might see her, equally terrified that he wouldn’t.
As he came to the spot where she was sitting, he didn’t look up. He walked right past her, as if he hadn’t seen her. Veronica felt a stab in her heart. Before she could stop herself, she called out.
“Aren’t you Lazlo Fox?”
He turned quickly.
“That’s me,” he said, and a grin lit up his face.
Now that he was here, Veronica realized that she hadn’t planned what she would say if she saw him. For a second, she considered saying that the draft office needed more information about him, but she realized that was both stupid and an obvious lie.
“I have an extra biscuit, if you’re hungry,” was what she managed to squeak out.”
She had hoped to be able to speak with him for a just a moment. She knew that it would be dangerous for him to even be seen with her, but as he walked toward her, she held the biscuit out for him. She knew that he would have to climb up to her to get it, and despite the danger, this is what she wanted.
Instead of scrambling up the broken concrete, as she had done, he gracefully jumped from one to the next, balancing on the ball of one foot as he landed on each one. In less than a minute he was standing on the rock next to her. She expected him to take the biscuit and leave, but she wanted him to stay… how badly she wanted him to stay.
Lazlo smiled and took the proffered biscuit bag gently from her, but his eyes were on her face, not on the bag. For a moment, he paused, and then he sat down next to her. He wasn’t so close that she might accidentally touch him but his feet dangling over the edge of the rock next to hers felt weirdly intimate. He opened the bag and pulled out the biscuit. Veronica looked down at her biscuit and took a tiny bite, pretending to be engrossed in eating but her heart was racing so hard, she almost choked on the bread.
“Lazlo, that’s an unusual name, is it a family name or something?” she asked.
Lazlo turned and smiled at her. She was suddenly afraid that she had said something wrong or stupid, although she couldn’t for the life of her think what it was.
Lazlo’s eyes suddenly got wide.
“Well, my mama named me that cause she’s a witch,” he said quickly, and then winced and shook his head.
“That sounded awful,” he said quickly. “I’m not talking bad about my mama. She’s actually a witch, so she thinks like attracts like. And if she gives me a rich-sounding name that will draw money to me.”
Lazlo then laughed and shook his head.
“I can’t believe I just told you that,” he said. “I never told anyone that before. Probably because—”
Then he stopped.
Veronica’s heart felt like it had grown to take up the whole of her chest. She was frightened of what Lazlo would see if she looked at him, so she took another bite of her biscuit. When she did look up, he was looking at her with eyes that were hopeful and wary in equal measure.
“It sounds like your mother really cares about you,” was what she finally said. And that was all.
Looking at Lazlo’s guarded yet hopeful eyes, Veronica desperately wanted to tell him that none of this stuff mattered. She wanted to say that they could be friends, or even more. Inside, her crazy heart said that they could just run away together. She longed to say this out loud, but she knew it wasn’t true. Neither of them could outrun their class or caste. Lazlo was a colored man.
She was the poor white daughter of a single mother. If he was an untouchable, she was barely one step above that. Her brain told her that, even if her heart argued otherwise.
Tuesday, July 16, 2024
Guest Blog- A Tale of Something New by D. S. McColgan
Excerpt:
At dinner, Liliana repeated what the stranger had said. After all, he now had a name.
Then the weather was discussed, and the whole table agreed that they were expecting another cold snap. Grandmother felt it in her bones, the farmhands and Cedric observed it in the animals’ behaviour and Father smelled it in the air. The chicken broth was well received.
Armed with a portion of said broth, Liliana ventured to the stranger’s bed after dinner. He awoke immediately and swallowed greedily, his gaze fixed on the bowl. There were so many questions swirling around in her head that she didn’t quite know where to start. If he was missing his memories, he couldn’t answer most of them, and she didn’t want to overwhelm him.
‘Do you remember me?’
He looked up briefly. ‘Yes.’
The fact that he could remember newer things was a good sign.
‘How’s the pain?’
‘Don’t ask.’
Liliana would’ve liked to know if his curt manner was part of his personality or due to the pain he was in. To wake up in a strange environment, in this agonising state and unable to recollect anything … No, she didn’t envy him.
Once the bowl was empty, she gave him the medicine, and Grandmother came to look at his wounds. She loosened the bandages in some places, careful not to damage the skin that had already healed. She rubbed on some of the ointment containing the resin Liliana had collected.
The stranger grimaced but made no sound.
‘That’s my grandmother,’ Liliana said. ‘She’s nursed many people back to health.’
Since he lay there quietly afterwards, Liliana stayed in the room. She was eager to talk to him more, but he kept his eyes closed, exhaustion on his face. So she sat down with her book, in front of the wardrobe. It was a precious, carved piece of furniture that Father had given to her mother after their wedding.
‘How did I get here?’
Astonished, she looked up. His eyes were still closed, but it seemed he felt her presence in the room. ‘I found you half-dead in the woods and brought you here.’
A pause followed, during which Liliana watched him over the edge of the book. What a peculiar way of speaking he had … Although she understood him clearly, the melody of his sentences sounded strange to her ears. His lips formed the words with precision, as if every single one of them deserved to be heard.
‘Be honest, what are my chances?’
‘The fact that you survived the first few days is amazing. If you keep going like this, I’m sure you’ll make it.’
A hint of a smile appeared on his lips. He opened his eyes and slowly turned his head to look at her, quietly grunting with pain. ‘What … are you reading?’
The bronze colour of his eyes still fascinated her. ‘Oh, this? A collection of fairy tales.’
Another pause followed while they studied each other.
‘You like books?’
‘I do. Would you like me to read you one of the stories?’
‘Yes, please.’
Liliana cleared her throat. ‘Most farmers struggle with reading. While I am by far the best reader in the family, it probably still sounds bungled to trained ears.’
The stranger gave her another smile to acknowledge her efforts and closed his eyes.
Liliana began to read. She hadn’t read out loud in a long time. No one here shared her enthusiasm for books. Why would they? There always seemed to be gossip to share, and after a day of hard work, most people in the village didn’t want to overexert their tired brains. For them, books were an expensive and superfluous possession. When Cedi had been younger, she’d taught him to read. As with many other activities, her little brother started on it with great zeal, only to lose interest after the first few strides. Reading to someone who may be well educated made her nervous. But she soon found her rhythm. As intended, the stranger relaxed. Distraction was a good antidote to pain.
Monday, July 15, 2024
10 Things You Didn’t Know About LS Delorme
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Excerpt:
“Everyone, could you pass your weekly journals forward,” Ms. Pryll announced. “And I think, perhaps, today I will pick a few of you to read your entries to the rest of the class. Ms. McCormick, you always have such interesting entries. How about we begin with you?”
Ms. Pryll motioned her forward. Ah, her eye rolling had been noticed. Amelie really wasn’t off to a good start today. On top of her intestinal grumbling, she was feeling the beginnings of a tension headache creeping up the back of her neck.
Just as she was standing up to assume the position at the front of the classroom, someone stumbled through the door. It was Hudson. He was slumping, holding on to the doorframe. Hudson wouldn’t be drawing attention to himself in normal circumstances. Something was wrong. Ms. Pryll was finally pulled from her flirting by the fact that the rest of the class was staring at the doorway. As they watched, Hudson slid down the doorframe into a huddled position.
“Now Mr. Crowe, please come in and sit down,” said Ms. Pryll, with exasperation.
Hudson managed to hold up a small blue object, before slumping forward.“Dude’s been drinking?” Ryan laughed from the back.
Hudson tried one more time to raise his head and lift the thing in his hands. Everyone in the class just stared at him. The front of Amelie’s forehead suddenly exploded with images, and the lighted words from the cereal box this morning made sense.
Low. Sugar. Bad.
“He’s not drunk,” Amelie snapped. “That’s a glucose meter. He’s diabetic.”
Amelie dropped her notebook and ran to the door, falling to her knees beside Hudson. She had a vague notion that this hurt and she would be bruised later, before she grabbed Hudson’s head. She didn’t know if people in insulin shock had seizures or not, but that didn’t matter. She knew what to do. She had been told by something more reliable than memory. Low blood sugar was bad.
What to do? Okay, Elodie had her phone. What else? Jack, he always ate breakfast at his desk. Today it was a bottle of orange juice. Thank god.
“Elodie, call 911—now! Jack, throw me your OJ,” Amelie snapped.
Jack just smirked at her, completely disengaged in the fact that another human being was in crisis. A wave of fury replaced the images in Amelie’s head, making everything around her look shiny, sharp, and red. The world began to move in slow motion. She turned, her eyes met Jack’s, and she let her well-constructed shields drop … just… drop. The energy that flowed out of her felt glorious.
“Jack, throw me your OJ, now,” she said, softly this time. She saw the shocked look on Jack’s face, but he immediately grabbed the OJ and tossed it to her. The chemical wave that seemed to be her birthright rolled over him, through him, past him and across the class … person by person, face by face.
Wednesday, July 3, 2024
Writing Age Gap Romance with A. Mariposa #PNR #ParanormalRomance #AgeGap #AgeGapRomance
Excerpt: Waking Up in Your Forbidden Crush’s House. Wearing His Shirt. You Know. Normal Things.
“Hey.”
She stiffened. Her heart gave a little flutter. She knew that voice. His deep, husky baritone was unmistakable.
Maddy looked back over her shoulder.
It was him.
Oh good lord.
He stood at the entrance to the kitchen, a towel over one shoulder.
Their eyes met.
She felt a little zap of lightning.
She swallowed. Hard.
Maddy turned around slowly to face him. She was shocked. He was her secret. Secrets were supposed to remain hidden. Not standing before her, face-to-face.
This was her first time standing so close to him outside of work, in broad daylight, without a dark moonlit forest obscuring his physique. His honey-hazel eyes glimmered beneath stern brows. His black hair, a warm tone like rich earthen humus, fell freely past his shoulders.
His massive chest made two little mountains under his white T-shirt. He was very tall and packed with muscle; she guessed him to be three or four inches over six feet.
A full sleeve of tattoos covered each arm. She had never really looked at them before. Up near his left shoulder, partly hidden by his shirt, she saw a vibrant, grinning skull in the sinister style of Dios de Los Muertos. The word LOBO in rustic Southwest font ran down his right forearm, while LOCO ran down the left. If his arms were both down, it read “lobo loco.” His right arm also carried the astrological symbol of a Scorpio, or maybe it was just a big fucking scorpion. The rest of the sleeve was too intricate for her to really appreciate at a glance.
His skin was deep tan. He wore blue jeans and steel-toed work boots. Something like car grease stained his shirt. She wondered, not for the first time, if he worked at a garage.
Maddie realized she was staring with her mouth slightly open. She shut it. She met his eyes again. She really didn't know what to say.
“You hungry?” he asked.
Then he walked back into the kitchen.
Maddy followed him with some hesitation. She felt like a stray cat who had wandered into someone’s house. He set a plate of bacon down on the kitchen table, and she pulled out a chair and sat down. Next to the bacon was a plate of scrambled eggs and two big waffles with maple syrup.
“I didn’t know what you liked,” he said, like he needed to explain why he’d served her an entire breakfast buffet. “Eat up. I’ll finish the rest.”
“Uh . . . thank you,” she mumbled.
She picked up her fork and speared one of the waffles onto her plate. The sight of so much food made her suddenly ravenous. She felt like she had burned ten-thousand calories the night before. She started shoving warm, syrup-covered waffles straight into her mouth.
He continued washing the dishes. The voice on the TV droned on. Maddy’s ears suddenly perked when she heard her name. “Now on local news, five bodies were found in the woods just outside Black River, NY . . . Police are saying animal attack . . . nearby mobilehome abandoned . . . currently searching for Madeline Donovan, a student at Black River High School. If you have any information about her whereabouts, please call . . . .”
So the police were looking for her. Wow. Color her impressed. Someone must have reported her missing. Maybe because of the gunshots. Certainly not her father. Sounded like Dean still hadn’t come home.
Another voice interrupted Maddy’s thoughts, a memory from the night before: “Rough up the guy. . . Toss his place . . . Leave a message.”
Maddy’s hands started to shake.
Her fork slipped through her clumsy fingers. It clattered to her plate. Then to the floor. It made a lot of noise.
The man turned to look at her.
“Sorry, uh . . . sorry,” she muttered.
Her hands clutched the bottom of her shirt as she tried to stop trembling.
He was still watching her. That made it worse. This isn’t normal. Nothing about this is normal. She was in his house. Her head was bandaged, and she was sitting in his boxers and a T-shirt. She felt a weird sense of vertigo. Everything was surreal.
She stared at her plate. Her cheeks were burning. She tried not to think of the unnegotiable fact that she was wearing his clothes, which meant someone must have undressed her the night before, which meant he absolutely saw her naked.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
He shut off the sink. Then he passed through the kitchen and into the living room, where he picked up the remote. He turned off the TV.
“Sorry if that bothered you,” he said.
“It’s alright,” she said.
She turned in the chair. She could see him clearly; he was only about ten feet away. She studied his face again. The light from the window cast shadows beneath his high cheekbones.
Devilish. He had a masculine neck, a cleft chin, a straight nose and a slightly prominent brow that gave his face a stern appearance. His lips were firm and sensual. His lashes were long and dark. His eyes were a bright, unusual hazel color. Sometimes they were green, and sometimes they were gold. She couldn’t tell if he was Native American, Mexican, Brazilian or a little bit of everything. To her, he looked like an exotic model from somewhere warm and tropical.
She felt a flutter in her stomach. It was not a shy tickle, but a steroid-enhanced butterfly striking her ribcage. She liked him so much. But . . . he was an adult, and she was only nineteen.
So, like, probably too young for him. God, she could not stop blushing.
“So what happened last night?” he asked.