Sunday, March 17, 2024

Pulling Her Resources Book Blitz

 

Pulling Her Resources
Mia Sivan
Publication date: March 16th 2024
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

In Tel Aviv’s high-stakes business world, Dafna works in a startup teetering on the brink of financial doom. Divorced for six years and starved for passion, she goes on a wild one-night stand with a hot, much younger bartender. But then, the tattooed barman strolls into her startup. Surprise! Turns out he is Erez Ben Ami, the CPA assigned to go over their books with a fine-tooth comb.

Erez is a single dad, with a young brother to support. His boss offers him a dream position, but there’s a catch: first, review a new, promising startup and make it as favorable as possible. His future is on the line, and he must suppress his feelings for Dafna, keeping his hands and other parts to himself.

Dafna can’t stop wanting Erez, he is the man who made her get over her ex-husband. They spend hours together, and soon, they’re using the office desks for more than emails.

Erez is falling for Dafna, she is the woman he has always looked for. When he suspects shady dealings within her company, he finds himself at a loss. Investigating it can cost him his dream job, as well as the love of his life.

Pulling Her Resources is a stand-alone later-in-life steamy romance featuring a forbidden workplace affair, financial intrigue and a Happy Ever After.

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EXCERPT:

“Do you have a condom?”

Fuck! Rookie mistake!

“A condom?” He stalled, panic building in his abdomen, realizing that he most definitely didn’t have one. He didn’t travel everywhere with them. His brother would have been better prepared. Eitan always had one in his trousers’ back pocket.

“You know, that’s so embarrassing. I don’t.”

“This is my one and only night at the luna park, and I want to go on all the rides.”

“We could do other stuff. Tell me what you want.” He would make more love to her tonight, condom or no condom.

“To feel you in me, on me,” Dafna answered.

She was killing him.

Author Bio:

Mia Sivan is an Israeli woman who lives, works and loves in Tel Aviv. The city is as much a part of her books as any other character.

Mia has worked as a senior investment manager for many years, and the books she writes draws much from her personal experience, as well as real-life scams that took place in the Israeli financial market.

When not writing or dreaming up steamy scenes, she lives with her handsome husband and even handsomer two sons, and enjoys long walks by the beach (it’s Tel Aviv, it’s never too cold).

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King of Nothing Book Blitz

King of Nothing
Paula Dombrowiak
(Kingmaker Series, #1)
Publication date: March 12th 2024
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

I’m not the sort of girl you take home to meet your parents.

But our marriage of convenience is the perfect revenge…

I find Darren Walker drowning himself in expensive whiskey. Young, handsome, and educated, he’s the playboy son of a U.S. Senator, and his father’s sudden death has hit him harder than expected.

When he offers me millions of dollars to marry him, I want to tell him that I can’t be bought.

But of course, that’s not true, and Darren is prepared to play dirty.

He’s made it his life’s mission to squander his potential in order to avoid living in his father’s shadow. But if he wants to see even one cent of his trust fund, he needs a wife. And not just any wife will do.

Ours will purely be a marriage of convenience, and I’m going to be his final, perfect revenge.

My name is Evangeline Bowen, and I’m an escort to the rich and powerful. But soon I’ll be the wife of a Senator’s son, who thinks he knows all my dark secrets.

All of them, except for one…

King of Nothing is the first book in The Kingmaker trilogy, a steamy marriage of convenience romance full of political scandal. The books must be read in order for the best reader experience.

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EXCERPT:

“Your parents are dead, and you trash a hotel room.” His blue eyes look past me as he adds on, “And apparently fuck hookers.”

I follow his gaze to see Evangeline coming from the bedroom, her hair still wet and dripping onto her shoulders while she holds her shoes.

“What makes you think I’m a hooker?” she asks as she slips on her heels.

Rausch assesses her carefully, his mouth pressed firmly in a tight line. “An educated guess.”

“Jesus Christ, Darren. Do you know how much this will cost to fix?” Rausch gestures dramatically to the trashed room. I notice the TV mounted on the wall is cracked, and I just now remember that I hit it on my way out of the room last night, looking down at my knuckles to notice the bruises only just now.

“Just have the hotel send me the bill.”

“Money is not going to fix this,” Rausch yells, “especially when you don’t have any.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

Alistair straightens. “Can we just calm down?”

“I don’t think either of you fuckups really understand the gravity of the situation,” Rausch spits, pinching his eyebrows as if he’s talking to two disorderly students instead of two grown men. “Your parents are dead, and not only is that a difficult situation for Congress, but it also means your money – your parent’s money,” he makes a point to say, “is tied up in probate.”

“Can you – just stop saying that?” I throw my hands up.

“That your parents are dead? No, because the sooner you wake up and join reality, the better.”

“What do you mean, there’s no money?”

“The money is locked up in probate.”

“What the fuck do you mean, probate?” I question, staring at Rausch with my chest heaving.

“You went to law school; did they not teach you about probate law?” Rausch doesn’t rattle easily, that’s why he got the reputation he has. Unbreakable, formidable, and effective – The Kingmaker.

Of course I know about probate law, and that means my parents money could be frozen anywhere from six months to two years.

I’m mad at Rausch for being the only one I have right now. I’m mad at myself for being such a fuckup. I’m mad at the pilot for crashing the helicopter. I’m mad that I feel anything.

“Is that what you think I’m worried about?” I ask him.

“You have worried about no one else but yourself, Darren, your whole life,” Rausch lectures. “What do you think your mother would say if she saw you right now?” His eyes travel south, and then over to Evangeline, who is still standing next to me, eyeing the exit that is still blocked by the security guard.

“This is what I’m talking about.” Rausch points to the overturned table. “It’s exactly why your parents put stipulations in their wills.”

I pull on the shorts and toss my hair out of my eyes. “Stipulations?” I ask, cautiously.

“Yes, Darren. If you weren’t being such a fucking child, you would listen to me,” Rausch continues, and he’s right. I don’t want to listen to him, but he has me in a stranglehold right now, like a boa constrictor around my neck. Worse yet, he knows it.

My father rarely discussed business with me, and he certainly didn’t make me privy to his will or his wishes, should something happen to him. He certainly wasn’t anticipating dying in a helicopter crash with my mom and leaving me alone to figure things out.

When I look at Rausch I take that back, because my father did anticipate such things, he just put Rausch in charge—not me. He never would have trusted me to handle his estate. Right now, I’m at Rausch’s mercy, so I keep my mouth shut while the anger burns through me.

“You don’t get any money until you’re thirty years old,” Rausch says, and then after a dramatic pause, adds, “or married.”

Jesus fuck!

He’ll make me beg, give me condescending lectures, and torture me for the next three fucking years. My heart sinks into my stomach, and Rausch can see it all on my face – the realization that he owns me. A satisfied smirk appears on his mouth.

Perhaps if I had been the good son, stayed out of trouble, listened to him more, prayed at the altar of Emerson, who he loved so fucking much, maybe then he wouldn’t have put Rausch in charge of his affairs.

I narrow my eyes at Rausch because I’ve never been known to back down from a fight, and I still have skin in this game. It’s an impulsive move, but dire situations require dire action. I grab Evangeline, pulling her to my side. “Well, isn’t it convenient that my fiancĂ©e is right here?”


Author Bio:

Paula Dombrowiak grew up in the suburbs of Chicago, Illinois but currently lives in Arizona. She is the author of Blood and Bone, her first adult romance novel which combines her love of music and imperfect relationships. Paula is a lifelong music junkie, whose wardrobe consists of band T-shirts and leggings which are perpetually covered in pet hair. She is a sucker for a redeemable villain, bad boys, and the tragically flawed. Music inspires her storytelling.

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Friday, March 15, 2024

The Helping Hand

 

The Helping Heart
Annie M. Ballard
(Sisters of Stella Mare, #4)
Publication date: March 15th 2024
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Women’s Fiction

Helen comes home and everything should be wonderful. Even if she’s returning due to a divorce. But there is more…

The Madison sisters, once close, are suddenly alienated as oldest Helen returns to Stella Mare. Her desire to help everyone includes keeping them at a distance, so her own secrets stay private. Her plan backfires, making her persona non grata and upsetting her father. To keep the peace with Dad, she suggests a group activity: the four sisters will hike the Fundy Footpath, an iconic and challenging backpacking trip along the Bay of Fundy. Why not? They’re young, they’re strong, and besides, they’re Madisons.

Despite each sister’s reservations, the desire to reconnect pulls them into this adventure. The hike is arduous and not for the faint of heart. Daunting cliffs, deep forests, rushing rivers and unpredictable tides accompany the gorgeous views, stunning sunrises, and the sheer power of nature. The challenges, though shared, fracture things further, and even Helen’s campfire confession doesn’t heal the breach. But when crisis happens, Helen is called to rise to the occasion and be the sister they need her to be.

Returning to Stella Mare was hard. Regaining her place in the family was harder. Come home to Stella Mare with Helen, as she, Rett, Evie and Dorie learn once again how to be sisters.

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EXCERPT:

“Time to burn some of those calories,” Helen called out. “Let’s get going.”

Evie cast her a curious gaze. “Is there something we’re hurrying for? You should let us know, Helen.”

She narrowed her eyes. “We need to get going. We’re like sitting ducks here.”

Rett laughed. “We’re nobody’s target. We started early, we already did the tidal crossings, so we are not worried about tides right now, and we have time to take a break if somebody is vomiting. Really.”

Helen shook her head and walked away toward the tree line. Where was that wolf? And why couldn’t her sisters take direction?

Annoyed, she kept gazing into the woods, though she kept an ear tuned toward the conversations behind her. Soon enough, everybody got ready to go again, and Evie called to her. “We’re all set, Helen.” She huffed a little as she headed back, chin held high.

Evie started off beside Dorie, the two easily chatting. Rett waited for Helen. “Tone it down a bit,” she advised.

“Are you bitching about me, too?” Helen snapped.

“Like that,” Rett said noncommittally. “Take it down a notch.”

“You’re so helpful,” she sniped. “Like anybody even notices me.”

“Everybody notices you.” Rett’s tone was correcting. “Especially when you’re being a royal pain in the neck. Tone it down. Nobody’s here to make a fool of you.”

Helen, shocked, took the impact of those words on her chest. Nobody’s here to make a fool of you. She had nothing to say.

Rett nudged her with an elbow. “Come on. Let’s make it a good day for a hike.”

She nodded tightly and followed.

Hiking made her brain run faster. Rett’s words rang in her memory. Nobody’s here to make a fool of you, Helen.

I don’t need anyone to do that. I’ve done it myself, more than once. A lot more than once.

Despite her tired body, her mind was super-charged as thoughts, memories and feelings flooded her. She couldn’t outrace them, and even the challenging terrain didn’t distract her, though after a series of switchbacks, landing at the brook felt like an accomplishment. Or at least a break from her thoughts.

Author Bio:

Annie M. Ballard writes about women and family ties in the small villages that feel like home. With one foot in the Canadian Maritimes and the other in New England, she digs deep into the lives of her characters. When she’s not writing, she’s happily baking, gardening, powerlifting and trying to make friends with every dog in her neighbourhood.

Annie’s stories include strong women living real lives, good men trying to do better, and always a happy ending.

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Tuesday, March 12, 2024

Handsome Devil

 

Handsome Devil
Delaney Diamond
(Quicksand, #7)
Publication date: February 29th 2024
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

They might both get what they want in this marriage of convenience—if they don’t kill each other first.

Annabelle Buchanan waltzes into Dante Escarra’s office with a singular goal—to persuade him to accept her audacious one-year marriage proposal. Her objective? Taking control of her father’s real estate empire. But Dante is her ex-husband, and their past is littered with hurt and anger.

Dante never once contemplated reuniting with Annabelle, because she broke his heart and left him devastated years ago. But her offer is a tantalizing chance to add an iconic Houston building to his real estate portfolio—a prize he covets more than he’s willing to admit.

As they pursue their respective goals, the lines between business and heart blur. Can they make their marriage work the second time around, or will they both end up with broken hearts—again?

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EXCERPT:

“You came here for a reason. What do you want?”

“You should take a seat for this,” Annabelle said, waving toward his leather chair. She spoke in a lowered voice. Her seduction voice—low and throaty and bringing back memories that lashed his skin with heat.

His eyes narrowed in distrust. “Why do I need to sit down?”

“I’m not sure you’ll like what I’m about to say.” She gave a careless, one-shoulder shrug.

“Tell me so we can get this meeting over with, and I can go back to more important tasks, like practicing my golf swing.” He glanced at the Patel Philippe watch on his wrist. “You have sixty seconds to explain why you’re here, and then I’m calling security to escort you out.”

She let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. I have a proposition for you.”

“I cannot wait to hear it,” Dante said in a dry voice.

Another fake smile. “My father plans to step down as the CEO of Buchanan & Buchanan within the next few months.”

“Time is ticking. You have twenty-seven seconds.”

“Be patient, darling. I promise you’ll want to hear this,” she said, strolling over to the bar where he kept beverages for guests. She poured herself a glass of water and took a sip before turning to face him.

“Seventeen seconds.”

Annabelle arched an eyebrow. “When he steps down, he plans to recommend a merger to the board—a merger with his friend’s company, Strong Technology, Inc. They’re a privately owned firm specializing in smart home technology to modernize residential properties and make them more efficient. Daddy has threatened to go through with this merger for years.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Dante tapped his watch as a reminder.

“Nothing, directly.” Annabelle finished the water and carefully placed the glass on a silver tray atop the bar. “Except for the proposition I mentioned. Instead of merging the companies and having Albert Strong take over as CEO, I want Daddy to recommend me as CEO to the board, but unfortunately, he won’t because of his traditional values.”

A brief flash of pain zipped across her eyes, so fast he almost missed the emotion.

“That’s your problem. Again, what does your father’s decision have to do with me?”

She looked him squarely in the eyes. The haughty indifference disappeared, and a tough negotiator took its place. “My father admires and respects you. He thinks you’re a great businessman because of all you’ve accomplished in the ten years since our divorce. You’ve made quite a splash in the commercial real estate market. Therefore, my proposition is simple. I want to take over my father’s company, and I need you to help me make that happen. I’m proposing that you and I remarry.”

Dante cocked his head toward her in disbelief. “Excuse me, I misunderstood what you said. My English is not so good.”

“Your English is excellent. Probably better than mine at this point, so I know you understood perfectly what I said. I’m suggesting we get married again—a marriage of convenience, if you will. A mutually beneficial arrangement for both parties, you and me. My father will be happy to have you back in the family because he did like you, and now he has newfound respect for you thanks to all your accomplishments. Based on a conversation we had, I’m convinced he would recommend me for the CEO position if he thought you’d be involved in helping me with B&B, as needed. Our marriage would be temporary. Sometime after I take the reins of the company, you and I will have an amicable divorce. Not right away, of course. We want our reunion to be believable, but we simply split because we couldn’t make our marriage work for a second time.”

Dante folded his arms over his chest. Unbelievable.

“Your plan is to remarry and trick your father into believing you and I are happily married, so he will hand over the company to you when he steps down? That’s your plan?”

She smiled brilliantly. “Yes.”

“Ah querida, t’eres loca,” Dante said.

Then he burst out laughing.


Author Bio:

Delaney Diamond is the USA Today Bestselling Author of black romance and interracial romance in the contemporary romance and romantic suspense genres. She reads romance novels, mysteries, thrillers, and a fair amount of nonfiction. When she’s not busy reading or writing, she’s in the kitchen trying out new recipes, dining at one of her favorite restaurants, or traveling to an interesting locale. To get sneak peeks, notices of sale prices, and find out about new releases, visit her website and join her mailing list. Enjoy free stories on her website at www.delaneydiamond.com.

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If You Loved Me

 

If You Loved Me
Brianna Remus
Publication date: April 26th 2024
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

My parents would lose their minds if they found out their precious daughter lost her virginity to the town’s notorious bad boy and ex-convict.
Ranger Adams might have been a dangerous pariah after he was released from prison, but he was the only man I wanted. And after I convinced him to take me on a date, I got exactly what my body…and heart desired.
I spent my entire life trying to get away from my parents’ overbearing grasp. They’ve tried to control every part of my life, even down to the man I was supposed to marry. That was the price of being born into one of the South’s richest families.
The second I had a chance to get away, I did. Ten years of pissing them off and making my dreams come true was worth the sacrifice. No fun. No relationships. And no sex.
My life had been all work until Ranger came back into town. Everyone whispered about what he’d done to land in prison. But I didn’t care.
He was rough around the edges, wild, and free.
And I wanted every bit of what he was willing to give me.


Author Bio:

Brianna Remus is a Florida-based author who lives with her husband, three pups, and terrorizing cat. She started her writing journey in 2016 to ward off the woes of graduate school. The light-hearted hobby quickly turned into a passion filled dream that consistently distracts her from the real world.

When Brianna isn't working as a psychology resident or writing books, you can find her getting lost in the worlds created by others (through writing and movies), spending a day at the ocean, or taking a walk in the forest. She loves to spend her days outdoors surrounded by the beauties of nature.

A true Tolkien nerd, she also spends a lot of her time immersed in Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, as well as praying that Amazon doesn't completely fuck up the new LOTR series.

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Saturday, March 9, 2024

The Forger and The Duke Book Blitz

 

The Forger and the Duke
Misty Urban
(Ladies Least Likely, #2)
Publication date: March 5th 2024
Genres: Adult, Historical, Romance

In 1776 London, orphaned vicar’s daughter Amaranthe Illingworth supports her small household with her skills as a copyist, but her quiet routine is shattered the day three children show up at her door seeking aid from her brother, their tutor. Behind them storms in Malden Grey, would-be barrister and their erstwhile guardian, who accuses Amaranthe of kidnapping the young Duke of Hunsdon and his siblings.

The former duke’s illegitimate son, Malden Grey has learned to live by his wits, and he’s told he’ll advance to the bar if he takes a proper wife. As she helps him restore order at Hunsdon House, Amaranthe seems a likely candidate—if only Mal can unearth the truth behind the rumors that she’s been forging, and selling, priceless medieval manuscripts. Amaranthe, in the meantime, needs to stay on her guard lest the charming Malden Grey steal her heart at the same time she’s hoping to borrow from his library a priceless book that could make her fortune.

But when Mal’s foray into Amaranthe’s past yields a discovery that will change both of their destinies, they’ll have to fight together to clear their names and stake out a future together—if either has a future at all.

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EXCERPT:

She set the portrait gently in its place. Mal battled the impulse to take those cool, capable fingers and press them against his aching head.

“And where is your mother now?” Her steady, fathomless gaze rested on him.

“She died when I was young.” Dear Lord, he was becoming sentimental. He pushed the weakness aside. “You are coming to know a great deal about us, Miss Illingworth, and I know very little about you.”

Her eyes crinkled as she smiled widely, and Mal cast about for breath. “We have not even been properly introduced.”

“Malden Grey of Bristol, aspiring to the bar.” He held out his hand.

“Malden,” she said, and a silken quality in her voice made him shudder, as did the slide of her fingers as she placed them in his.

“You haven’t told me your name.” His voice roughed his chest.

“Miss Amaranthe Illingworth of St. Cleer, Cornwall. My father was very fond of classical antiquity, so he chose a Greek name for me.” She held the volume of housekeeper’s accounts close to her chest, like a shield.

He sat back. She appeared completely unconcerned to learn he was a bastard, the status he wore like a brand on his forehead, marking him as less than, as lacking.

She rose, and he scrambled to his feet. Very neatly she placed her glass on the shelf beneath the decanter. Her eyes traced the figurines above, all of them representing mythological half-women with breasts prominently displayed.

“They’re not mine,” Mal said.

That small, maddening smile quirked her lips again. “No, they are young Hunsdon’s now, I imagine. I’ve seen this and worse among some of the medieval marginalia I’ve copied, Mr. Grey. You wouldn’t believe some of the grotesques those monks could dream up. I suppose it comes from being locked away day after day with no company but other men.”

That was his problem as well, Mal decided. Too much time in the company of other men. That was why she riled his senses so potently.

He moved around the desk toward her as she stepped away. “I can drive you tomorrow. When you make inquiries about hiring servants. What time shall I bring the carriage round?”

She hesitated, and her face went studiously blank. A slither across the back of his neck told him this was the expression she assumed when she was withholding something. He was beginning to recognize it.

“Eyde made up a room for me here,” she said. “Do you mind?”

“Of course not. There are dozens of rooms.” Or so he thought. Hunsdon House was not his, as nothing about the Hunsdon estate was to be his—not even the family name—and so he’d never let much of it occupy his attention.

Mal wondered which room Miss Illingworth would select for her own. Did she see her silk-smooth skin as best set off by the draperies in the Blue Room? Would she choose the Oriental patterns of the Jade Room? Or would she, like an empress of old, demand the royal purple? He imagined her nearby in the house going about her nightly routine, taking down her hair, drawing off her prim robe, perhaps splashing water onto her face that would run down that softly stern neck to the collarbones hidden beneath her gown and—

He’d best stop imagining Miss Illingworth at her ablutions. He was about to embarrass himself.

“Till tomorrow then, Miss Illingworth.” Had she said he could call her Amaranthe? He wanted to roll the name over his tongue. It was exotic, yet robust. A name with command and presence, much like the woman.

Good Lord! That brandy had turned his wits. He was behaving like a moonstruck calf. No, worse.

“Till tomorrow,” she said softly, and her gaze held his. The flickering candlelight brought out violet shadows in her eyes, and all the air left Mal’s body. He wanted to be found worthy of that calm, assessing gaze.

There was no way she would ever find him worthy.

The door shut behind her, and Mal smacked a hand to his head to clear it. He’d best bring himself in order. They had business to conduct. Problems to solve.

She had secrets he wanted very much to discover.

He had gotten his first good look at Miss Amaranthe Illingworth. He wanted a second. And a third.

Author Bio:

Misty Urban is a medieval scholar, freelance editor, and college professor who likes to write stories about misbehaving women who find adventure and romance. She holds an MFA and Ph.D. from Cornell University and lives in the Midwest in a little town on a big river.

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Thursday, March 7, 2024

The Thief of Time Cover Reveal

 

Today Vivi Barnes, Christina Farley, and Amy Christine Parker and Rockstar Book Tours are revealing the cover for THE THIEF OF TIME, their new middle grade contemporary fantasy book which releases May 7, 2024! Check out the awesome cover and enter the giveaway!

 

On to the reveal!

About The Book:

Title: THE THIEF OF TIME (The Library of Alexandria Series #1)

Author: Vivi Barnes, Christina Farley, and Amy Christine Parker

Pub. Date: May 7, 2024

Publisher: Infinity House Creative

Formats:  Hardcover, Paperback, eBook

Pages: 312

Find it: GoodreadsAmazon 

The Thief of Time is a thrilling contemporary fantasy that will steal your breath away. Chock full of complex world building and magic that springs from the power of story, this book will definitely keep young readers turning pages.”—Polly Holyoke, Award-winning author

Unleash the Magic…

THE THIEF OF TIME is an exciting middle-grade contemporary fantasy adventure that takes readers on a thrilling journey through the realms of magic, friendship, and self-discovery.

On a visit to their local library, Ben, Bridgette, and Maya unwittingly unleash a dragon from an ancient book and find themselves fighting for their lives against a swarm of evil birds. They battle to escape with the help of the dragon and are whisked through a portal into the magical Great Library of Alexandria.

Once they pass the Trials and prove themselves worthy, they are invited to become students at Helicon Academy. There they train to become librarians for the Library of Alexandria, protecting books and the magical artifacts within.

Ben, Bridgette, and Maya fall in love with the story-themed dinners, fantastical animals, and fictional characters roaming the halls. But when they discover a dark and sinister mystery within the academy’s halls, the three must embark on a quest to protect the library and preserve the fabric of time itself.

 

REVIEWS:

"Every so often, you read a book with a fictional place that is so full of magic and so full of wonder that you want to live there forever -- the library in The Thief of Time is such a place. You're in for a treat!" —Sarah Beth Durst, award-winning author of Spark

 

What a ride! The Thief of Time whisks readers from the immortal Library of Alexandria to adventures across the globe. Maya, Ben, and Bridgette kept me reading to the very end! —Sarah McGuire, author of Flight of Swans and Valiant

 

We all know books are magic, but in The Thief of Time, they are beyond our expectations! This adventure jumps right in with our protagonists facing an adventure, both physically and mentally, unlike any other I've read. Fans of Land of Stories and magical school books are going to devour this new twist on what it means to truly get into a book. —Kellee Moye, librarian

 

 

Excerpt:

Chapter 1

Polly Definitely Doesn’t Want a Cracker

Ben

The first weird thing Ben noticed was the birds. 

Clustered in bushes around the front of the library, they watched with unblinking beady red eyes as he made his way up the steps. 

“To be, or not to be…gone!” he said loudly, clapping his hands at a pair that was preening on the steps in front of the door. They hopped only a few inches away and fixed Ben with a baleful stare.

Ben shook his head. Here he was, quoting Hamlet at creepy birds and returning an almost-overdue book on a Friday night when there were probably ten end-of-summer parties going on—or at least two that he was invited to. 

He yanked the door open and stepped inside. Mr. Lozano, who’d been the town librarian ever since Ben could remember, was scanning barcodes from a tall stack of books.  

“Hey, Mr. Lozano.” Ben slid his book across the counter. 

Mr. Lozano caught the book and added it to the stack. “Just under the wire, Benjamin. Your dad wouldn’t be happy to come pay another late fee.” 

“I know.”

Mr. Lozano picked up a magnifying glass to peer at the book. With the plaid bow tie and pencil mustache, Ben thought he looked more like a Scotland Yard detective than a librarian. 

Mr. Lozano peeled off the outside cover that was titled “Practical Science.” Ben inwardly groaned. He meant to remove that before returning it. Underneath the cover was a copy of Shakespeare’s Hamlet.

Mr. Lozano sighed. “Your father still giving you a hard time?”

Ben shrugged. His father was a surgeon and thought Ben should be studying math and science, not “farting around with theater and poetry,” as he liked to say. It was just easier for Ben to pretend he was more scientific than he was.

His mom would’ve understood him better. Not a day went by where he didn’t think about her and wish she was with him again, reading Shakespeare’s sonnets like she did when he was little. The gentle lilt of her voice always lulled him to sleep.  

“I know what you’re going to say,” Ben said. “I’ll talk to him again, and—”

“Mr. Lozano, that astronomy book isn’t here,” a girl announced as she walked up and set a stack of books on the counter. She looked familiar, maybe from school. She wore an old Texas Rangers baseball T-shirt and had a short mop of auburn curls, pale skin, and thick round glasses that made her green eyes seem extra-large. 

She shrugged her oversized military-looking green backpack off her shoulders and plopped it on the counter next to the books. “It was due five days ago. I’ve been on the waiting list forever.” 

“I’m sorry, Bridgette. I’m sure the person will bring it back soon.” Mr. Lozano glanced at the clock over the desk. “Unfortunately, the library’s closing so I can’t help you find something else right now.”

“Can’t you call them? Fill out a police report or something?”

“Excuse me.” Someone with two long dark braids squeezed between Ben and Bridgette, her hands cupped around a small ball of fur. A volunteer badge was clipped to the sleeve of her light blue shirt. “Mr. Lozano, I think Griffin’s sick. I’m really worried about him.” 

This girl Ben knew. Everyone knew Maya Friedman, who moved here last summer from Israel and within a month of their sixth-grade year became one of the most popular kids at Harrison Middle. Her braids had kind of become her trademark. Ben hated to admit he was jealous, but no matter how many times he’d styled his sandy blond hair or even dyed it, he’d failed to get a trademark “look.” This girl showed up with two long braids and perfectly tanned olive skin and everyone was like whoooooaaaa. 

“Who’s Griffin?” Ben asked.

“One of the library’s animals.” She held up a small ball of brown fluff. “Does he look a little lethargic to you?” 

Bridgette shrank away. “Keep it away!”

Maya pulled it to her chest protectively. “He’s just a little guinea pig. He won’t hurt you.”

“I know.” Bridgette pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Its scientific name is Cavia porcellus.” Her face flushed as Ben stared at her. “I read a lot.”

“Poor Griffin,” Maya cooed to the ball of fluff. “That girl didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” 

Bridgette frowned. “I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings. I’ve just never been near one before.” She reached out and awkwardly patted its tiny head with one finger. “Good boy.”

Maya smiled at her, then glanced at Ben. “I think I know you from English class. Ben, right?” 

Ben nodded. “You’re Maya.”

“And I’m Bridgette,” Bridgette said from the other side of Maya. “I mean, if anyone wanted to know,” she added softly. 

“No one wants to know,” another voice piped in.

Ben cringed as the awful Davey Singleton swaggered over with a group of his friends. Davey had been Ben’s nemesis ever since Ben was cast as the lead in the third-grade rendition of A Midsummer Night’s Dream and ended up with a terrible case of stage fright, puking all over a kid in a tree costume. Davey took over the role for the rest of the show and still delighted in tormenting Ben about it. Worse, he seemed to beat out Ben for every lead role since then.

“Awww look, it’s Shakesfear,” Davey said. “Library’s closing, Shakesfear. Go barf somewhere else.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “Hang in there, Davey. One day, maybe you’ll actually come up with something original.”

“Hey, Maya, you going to Drew’s party?” one of the girls in the group asked. “Davey’s ditching but you should come.”

Maya brightened. “Sure, after I close up here.”

“And, um, change shoes?” the girl said as she stared at Maya’s scuffed black combat boots. “Where’d you get those?”

Maya’s face reddened. “My aunt gave them to me when we left Israel.”

Ben got the feeling she never wore those boots in front of her friends.

“Sorry, you’re not invited,” the girl said to Bridgette as she and her friends walked out the door, laughing.

“Like I was interested anyway,” Bridgette mumbled, looking away.

“Lozano, we have to leave,” Davey said. “When are you going to kick these nobodies out of here?” He pushed through the half-door of the counter and came back with a brown leather suitcase.

“Where are you going?” Ben asked.

“None of your business.”

“We’re fine, we’re fine.” Mr. Lozano glanced again at the clock. “We have ten minutes.” He nodded at Ben, Bridgette, and Maya. “You kids head home now. Library is closed. Maya, thank you for taking such great care of the animals. And Bridgette, tomorrow maybe I can help—"

A loud crack sounded outside of the library. Everyone jumped. Bridgette squealed and pushed closer to Ben, who was rubbing his ringing ears.

“What was that?” Maya said, cradling the chirping Griffin close.

“Lightning?” Ben suggested.

“It’s not even raining,” Bridgette pointed out.

“Quiet.” Lozano held up a hand, frowning. 

Something dark moved against the frosted glass of the front door. Ben heard tiny scratching and tapping noises, which got louder and louder until it sounded like hundreds of birds were trying to claw their way through the door. 

Ben covered his ears, his heart leaping into his throat as the birds shrieked and screamed.

Mr. Lozano yanked open the door to the circulation desk. “Everyone, get behind the counter.” 

“Don’t have to tell me twice!” Davey pushed through the opening, almost knocking Bridgette over with his suitcase. 

Another crash sounded at the door and more dark figures shot past the frosted windowpane, bird silhouettes with feathers and crooked bills that almost looked like creepy noses. 

The door wobbled and shook as if someone was trying to get inside but didn’t know how to use the handle.

Mr. Lozano yelled into his phone, “They’re here! I don’t know how. We need an R.E.R. team now!”

He gestured to Ben and the others. “Gather round and take hands. Now.”

More banging at the door. Davey kept his hands on his suitcase. Bridgette grabbed Ben’s hand, her eyes wide with fear. He squeezed hers with a reassurance he didn’t really feel and felt Maya take his other one. He really hoped his palms weren’t sweaty.

Lozano glanced at the clock. “Hold on. And…now!”

Everyone watched as Mr. Lozano stepped one foot into the empty wastebasket next to the wall. 

And waited. 

Mr. Lozano pulled his foot out of the basket, then stepped in again. And again. 

Ben cleared his voice. “Um, Mr. Lozano, you okay?”

The librarian grabbed the phone, beads of sweat breaking out across his forehead. “It isn’t working. We need a car!”

With a loud smash, the glass in the door shattered, and large black birds with creepy red eyes started clawing their way through the window with long, almost fingerlike talons. Ben yelped and Bridgette screamed.

“Into my office!” Lozano yelled as a flurry of black feathers cascaded over them. “I’ll handle this.”

The kids scrambled into Mr. Lozano’s office and slammed the door behind them as birds thumped against its frosted glass. A single black feather floated in. Ben grabbed it and shoved it in his pocket. “That’s one less feather you’ll have to fight with,” he yelled at the door, not caring how weird he sounded. This whole thing was terrifyingly weird.

Ben turned around, realizing he’d never been in Lozano’s office before. It was like something from another century—old bookshelves, weird telescope-looking things, and ancient leather-bound books piled on a table. A low humming sound seemed to be coming from them. Ben rubbed his ears. 

Screeching from right outside the office made Ben forget all about the humming. The birds hurled against the window. Thump! Thump! Thump! The glass started to crack. 

“We need to hide.” Bridgette yanked her backpack onto her shoulders. 

“Behind there!” Ben ran to the heavy oak desk on the far wall. Bridgette and Maya followed. 

Davey crouched behind a plush chair near the door, clutching his suitcase. “Make them go away,” he whimpered.

A crash sounded on the other side of the door. Ben clamped his eyes shut, hoping Mr. Lozano was okay. 

“Griffin!” Maya cried out.

Ben opened his eyes to see the guinea pig running at top speed toward a crack in the wall. Maya started after him, but Ben grabbed her arm. “He’ll be fine. We need to stay together.”

The square glass window in the door shattered. Davey threw his hands over his head as the birds flew directly at him. His screams pierced the air. Ben gritted his teeth together. No matter how awful Davey was, Ben couldn’t just hide like a coward while birds were trying to kill him. This wasn’t a third-grade play. This was real.

“We have to help him. Distract the birds,” Ben told Maya and Bridgette. 

“How?” cried Bridgette. “It’s not like we have bird seed.”

“Hey!” Maya called out, standing up and waving her arms. 

“What are you doing?” Bridgette yelled at her as birds flew toward them. 

Ben crawled across the floor to Davey, where a bird was flapping over his head, poking him with its beak. He grabbed Davey’s suitcase and threw it at the bird. The bird dodged it, shrieking.

“Hey, that’s expensive,” Davey cried out. 

“So’s our lives!” Ben yelled as more birds converged around them. He grasped for the nearest book, an ancient one with a dragon etched into the leather and the imprint of a harp-looking instrument stamped on it. Ben flung it at the birds. The book landed with a thud on the ground, open. 

Everything went completely still. 

A gust of wind whooshed through the broken window and caught the pages, turning them fast and then faster. The humming he heard earlier grew louder in his ears. Ben gasped as sparks flew out of the pages like sparklers on the Fourth of July.

A column of fire-red flame shot up from the book. Something huge, red, and terrifying burst from the center of it.

 

 

 

About Vivi Barnes, Christina Farley, and Amy Christine Parker:

Vivi Barnes, Christina Farley, and Amy Christine Parker are best friends who bonded over their love of telling stories and going on adventures. They live in sunny Central Florida with their families, where inspiration is just a beach day away.

 

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Tuesday, March 5, 2024

Rise of The Melody Release Day Blitz

 

I am so excited that RISE OF THE MELODY by Wendy Higgins is available now and that I get to share the news!

If you haven’t yet heard about this wonderful book, be sure to check out all the details below.

This blitz also includes a giveaway for a signed copy of the book & swag courtesy of Wendy & Rockstar Book Tours. So if you’d like a chance to win, check out the giveaway info below.

 

About The Book:

Title: RISE OF THE MELODY

Author: Wendy Higgins

Pub. Date: March 5, 2024

Publisher: Wendy Higgins

Formats:  Paperback, eBook

Pages: 290

Find it: Goodreadshttps://books2read.com/RISE-OF-THE-MELODY 

From the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the YA paranormal Sweet Evil series comes a modern fantasy romance of mystery with Celtic and Gaelic mythology.

Seventeen-year-old Colette “Letty” MacIntyre has everything going for her: a great life with her Aunt Lorna in Brooklyn, a promising singing career, and enough distractions to forget the tragic disappearance of her parents. She’s banking on a bright future in the city until strange things begin to happen. People are suddenly having peculiar reactions to her singing voice, and a giant wolfhound starts following her like a lost puppy. But the cherry on top is when the mayor of her long-forgotten birthplace, Shehan, a mountainous island off the craggy northern coast of Maine, shows up on her doorstep with an impossible revelation. The Gaelic folklore she grew up hearing is real. Letty is the last land siren on Earth…and he needs her help.

An escaped kelpie—a monstrous water horse—is terrorizing Shehan, and Letty’s voice is the only thing that can stop it. Despite the shock at learning her heritage, Letty returns to the island, which is filled with as much mystery as it is fog. She wants answers to her parents’ disappearance as well as a chance to prove herself. But in a race of mighty druids and formidable Scottish witches, Letty’s power is an anomaly, feared and reviled by the mystic community. Her lineage must be kept secret. It becomes even harder to fulfil these tasks when a new enemy threatens her—an alluring, powerful druid boy filled with darkness who would just as soon kill her as kiss her.

Will her deadly melody be enough to save the town and herself?

 

Excerpt:

Chapter One: Death of the Dress

I tipped my chin from side to side with my hand, feeling the satisfying cracks in my neck before shaking out my arms and meeting my instructor’s eyes. Mr. Goneley smirked with amusement as he sat at the piano in his office at my high school. I ignored the occasional muted blare of car horns from the city streets outside.

He adjusted his glasses. “Ready, Letty?”

I nodded and exhaled, though I wasn’t nervous, exactly. I’d had many in-person auditions and recitals in my life, and recently with college applications. I adjusted my silken blue choir gown. Normally I’d wear all black to match my eyeliner, nails, and dyed black hair. No black lips, though. Red all the way. And I wore my long hair in a series of intricate braids that the camera would probably not be able to capture. Oh, well.

“You’ve got this,” Mr. Goneley said. I granted him a smile. He’d helped me a lot, pushing me to apply to all the nearby musical schools for next year. This tape was for the final round of auditions with Manhattan School of Music, but Mr. Goneley had contacts in the theater world and had encouraged me to get a side job in a local theater this summer, despite my aunt’s insistence against it. A foot in the door. We’d use this video for that, as well.

“Here we go. Three, two….” He silently mouthed one as he pressed the record button on my propped phone and began to play. I closed my eyes and let everything else fall away except the notes floating up. It was a haunting, Gaelic inspired tune that I’d written myself to match my voice perfectly—smokey and breathy, yet rich. My voice was attuned to the slow, deep melody of long-ago ancestors, the hardships I could barely fathom.

Through the night, my fire bright

I wait for my sailor, nigh

I sit in the breeze, but my soul does not ease

As I wait for my lover, nigh

When I opened my eyes, I looked into the camera, willing it to hear every nuance. My arms moved of their own accord with the emotion of the song. As the notes rang from my throat a strange sensation came over me, like heat razing my skin. I’d never felt anything like that before while singing—a slight burn and tingle that only strengthened as I lost myself to the music. A sense of command filled me, and I embraced it.

Three weeks he’s been gone as I stare at the dawn

Awaiting my sailor, nigh

Powerful. That’s what I felt. Holy crap. Like I could do absolutely anything in that moment. Was the camera getting this?  

The sky has gone black, the thunder does crack

As I wait for my lover, nigh

It was that moment when I noticed Mr. Goneley sweating, moisture beading along his hairline and lip. It had been abnormally hot today in New York City for May, but not that hot. The AC was pumping overhead, yet he was grimacing. I closed my eyes again to force myself to concentrate on the rumble of reverberations in my throat.

When Mr. Goneley flubbed a note, I opened my eyes and wondered if he’d stop, but he kept going for another few seconds before pulling away from the keys and staring at me. His eyes looked blank and lost as he made a strange noise at the back of his throat. I wanted to scream in disappointment because that had been the best I’d ever sang in my entire life! Would I be able to do that again on the second take? He finally broke the weird stare and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, slumping. 

“Mr. G?” I said. “Are you okay?” 

“I…did you change anything?” he asked in a croaky voice.

“What?”

He shook his head and rubbed his chest with the heel of his hand. “With the song? I don’t know. Your voice is…” He cleared his throat and looked at me funny. “Different.”

“No,” I told him. “It was the same, but it did feel kind of different. Like, stronger. Did it sound bad?”

Again, his head shook back and forth, almost as if in confusion. “I’m not sure how to explain it. I think it must be me. I’m not feeling well all of a sudden.” He blinked up at me as his eyes began to clear, a nervous sounding chuckle escaping him. “I’m so sorry about this, but do you mind rescheduling?”

“Yeah,” I said, regret washing over me. “No problem. I hope you feel better.”

There was a strange, awkward tension in the room as I gathered my things and Mr. Goneley gave me a wide berth to leave. 

I swung my bag over my shoulder and walked quickly out of the school building, my purple boots hitting hard with each step on the Brooklyn sidewalks. A giant bird swooped down from the ledge of a window and I jumped, cursing as its wings lifted my hair for a second. Was that an eagle? I watched it dart skyward and tried to shake off the startled feeling. I didn’t have many wildlife encounters here in Brooklyn, other than pigeons and the occasional rat. I absently weaved through people, speed walking. Sweat ran down my back, probably soaking into the satiny material. 

Had I been singing too loud? It hadn’t felt like it. It felt like the best singing of my life, but clearly it had been terrible based on the bizarre look he gave me. Was I losing my touch? Panic flared because singing was my everything. The only thing I was good at. And even though Aunt Lorna had been begging me for years to focus on some other line of work, something more stable, I had to chase this dream. But what if I got home and watched the video and it was awful? If my singing had felt that good, but actually been horrible…oh, Gaia. I didn’t know what I’d do. 

I cut through a small park, the grass squishy under the soles of my boots. Usually there were couples picnicking on blankets and kids running around chasing bubbles, but it was barren. It was never this empty on beautiful afternoons, even during the week. Weird.

A burn of heat flashed across my skin as something huge and hairy stepped out from behind a crop of tall bushes, sending my heart into an erratic race. I stopped so fast at the massive sight that I tripped over my own feet and landed on my hands and knees. My head whipped up and I froze, holding my breath for a long beat before gasping.

A dog loomed over me. The largest dog I’d ever seen. Its face was long like an Irish hound with a shaggy dark body that appeared oddly greenish. I blinked. It was as round as a Saint Bernard, as tall as a small cow, and its silky tail twitched back and forth behind it. We stared at each other. Every fiber of my body wanted to run, but my mind screamed at me not to move. This giant mutt could, no doubt, take me down and maul my face with very little effort.

I glanced down and saw it was clearly male. With a hard swallow I whispered, “Good boy.”

He sniffed the air and lowered his head, stepping toward me almost cautiously. 

My survival instinct screamed to run but I stiffened every muscle. Don’t move, Letty.

The dog slowly sat and then lay before me, its huge paws inches from my hands, like it expected something from me. My heart rate began to slow enough to give me the nerve to move into a sitting position. I never took my eyes off him.

“Are you lost?” I whispered, feeling foolish talking to a dog. “Where’s your owner?” I searched around, but there was no one.

The dog huffed through its nose. Then he lifted a heavy paw and plopped it on my booted foot.

I couldn’t help but smile, though my insides still shook. “Okay. So, you’re friendly?” I let out a deep breath. When I climbed slowly to my feet, he did too. His head came to my chest. He definitely outweighed me, and I was no waif. 

My eyes scanned the park now. Literally nobody. Maybe if we walked around we’d find his owner. Taking slow steps, I began to loop the park, and the dog followed me. We passed a few people on the sidewalks now, who all took one look at the dog and steered clear. 

One woman scowled. “You need to have that thing on a leash! It’s the law!” 

“He’s not mine,” I tried to explain, but she scurried away.

After fifteen minutes of this, my need to get home and talk to Aunt Lorna was overpowering my need to find the dog’s owner. If I wasn’t in the middle of this singing crisis, I would have taken him to a veterinarian to check for a chip, but I didn’t have time for this. And the SPCA was all the way across town. New York was full of do-gooders who would happily take care of him. Right? Yeah….

“I’m sorry, boy,” I said to the dog, feeling silly that I needed to explain myself. “I have to go. Just stay right here until your owner comes back, okay? Or some nice person helps you.”

He cocked his head. Guilt was a stone in my gut as I turned and speed-walked away from him. Thirty seconds later his pitter-pattering paws and clickety-clacking claws sounded loudly behind me. I spun and held out my palm. “Oh, no you don’t. Stay. Stay.”

He wasn’t a very good listener. The dang dog followed me the whole five blocks to the shop. Ugh, Aunt Lorna was going to freak. Granted, she had four cats that lived at her work, but they added to the atmosphere of her witchy apothecary and gem shop. We’d never had an animal in our apartment. I stopped in front of Aunt Lorna’s shop, Moonlight Apothecary and Dispensary, which we lived two stories above. 

I caught sight of my reflection in the glass. My gown was officially ruined with the rip and grass stains from when I’d fallen. I’d had to save money to buy it for the state treble choir competition. 

Every single person eyed the dog warily as they passed. 

“Okay,” I told him. “You need to go. Go back to the park and find your people. Go on, shoo.” He sat and I sighed. He was going to scare customers away. I rolled my eyes and wished him luck as I went inside, certain he’d finally leave once I was gone.

Incense tickled my nose, and the gentle sounds of delta waves playing overhead immediately relaxed me. Stepping into the shop always transported me from overwhelming city into a fantastical, meditative space. I took a moment to peer around at the shelves of homemade vials of oils, soaps, and sage bunches. Displays of authentic crystals with a giant rose quartz in the center. Salt lamps. Potted plants hanging from the ceiling with their long vines spidering out like jungle fingers. A table of incenses dipped by my aunt and me. This shop was our sanctuary.

All around the room were cool framed pictures of drawings—depictions of Faerie queens and creatures from Celtic and Gaelic mythology that I’d grown up hearing about. Sea maidens and forest nymphs. Brownie house spirits. Selkies and kelpies, and of course Nessie, the Loch Ness monster. 

“Is that you, Letty?” my aunt called from the back room.

“Yes, it’s me.”

“Good news!” she hollered. “I found someone to watch the shop next week while I go to your graduation.”

“Cool,” I said, my mind still stuck on Mr. Goneley.

Aunt Lorna bustled in, and her pretty face lit up when she saw me. She pushed dirty blond curls out of her eyes and adjusted the quartz necklace around her neck. She often acted like a little old lady, but she wasn’t. She was just wise for her thirty-something years.

“What’s the matter?” Her gentle Scottish lilt from a childhood in the Highlands calmed me for a moment. Then the memory of Mr. Goneley assaulted me again and I cringed. She swished over in her long skirt, the bangles clinking on her wrists. Her eyebrows crashed together as she looked me over. “Why do you look like that? What happened to your dress? And you’re sweating—my gods, were you attacked?”

“No,” I tried to calm her as I reached up and felt my knotted, long locks. “Not exactly. It’s a long story. Something weird happened while I was singing.” At this, she went still, and her face shuttered closed, her lips pursing like they always did when it came to my singing. 

“What happened, Letty?” Gods, she didn’t need to look so severe.

“I’m not really sure,” I admitted. “But I got it on tape.”

I shouldn’t tell her all of this, considering how much she wanted me to find a different career path, but she was the only person I could talk to. I pulled out my phone with a shaking hand and started the video. When my voice first began, she sucked in a breath. And then her eyebrows crinkled. Her head began a small shake, and she took the phone from my hand to watch more closely. I crossed my arms, feeling nauseated as I recalled Mr. Goneley’s reaction. But my voice did sound great. Not to brag. It hadn’t been just a great performance in my mind. 

When it ended, Aunt Lorna’s lips were pressed tightly together as she passed the phone back to me. “I know you enjoy singing, Letty. And it’s been a wonderful hobby to have growing up—”

My heart dropped. “Auntie, don’t—”

“Enough!” She raised her voice over mine. “This is a fool’s errand! This path will be filled with heartache.” She seemed to struggle for words before saying, “Do you really want to be just another New York starving artist working as a waitress and facing disappointment after disappointment?”

My breath caught in my lungs. “Why don’t you believe I can do it?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe in you. It’s just unnecessary hardship, Letty! You can help me run this business, or any business. You’ve got an eye for detail and math. You’re smart.” 

Ugh, this again!

“I would be miserable!” I insisted. “And I’m more than happy to help you with the shop, but that’s your dream, not mine. I’m sorry if you don’t like it, but I’m going to sing, Aunt Lorna. It’s my gift.”

“I don’t think it’s what your parents would have wanted,” she blurted.

Her face turned ashen as my stomach twisted and burned with acid. My parents had disappeared on a whale-watching excursion when I was four. We rarely spoke of them. Her eyes looked full of both panic and shame.

“That’s not fair,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “You can’t know that.”

I watched, as if in slow motion, as my aunt’s face pinched in pain and she grabbed her temples, her knees buckling.

“Auntie!” I dropped my phone and grasped her upper arms, leading her to a velvet armchair to sit. She breathed heavily, a small whimper escaping. She’d suffered from headaches and migraines since I could remember, but this one looked more severe than normal. “You need to see a doctor. What if something’s really wrong?” I’d lost too much sleep worrying about brain tumors, but as usual, Aunt Lorna shook her head.

“No doctors. I’ve got it under control.”

I gritted my teeth in frustration. Yes, she was the most talented herbalist possibly ever, especially in the western world. People traveled to Moonlight Apothecary from all over to get her tinctures and homeopathic healing herbal mixtures when modern medicines and clinical chemicals didn’t work. I’d seen her work miracles like a modern-day witch doctor. She was a genius, but herbs could only go so far. If she would get an MRI at least we could know what the real problem was.

“I’m okay.” She sat taller and her forehead smoothed. “I’m sorry.” She met my eyes and there was regret there. “I shouldn’t have brought up your parents.”

I nodded, at a loss for words. Her erratic behavior and headaches were scaring me lately. My aunt had always been eccentric and special. I’d come to think of her as this magical sort of being, though I knew how unhinged that sounded. But I’d seen strange things as a child. Whenever I asked for explanations, Aunt Lorna always had some logical reason for the things I’d witnessed her do when she thought I wasn’t looking. A book sliding across the table to her waiting hand. One of her potions turning bright green, then bubbling down to a muddy brown as she chanted in Gaelic—literal miracles of near-death to life from her potions. Multiple candle wicks blowing out at the same time when there was zero air movement in the room. 

It had been a while since anything like that happened, so I chalked it up to fuzzy memories and childish wonderings.

After a moment, Aunt Lorna touched the ornate cuff on my wrist that she’d given me, turning it as if inspecting it. The underneath was a layer of salt, sulfur, and agate fused together and embedded onto dried fish leather. On the top was a layer of ammolite gemstone plating—iridescent red and green that looked like dragon scales. The cuff was said to provide protection and ward against evil. When she’d put it on me years ago, she’d spoken a line of Scots Gaelic as she sealed it shut with a glue substance. She was funny like that. Old pagan superstitions from when she’d grown up in the highlands of Scotland. To me, her Gaelic phrases sounded like spells, which would be apropos considering the amount of rare mystical texts and spell books she sold here. It was because of her that I said weird things like “gods” and “Gaia,” aka Mother Nature, the creator of faeries in folklore.

A sound came from the shop’s door.

Jeebus!” Aunt Lorna’s scream had both of us jumping. Her hands gripped the arms of the chair, and I followed her eyes. The giant dog stood there taking up the entire doorway staring at us through the glass. He had that greenish tint again. Had he rolled in moss or something gross?

Coo Shee!” she yelled. I’d never heard my aunt sound so terrified before. “Letty, hide!”

“Aunt Lorna, it’s okay!” I stood and motioned to the door. “It’s just a stray dog I found on my way home today. I know he’s scary looking but he’s actually really good and sweet.”

Suddenly the dog was pushing open the shop door with his body, and Aunt Lorna screamed again, grabbing me. We did a silly tug-of-war where she tried to pull me into the back room and I yanked back, trying to reassure her that everything was okay. The dog got close to us and sat down staring at us in that intent way of his. All four cats, which had been quietly resting in their various places, suddenly began a ruckus of hissing and screaming in a flurry of orange and black as they ran, scuttling and sliding along the tiled floor until they escaped through the doorway of dangling beads to the back room. The dog watched them with a tilted head, and I swore he appeared amused. 

“Good boy,” I said. “See, Auntie?” He took up a lot of space in her small shop.

She was gripping me hard, breathing erratically as she stared at it. “I’ve never…I’ve only heard…Gaia above. Did it—I mean, has he…barked?”

“What?” I thought about it. “No, he hasn’t made a sound the whole time I’ve been with him.”

She nodded and I saw her throat bob with a hard swallow. “That’s good. Very good then.” Slowly, she began to relax, still staring him down.

I told her the whole story. “He’s sort of attached himself to me. I don’t know why. I’m going to take some pictures of him and post them online. I’m sure his owners will be looking for him. Wouldn’t you think?”

Aunt Lorna never lost the look of worry. She pinched her upper nose and closed her eyes for a long moment of quiet.

“I’ve got some calls to make and things to do. I think I’ll close the shop an hour early today. Please….” She eyed the dog, then me. “Be careful. If he barks, run immediately.”

I laughed and she glared hard. “Run because of a bark?”

“I’m not messing about, Letty! Swear you’ll run.”

“Okay, I will.” My aunt often had these intuitive moments. I’d learned not to question them because her hunches were always right. 

She bustled away into her back room, swishing through the beads with a rustle of clinks, and I knew she must have been discombobulated because she didn’t even make our afternoon tea. It was a staple every single day after school. I hoped she would be okay.

“Come on, boy,” I said. “Let’s go to the corner drug store and get you a leash and collar. I’ll take you up to the apartment.” He was probably hungry, and I was dying to get this stupid dress off. I’d need to find something to feed him—eggs maybe?—and take a few pictures to post online. Our landlord would go berserk and charge us if he caught sight of the dog, so I hoped its owner was found soon.

The hound followed me outside, all the way to the store, and back to the side door with narrow stairs leading up to our apartments. I felt safe with the dog at my side. For the first time ever I didn’t look back and forth to make sure nobody was hiding or acting shady nearby. I didn’t even have my safety whistle in my hand.

What a strange afternoon. I mean, the dog was awesome, but my aunt’s reaction to him had been over-the-top. She’d been stressing me out about a lot of things lately. I sighed as we walked. Tomorrow was a new day. I already couldn’t wait to go to bed tonight and put it all behind me.

 

Chapter Two: Hair Crime

I woke up the next morning overheated but so comfortable. I couldn’t remember snuggling with anybody or anything in my entire life, but here I was pressed against this warm, firm, furry thing in my twin bed. Blinking, I raised my head and saw the dog and I were at a diagonal, his straight legs sticking off the bed. 

The dog groaned and stretched, then pressed even harder into my side, pushing me into the wall. Wait, what was he doing on the bed? I didn’t remember him climbing up. I’d checked him over for fleas and ticks yesterday, and thankfully he was clean, but still.

What had Aunt Lorna said when she saw him yesterday? CooShee? Probably some old Gaelic curse word I’d never heard her say before.

“CooShee?” I tried out the word for myself.

The dog raised his head and looked at me. I smiled at the sight of his fur pressed upward on his sleeping side. “Let’s take you out and check online to see if your owner has claimed you.”

I went into the bathroom and dressed quickly in a black baby doll dress and thigh-high black stockings with my boots. When I opened my phone to check, there were absolutely no people claiming to own the dog, but dozens of comments on his size and people trying to guess his breed. 

“Oh, look,” I said. “A few people have said they’re willing to take you if your owner doesn’t come forward.” 

A quick, deep growl sounded from the dog’s throat, and I swear he turned his head and gave me a mean side-eye. It was the first sound I’d heard him make. I snorted with amusement. Sometimes it felt like he could understand me. I scratched behind his shaggy ear and patted his back so he’d move out of the doorway. “Come on, let’s go outside.” Maybe we would see Aunt Lorna. She took long walks every morning before heading to the shop.

Before leaving I checked my lipstick and eyeliner. I clicked on the leash and grabbed my oversized black sunglasses, then led him down the narrow stairs. We walked several blocks down to the small park, ignoring stares and people craning their necks, even taking pictures. From the corner of my eye I saw a squirrel dash from the ground toward a tree, and the dog yanked away from me.

“CooShee!” I called, but there was no stopping him. He moved quick and with a grace I didn’t think possible for such a huge creature. I gasped and covered my mouth as he snatched the squirrel mid-run up the tree, shook his head violently, and gave a great crunch. “No!” I covered my face but could still hear two more sickening crunches. Then some lip smacking.

“Oh, my God!” said someone behind me. I turned to see a guy videoing the whole thing on his phone. Oh, great. I ran over and grasped the useless leash tightly until the guy stopped and left.

“CooShee, come on,” I urged as he licked his paw now. “That was disgusting. We have to go.” Poor little tree rat. The dog seemed quite satisfied with himself, trotting next to me with his head up. 

“I was going to feed you, you know,” I mumbled. “Savage.”

On the walk back to the apartment I thought about yesterday with Mr. Goneley and a sick feeling overcame me. I couldn’t help but feel like it wasn’t a coincidence that he’d acted so strangely when I’d had that peculiar feeling go through me while singing…. I shook my head. 

I needed to get back so I could work my shift at Moonlight Apothecary. Aunt Lorna’s local supplier had given her containers of fresh cut cannabis varieties, which she would dry and process in her back room. “The lab,” I called it. She made her own homemade gummy mixture with cute molds in the shape of leaves and flowers. Yep, it was CBD gummy day. She did mild mixtures to help people relax and sleep, and full-blown edibles to help people…not sleep. Medicinal and recreational. Her skills ran the gamut. We couldn’t keep them on the shelves longer than two days.

I tried to leave CooShee in the apartment, but he wasn’t having it. He was glued to my side and literally threw himself into the door crack every time I tried to close it. Aunt Lorna was going to hate this, but the dog was coming to work with me. 

“You have to relax,” I told him as we went down the stairs. “I mean it. Lay by my side and don’t move. No scaring customers or I’ll put you in the back room.”

I walked into the store and Aunt Lorna’s eyes widened. “Absolutely not!” she whisper-yelled as CooShee pushed in right behind me. Customers turned and gaped. The cats hissed and ran, knocking over a display of crystals. I cringed as she rushed over to fix it.

“He’ll be so good!” I promised, moving toward the register. Just as I told him to do, he lay at my feet and let out a little huff. “See?” I smiled at Aunt Lorna, who stared at him with distrust before shaking her head, defeated.

“We need to talk after work,” she said quietly, not meeting my eye. 

“Okay,” I answered, my stomach tightening. Something was up, though I couldn’t begin to put the pieces together. Aunt Lorna had been strange lately, almost secretive, though I couldn’t fathom what in the world she could possibly have going on.

She disappeared into the back where I imagined her with her curls pulled up and her stained apron covering her blouse. I eyed CooShee and held out my hand. To my shock, he raised his and set it in mine. A grin split my face. He’d been taught to shake! Or give a high five. I didn’t know what to call it, but it was cool. I shook his paw and let it fall. A thought came to me that I hoped his owner never came forward, but I pushed it away. I couldn’t keep him. Tiny shop. Tiny apartment. Huge dog who attacked and ate rodents at the park. No, I couldn’t get attached.

The day flew by because we were so busy. Close to closing time I got a text from a girl from school, Tessy, asking if I wanted to hit the new club tonight called Churs. Apparently, that was how people in New Zealand said Cheers, and the owners were Kiwis. I didn’t know Tessy very well. We were acquaintances, a group of misfits with fake IDs. I couldn’t help but be flattered at the invite, so I agreed.  

* * *

On the subway ride over I’d been lucky enough to get a seat and was scrolling on my phone when a news headline caught my eye. I abruptly sat up straight. OMG…I held my breath as I read: “Body Found in Third Missing Person Case on Shehan Island.” 

Shehan Island. 

Oh, my gods. That’s where I was born in Maine. A chill zipped through me, and all the other passengers on the train seemed to disappear as I read. 

Three hikers have been reported missing from Benn Shehan National Park in the past two months on Shehan Island. Today, the body twenty-five-year-old Shannon Baltrove was found. A coroner report lists the cause of death as drowning but she had markings on her leg that prove she may have been dragged by an animal prior to being in the water. Shehan Island has no known natural predators. However, this is not the island’s first mysterious disappearances. Thirteen years ago, a group of seven people went missing at sea after leaving from Shehan’s port on a whale watching excursion.

My phone slipped from my jittery hand into my lap as my fingers covered my mouth. I felt ill.

Through the pounding of my heart in my ears, I heard the doors to the train hiss open and glanced up in a fog. I barely registered that it was my stop, fumbling to grab my phone and jumping up at the last moment. I rushed through the people to jump off just in time. My heart was still hammering when the doors closed. It took a moment to drag my mind out of where it had been moments before. Great Gaia. I swear, that island was cursed. Despite being a warm spring night, I was cold.

“Letty!” Tessy and two friends were waiting by the dingy stairs. Seeing them shook me out of the icky haze enough to force my legs to move. I raised my chin and joined them, heading up the steps in our chunky heels.

Don’t think about that article, I told myself. Don’t think about any of that unexplainable weird stuff. I needed a fun night to get my mind off it all.

The four of us girls might have stood out in a normal town with our kohl-lined eyes, various piercings, ripped fish net stockings, and rainbow assortments of hair, but in New York City nobody was shocked by anything. I didn’t necessarily care about being different…I just didn’t want to be noticed.

At age fifteen I became uncomfortable with the attention I started getting, mostly from older men. I’d developed quickly, becoming curvy. My hair was long and wavy, like a mix of gold and bronze down my back. Though my face was roundish with a spattering of freckles that I thought made me look younger, men looked at me in a way I didn’t want to be looked at. And don’t get me started on the comments about my “sultry” voice….

The alternative, dark style didn’t scare away everyone, but it kept the worst of the unwanted attention at bay.

Inside the club, I went to scout out possible seats while my three companions used their fake IDs to get drinks. I didn’t drink. I was here for the music—the louder the better. There were two suede sofas facing each other but one guy was sitting there. He looked harmless enough, like a college kid or maybe a tourist.

“Is anyone sitting with you?” I asked, shouting over the music. “We have four.”

He stared at me a long moment and I wondered if he heard me over the high volume. Then he spoke and a shiver went down my spine.

“Aye, lass. You can nick these seats from my mates; I won’t mind a bit.”

Scottish? Uuugh. My absolute weakness. I wasn’t proud of how foolish it made me. I sat right next to him and for a moment we stared at one another. He suddenly looked ten times hotter than he had at first. Had he ever worn a kilt? What were the plaid colors for his family line? I imagined his light brown hair blowing in the highland breeze by the sea. 

See? So dumb!

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Luis. What’s your name, love?”

“Letty.”

“That’s lovely.”

Don’t giggle, Letty, you idiot.

“I have to say,” he told me. “Your voice is…bloody spectacular.”

I would normally want to roll my eyes but found myself smiling and thanking him, knowing it was extra raspy and velvety when I had to shout over the music. I asked questions about what he did and where exactly he was from just so I could hear him talk more. I’d never been shy with boys, and though I’d never been with a guy, I loved kissing. 

Kissing was my favorite.

By the time my friends joined us, I wasn’t proud to admit I was practically in his lap and we were, indeed, kissing. I barely noticed when his friends joined us as well. It was Luis and I kissing, my red lipstick around his mouth, while our friends drank and laughed and ignored us.  

I pulled back just enough to ask, “When will you go back to visit Scotland again?” He was a student but his parents were still in Edinburgh.

“I reckon Christmas.” Every vowel sounded like a sexy mouthful, and he rolled his “r”s so beautifully. I dug my fingers into his hair and pulled him in for another kiss.

We eventually made our way to the dance floor where I shamelessly danced close against him. Back on the couches, he exclaimed, “To the motherland!” as he raised a creamy shooter.

His drunkest friend stumbled forward. “Luis, bruh, are you still doing that fake-ass accent?”

Luis’s widened eyes darted to mine, his shot frozen mid-air. I went stiff as his friend’s words hit me.

“Uh,” said Luis. 

“Uh,” I repeated. Holy crap.

Everyone went still, our group in major contrast to the movement all around us. Everyone’s head turned to me. This is where I should’ve gotten mad. I waited for anger and indignance to rise but found only reluctant fascination.

“You’re not Scottish?”

He rubbed his face and muttered in a boring American voice, “I’m sorry. I just got flustered when you talked to me.”

I let out a laugh straight from my belly. “That is literally the best accent I’ve ever heard, and I know my way around a Scot’s accent!” Everyone began to laugh, relief apparent. 

“Really?” he asked sheepishly. “I’m an acting student and I’m taking accent classes.” Of course he was. 

“He’s really good,” another one of his ‘mates’ said. “You should hear his South African!”

“That’s a tough one,” Luis claimed, finally taking his shooter. He leaned in as if to kiss me again, and I placed a hand on his chest, shaking my head. All of our friends died laughing then, his friends slapping him on the back. He grabbed the drunk one who’d ratted him out and pulled him down into a headlock.

A new song came on that I’d been obsessed with and I screamed, “I love this song!” Tessy and I jumped up and down as we sang the words at the top of our lungs. But a few seconds into our singing, she became still and stood before me with her head tilted. Her eyes unfocused and her mouth went slack. I sang on for a few more notes before asking, “Are you okay?”

To my shock, our entire group was gathered around us, staring blankly. At me. My stomach turned. I stepped back, an eerie chill going through me at their glazed eyes, like Mr. Goneley’s had been. I glanced down to make sure I didn’t have a boob hanging out or something.

“What?” I yelled, barking out a nervous laugh. 

Tessy blinked and gave her head a shake. “Wow. You…you’re super hot tonight.”

I laughed and gave her a playful whap on her arm with the back of my hand. “Okay. Whatever.”

But she kept looking at me in that intense way, same as the others. They all began to squirm a little, shifting around like they were coming back to their senses. Luis grabbed the back of his neck and chuckled. Then the others laughed. It was all hecka weird and I felt like I’d done something wrong but couldn’t figure out what.

I was about to say it was time for me to leave when a scream from somewhere in the club curdled my blood. Other shouts and yells began to ring out and we all turned toward the entrance expecting the worst. Everybody in the club seemed to go on alert and the energy level maximized, people ready to run for their lives in a panic. But alas, the crowd parted and in walked a giant freaking animal.

CooShee. 

I leapt to my feet as people scrambled away, some screaming and others asking what the hell he was.

“Shit,” I mumbled to my group. “I have to go. That’s…my dog.” Not really, of course, but it was too much to explain.

He had the stupid leash in his mouth and gave a tail wag when he saw me. How did he find me? Chur was in Manhattan and I’d left him at home in Brooklyn! My heart pounded as I attached his leash and gave him a tug toward the doors. People stared, some with their phones out. I kept my head down.

“No pets allowed!” A man in a suit with a New Zealand accent ran alongside me.

“I know, sorry,” I said, hurrying out. “We’re leaving.”

Once outside, I jogged us down to the corner and stopped, staring down at him. The dog sat and cocked his head at me.

“No, no, no,” I said. “Don’t try to be cute. How did you find me? I took the subway here! Is your nose that good?” I shook my head, baffled. “You can’t just walk into public places like that—”

CooShee abruptly turned, staring hard toward the dark corner of the building with a narrow alleyway. I went still. He didn’t growl, but a strip of hair down his back stood up, his hackles. Was he about to attack someone? I’d seen him kill enough for one day, thanks very much. I gripped his leash tighter and tried to calm him as I reached into my pocket and grasped my pepper spray.

“It’s okay, boy. Let’s just….” My voice trailed off as a form began to clarify in the darkness. It appeared to be a guy, tall with nice shoulders, his longish, dark hair hiding half of his face. He wore black jeans, black boots, and a long-sleeved navy shirt. Something about him set my nerves on edge. I could only see one of his eyes, light in color, the other hidden by his hair, but as he took another step toward me, my skin razed with a strange heat.

“Listen,” I warned him, motioning to the dog. “You should back off. I can’t control him. He’s not mine, exactly. Just step away and we’ll leave.” But when I glanced down at CooShee, his hackles had gone down and he seemed unbothered now. The guy’s lip quirked up for a split second.

“I’m no’ afraid of the creature.” His r’s rolled languidly. 

Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. Freaking Scottish? What were the odds?

“No’ that creature, anyhow,” he said.

I shook my head, confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?” What other ‘creature’ was here?

His one visible eye narrowed as if was the one being a smartass.

“Did fake accent guy tell you to mess with me?” It sort of just popped out of my mouth and I immediately felt stupid. How would they have had time to coordinate this?

The guy took another step forward and swished the long waves from his face. I sucked in a gasp and held it. Under all that thick hair was a brutally handsome face, all sharp angles with light eyes. I looked down expecting the dog to growl at this stranger, but instead he sat down! What a worthless guard dog! Why was this guy talking to me anyway? I felt…off. Like I wanted to run, but also move closer to see him better. The opposing instincts freaked me out.

 

 

 

About Wendy Higgins:


Wendy Higgins is a USA Today and New York Times bestselling author of young adult and adult genre romance, including fantasy, paranormal, Sci-Fi, mythology, and contemporary. She is a former high school English teacher who now writes full time, and lives in Virginia Beach with her daughter, son, and tiny doggies.

Wendy earned a bachelor's degree in Creative Writing from George Mason University and a master's from Radford University.

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