Available Now: Violet Spirit by Abbey MacMunn

VIOLET SPIRIT
The Evoxian Legacies
Abbey MacMunn

$4.99

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just 99c through Sunday 16 February

A half human, half alien.

A violet-eyed shapeshifter.

Their destinies bound by magic from a disappearing world.

Ever since free-spirited Lexie Mills learned she was half human, half alien, her life has been far from ordinary. But living a privileged life in a Cotswold manor with her over-protective family isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, and not helped by her confusing feelings for her best friend, Drew.

Evoxian shapeshifter, Drew Morgan, longs to tell Lexie he’s her destined soulmate, but until she embraces her alien heritage, he must wait. Trouble is, staying in the friend zone proves harder than he thought.

Tensions sizzle and chemistry sparks between them, but as their friendship blossoms into something magical, Lexie uncovers a heart-breaking truth about Drew and she must make a choice…

Forgive Drew and accept her destiny, or decide her own Fate?

• • •

Good little Lexie Mills always did as she was told, right?

Wrong. Not anymore.

Her stomach churned, but there was no going back now. She had to do this for her own sanity.

Three sets of violet eyes stared expectantly at her.

Lexie’s gaze flitted around the opulent sitting room of Hawton Hall, the eighteenth-century Cotswold manor she felt privileged to call home, but it was also a gilded cage.

She blurted it out before she lost her nerve. “I want to get a job.” Now for the repercussions.

The room fell silent, as she’d predicted.

Scents of beeswax and decades-old fabrics mingled with the aromatic, seasoned oakwood that burned inside the huge Georgian fireplace. The antique clock ticked monotonously on the mantlepiece, like the calm before the storm.

“Over my dead body,” Drew declared, his sudden hostility taking her by surprise.

Her heart sank. She’d expected more from him, at least hoped he would be on her side.

From the moment she’d met Drew—when her mum learned of her alien heritage—he’d impressed her with his shape-shifting abilities. He’d become like a big brother and a best friend wrapped into one, her confidant, the person who made her laugh when everything had changed so rapidly, and he was usually so amicable. But not today, it seemed.

Drew folded his giant arms, drawing her attention to the striking tattoo of the naghari that snaked around his forearm, a fearsome creature he could morph into in three seconds if he wanted to. His jaw tightened, and his expression took on an arrogant stubbornness, evoking a sudden urge within to slap him across his handsome face.

What right does he have to tell me what I can and can’t do?

She looked to her parents, pleading they would understand her need for independence.

“You don’t need a job, love,” her mum, Bree, told her. “It’s not as if we need the money anymore.”

Yeah right, because her Evoxian royal heritage, and the numerous properties and land on Earth her family owned, meant she could buy anything and everything she could ever want.

Everything except her freedom.

• • •

Abbey MacMunn writes paranormal and fantasy romances. She lives in Hampshire, UK, with her husband and their four children.

When she’s not writing, she likes to watch films and TV shows – anything from rom-coms to superheroes to science fiction movies.

She is a proud member of the Romantic Novelists' Assocation.

• • •

Find Abbey Online:

Website - http://abbeymacmunn.com
Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/AbbeyMacMunnAuthor1
Twitter - https://twitter.com/abbeymacmunn
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Tirgearr Publishing  - http://tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/MacMunn_Abbey

Available Now: Earthbound by Melora Johnson

EARTHBOUND
Melora Johnson

$3.99

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just 99c/p through Sunday, 19 January

Ally Reynolds is a veterinarian specializing in raptor rehabilitation in New Hampshire. Other than one horrific incident in her childhood and a little extra “spark” for healing in her hands, both of which she has kept secret from even her best friend, her life has been singularly boring. It has also been extremely lonely. Ally longs for someone to share her life with, but how can she trust someone with her secret?

Matthew Blake, an ornithologist at Cornell University, calls Ally, asking for her help with an injured raptor. Matthew grew up in New Zealand and has lived around the world. He has read about Ally’s high success rates in raptor rehabilitation and suspects there is more to it than is generally known.

Matthew has some secrets of his own; he is a demon hunter. He suspects Ally’s healing powers could benefit him. He wants her to join him and thinks they’d make a great team.

Can Ally trust him or is he just using her? Matthew definitely has more secrets, and some of them are about her.

• • •

“Doctor Reynolds,” a male voice called out from across the room, pulling me back to the present. It sounded somewhat familiar.

I looked up, shielding my eyes from the afternoon sun shining in the front window as a male figure strode toward me, blond hair haloed by the light. He stopped in front of me.

Startled, I rose to my feet and looked into a chiseled face, his eyes the indeterminate blue green of sea glass like I’d collected along the shoreline once as a teenager. His dark golden blond hair was short and spiky, his lopsided grin pure perfection. He was gorgeous.

In my experience, gorgeous men were not to be trusted. Well, no men really were. Oh, all right, no one was, period.
“Doctor Allyson Reynolds? I’m Doctor Matthew Scott Blake. I’m honored to have you join us. I’ve read your articles in the Raptor Rehab Newsletter.”

He held out a hand, but when I put out mine to shake it, he simply captured mine in his and placed his other hand over it. His eyes flashed green with golden flecks in the sunlight.

“I’m glad to be here,” I said, not at all sure I was anymore, as my pulse sped up. “Please, call me Ally.”

“All right, Ally it is.”

I want to climb him like a tree. I swallowed, aghast at my own thoughts. I’d only known him a few minutes.

His hands were so warm. My mother’s voice played in my head, Gorgeous men are dangerous, arrogant, and being involved with them will lead to no good. I frowned.

“It’s so good to see you…” he said. At my expression, he faltered and cleared his throat. The wattage of his smile dimmed significantly. “I mean, to meet you. I’ve been following your work since I arrived in the States, in the newsletter.”

He turned, drawing my hand through his arm. “Please, let me show you around the facilities here.”

“Uh, thank you,” I murmured, wondering how to tactfully withdraw my arm. My attraction to him was overwhelming. At the same time, his overly familiar attitude seemed a little odd.

A tall woman, her long, brown hair in a ponytail, appeared at the doorway through which Matt had arrived. She positively glowered at my arm through Matthew’s. She wore work boots, khaki shorts, and a sand colored polo shirt with the university logo, so I assumed she worked there as well. She approached us and stopped several feet away, then turned a bright smile on Matthew. “Hi, Matt. What brings you down from the Ornithology Lab?”

“This is Doctor Allyson Reynolds, the veterinarian and raptor rehabilitation specialist I suggested to Rick we bring in to help with the injured eagle from Sapsucker Woods.”

Shelly took one more look at my arm entwined with Matthew’s then smiled again at him. “Would you like me to show her around?”

He paused a moment before replying. “That’s okay, Shelly. I can handle it, I know my way. No need to take time out of your busy schedule. I’ll just show Doctor Reynolds around, then bring her to meet Rick. He’s the one overseeing the care of the eagle. Oh…” He turned to me. “This is Doctor Shelly Madison, she’s a clinical associate professor in zoo medicine.”

I saw my chance and pulled my arm out of his, ostensibly to shake Shelly’s hand. I murmured hello. She responded stiffly. Her behavior made more sense to me than his. Why treat me like an honored guest? I was just a vet who specialized in raptor rehab. I had been so anxious to get out of town I’d jumped at the chance, but now there was one question paramount in my mind—why had he called me? They were the experts here.

“Now, let’s show you around the animal hospital here.” His hands clenched, his bicep bulging under his short sleeve as he tugged the inner door to the offices open for me.

I fought the urge to retreat a step. Here stood a warrior from medieval legend. It would have been more appropriate for him to be dressed in leather armor than a button-down, short-sleeved khaki shirt, but he grabbed my hand and drew me around Shelly. “We’ll start in the library.”

As we walked, I had a stern conversation with my subconscious. Go to Ithaca, you said. You’ll get away from anyone Jen wants to set you up with, you said.

Matthew squeezed my hand. I looked up to see him beaming at me. My stomach lurched. I was out of the nest and free falling.

• • •

Melora Johnson grew up in a small town in Upstate New York, and still lives in the state with her husband, daughter, a black cat, and quite a few chickens. She writes poetry, horror, science-fiction & fantasy but dabbles in other genres and daylights as a librarian because that is where she hears the best stories. She also runs a thriving writers group. Of course, into every life a little rain must fall, as well as the occasional tornado, but you'll find that amply covered in her writing.

• • •

Find Melora Online:

Website - http://www.melorajohnson.com
Facebook - http://www.facebook.com/MeloraJohnson.Writer
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Blog - http://melorajohnson.wordpress.com
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Available Now: Fade by AK Morgen

FADE
The Ragnarök Prophesies, #1
A.K. Morgen

$4.99

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99c/p through Sunday10 November

What do you do when you realize nothing in your life is what you’ve believed it to be?

Arionna Jacobs' world is turned upside down when she loses her mother in a tragic accident. She’s forced to leave her old life behind and move in with her father.

Dace Matthews, a teaching assistant at Arionna's new college, is torn in two, unable to communicate with the feral wolf caged inside him.

When they meet, everything they thought they knew about life unravels. Dace has intimate access to Arionna’s mind, and something deep within her fights to rise to the surface. They don’t understand what’s happening to them or why, and they’re running out of time to sort out the strange occurrences around them.

Their meeting sets an ancient Norse prophesy of destruction in motion, and what destiny has in store for them is bigger than either could have ever imagined. Unless they learn to trust themselves and one another, they may never resolve the mystery surrounding who they are to one another, and what that means for the world.

• • •

December 9, 2009

The wind howled around me, flinging cold rain this way and that. Frigid drops stung my face and hands. The vinyl awning overhead shook and rattled in time to the thunderclaps echoing from every direction. Energy crackled in the air as lightning splintered trees miles away. The resulting clamor forced Reverend Don to shout just to be heard above the fury of the storm. Even so, I only caught every third or fourth word of the prayer he offered.

I didn't need to hear what he said anyway. There were no prayers for raising the dead. I knew because I'd tried. I'd begged, pleaded, and prayed to every god I could think of over the last four days, and none of my efforts changed a single thing.

My mom still lay in the gleaming wood casket in front of me. And I still couldn't breathe. I'd tried that for the last four days, too, but my breath remained lodged in my throat. It burned when I inhaled. It burned when I exhaled.

Was that normal?

I wasn't sure.

I lifted my unblinking gaze from my waterlogged black shoes as Reverend Don continued shouting. He bowed his gray head over his Bible, his shoulders hunching against the driving rain pummeling us from all sides. The few mourners who'd braved the storm alongside my dad and me to attend the graveside service huddled in groups beneath useless umbrellas, soggy tissues clutched in their shaking fists. Mascara ran in rivulets down more than one face, but whether from the rain or tears, I didn't know.

I couldn't remember if I'd put on mascara before leaving the house, but any smudges beneath my eyes were from rain. I hadn't cried yet, and I didn't know if that was normal either.

I didn't think it mattered one way or another though. My life stopped making sense the moment I'd opened the door to the state trooper on Saturday, and every hour since had flung me further and further from normal. Who cared if I cried now or later?

My mom was dead, and tears wouldn't change that.

Besides, if I let myself cry now, I wouldn't stop. I'd keep on until I ran out of tears, and I couldn't do that. I needed to keep moving forward. One step at a time. Sprinkle dirt over her coffin. Thank her friends for coming. Pack my things. Transfer colleges.

The list seemed endless, but if I stopped long enough to think now, I'd fall apart. Eventually, I'd run out of things to do, I knew that, but I didn't know what to expect when I did. When I had nothing left to plan or store or do…is that when I cracked? When I shattered like Humpty Dumpty?

As a murmur of "amen" went up from Mom's friends and co-workers, I almost hoped I did get to fall apart then. Being strong and brave hurt. Especially when I just wanted to hit my knees and scream until I passed out.

But when do we ever really get what we want, anyway?

Dad's hand tightened around mine, and I glanced in his direction. He stared straight ahead, his brown eyes fixed on Mom's casket. I followed the path his gaze had taken, only to realize he wasn't looking at her casket at all. His eyes locked on the far side of the cemetery, at the line where the plots stopped and the trees started.

I squinted through the rain, trying to pinpoint what held his attention.

A lone wolf hunkered beneath the trees.

A wolf?

I blinked, certain I hadn't seen an animal at all, but I had. A wolf, or the domestic relation anyway, sat in the shadows of the trees, staring in our direction. Even from a distance, he looked as sad as I felt, and I wondered if he'd lost a loved one too.

Do animals feel loss like us? Do they grieve, too?

I hoped not.

As the wind picked up around us, the animal's eyes met mine. He didn't move for a moment. He just sat there with his sad, wolfy eyes locked on mine. And then he lifted his muzzle skyward and howled.

Goose bumps broke out along my skin as his mournful wail ripped through the cemetery. Reverend Don's voice, the sniffles and muffled sobs of Mom's friends, even the crash and clatter of thunder and lightning faded.

The lump in my throat dissolved, and I could breathe.

I didn't feel peaceful or better or anything remotely close to unburdened. I felt…wrecked. As if listening to his call shook loose a little grief that had been building for the last few days. Everything inside, all of the grief and fear I hadn't allowed myself to think about, expanded. Grief swept through me like a tsunami, leaving nothing untouched.

A tear slipped down my cheek, followed by another.

The wolf's howl lingered in the air around us for long moments before the storm renewed its assault. Lightning flashed in the distance, and the sound of his howl faded into the screeching wind.

The animal turned his head in my direction, looking right at me again. Yellow eyes locked on mine, burning through me, speaking to me.

My heart twisted painfully in my chest, the truth hitting me like a ton of bricks.

My mom was never coming back. Not ever.

My vision blurred until the wolf looked like little more than a watery spot far off in the distance. "I love you, Mama," I whispered, hoping she'd heard me.

The animal sat there for another moment, watching me, and then he slipped back beneath the shadows of the tree. I watched him go through tear-filled eyes, my heart aching in ways I couldn't even begin to describe.

Reverend Don loomed in front of me as I reached up to wipe my eyes, his wrinkled face a mask of sympathy and support. He extended one of his hands in my direction, his Bible clutched to his chest with the other.

I glanced over at my dad, but he had his eyes closed and his head bowed. A line of moisture worked its way down his cheek, and I knew that even if Mom hadn't heard me, he had.

"Arionna?"

I hesitated, not ready for what came next. I was only nineteen…why did I have to say goodbye to her now? How was this fair? I looked back at her coffin, and then at the broken expression on my dad's face. My hands trembled in my lap.

Dad reached over to squeeze my fingers. "Love you, Ari," he whispered.

I rose from my seat, a sob building in my throat.

• • •

A.K. Morgen lives in the heart of Arkansas with her childhood sweetheart/husband of fifteen years, and their furry minions. When not writing, she spends her time hiking, reading, volunteering, causing mischief, and building a Spork army.

She graduated summa cum laude with her Bachelor of Science degree in Criminal Justice and Forensic Psychology in 2009 before going on to complete her graduate degree in CJ and Law.

She puts her education to use as a 911 Dispatch Supervisor, where she's responsible for leading a team of dispatchers as they watch over police, EMS, and firefighters for her county.

In addition to writing fantasy, she also writes steamy contemporary romance as Ayden K. Morgen.

Find A.K. online:

Website - http://facebook.com/akmorgen1
Facebook - http://facebook.com/akmorgen1
Twitter - http://twitter.com/akmorgen
Amazon - https://www.amazon.com/A.K.-Morgen/e/B0097AUQAS
BookBub - https://www.bookbub.com/authors/ayden-k-morgen
Tirgearr Publishing - http://tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Morgen_AK

Available Now: Violet Souls by Abbey MacMunn

VIOLET SOULS
The Evoxian Legacies, #1
Abbey MacMunn

$4.99

BUY HERE

(99c through Sunday the 9th)

While searching for clues to her past, single mother Bree Mills discovers a subculture of aliens with supernatural abilities living on Earth. And she’s one of them. Finding herself hurled into a world of possibilities, it’s made more alluring by Quinn Taylor, the 324-year-old, violet-eyed Evoxian from her childhood dreams.

Quinn knows his destiny is entwined with Bree’s. He’s fraught with frustration and desire, but before he can confess his love, he must wait for her to sense the Akui, a mysterious force tied with ancient Evoxian law.

At a Cotswolds country manor, passions awaken and ignite a love more magical than the once-Utopian planet, Evox. Then Fate delivers a cruel and heart-breaking blow when Bree is kidnapped by a malicious alien who wants her and her power. Will Quinn still love Bree when she’s faced with protecting her half-human daughter… whatever the cost?

• • •

Brianna Mills grasped the curious pendant around her neck. Like before, when she’d first touched it, the violet jewel warmed, and her peripheral vision shrank back.

Her steps faltered. With somehow more focused vision, she watched the man coming towards her along the tree-lined track.
Jasper stopped rummaging in the undergrowth, sniffed the air, and wagged his tail. But despite her dog’s interest, she sensed something…odd.

It wasn’t just the disconcerting vision or the static electricity surrounding her. Or even the disappointment as she pondered over the outcome of her adoption meeting earlier. No, this was something else, something tangible. Electromagnetic energy rolled over her skin, made her scalp tingle. A strange, coppery scent circulated in the cool spring air.

Blood pulsated in her ears, muffling the sound of birds chirping in the trees. She came to a standstill, all five senses fizzing with an unseen force, her heartbeat pounding like tribal drums.

Still six metres ahead, the guy looked tall, well-built with broad shoulders, and casually dressed in a faded brown leather jacket and dark blue jeans, worn at the knees. Overlong blond hair rested on his shoulders, and messy waves fell either side of a tanned, ruggedly handsome face.

Drop. Dead. Bloody. Gorgeous.

A tiny spark ignited somewhere within and she forgot how to breathe.

Bree recognised him. But he wasn’t anyone she’d ever met before, not while she was awake. No, this was someone whom she used to dream of when she was a child.

It didn’t make sense. How could she have dreamt about him, what, fifteen or so years ago?

The spark became a small flame, breathing its warmth on parts of her that she’d forgotten existed. Her cheeks heated. She had so little experience with men. No wonder she’d fallen for the first guy to show her any interest and been naïve enough to get herself pregnant.

Jasper barked, which made her jump, and then raced towards the guy, wagging his tail and leaping around excitedly, greeting him like some long-lost friend.

“Jasper! Get back here. Right now.”

Trying to focus through the tunnel vision, she willed her feet to walk the remaining distance to retrieve her dog.

Get a grip, Bree, get a grip.

Keeping her head down, she wished she hadn’t tied her hair in a loose bun, so she could have hidden her embarrassment behind the long tresses.

“Sorry. Jasper doesn’t normally like strangers.” She gulped. Her words were breathless and pathetic, and she cursed under her breath. Is he a stranger, though? With shaky hands and distorted vision, she grabbed her Labrador and fumbled with the lead, desperate to get the damn thing to clip on to Jasper’s collar.

“Are you wearing blue contact lenses?” he asked in a deep, hypnotic, and strangely familiar voice.

Bree blinked rapidly and her vision returned to normal. “What…? No.” She wouldn’t look at him, preferring to give her attention to Jasper’s lead, now gripped so tightly her knuckles had turned white.

She could almost feel the guy’s stare burning the top of her head. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and she backed away—until she noticed his dog.

Similar to a pure white Alsatian, but she’d never seen one as massive or as muscular. It stared at her too, with weird violet eyes.

Violet eyes like hers.

• • •

Abbey MacMunn writes paranormal and fantasy romances. She lives in Hampshire, UK, with her husband and their four children.


When she’s not writing, she likes to watch films and TV shows – anything from rom-coms to superheroes to science fiction movies.

She is a proud member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association New Writers’ Scheme.

Find Abbey Online --

Website - http://abbeymacmunn.com
Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/AbbeyMacMunnAuthor1
Twitter - https://twitter.com/abbeymacmunn
Pinterest - https://www.pinterest.com/abbeymacmunn
Tirgearr Publishing - http://tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/MacMunn_Abbey

Available Now: The War Queen by J.M. Robison

THE WAR QUEEN
J.M. Robison

Length: Novel
Genre: Fantasy Romance

Price: $4.99 (99c/99p through 2 October)

BUY HERE

Altarn is the first woman to hold the position of State Head in Blindvar. When Lord Kaelin, State Head of Ruidenthall, propositions her to merger with their states, Altarn believes it’s his subtle way of taking her kingdom for his own, making himself king. On the cusp of war, she rides in disguise to her last ally, Luthsinia, to ask for help.

During her journey, Altarn is ambushed but rescued by a man called Torren who offers her protection. Quickly they realize they share a mutual attraction. Upon their arrival to Luthsinia, Altarn receives news that an army has invaded Blindvar in her absence and blames Kaelin. Except it’s not Kaelin’s army, because she discovers Kaelin is in Luthsinia for the purpose of spying on her to take her land. And Torren is not who she thought he was.

Taking advantage of the unraveling situation, Kaelin kidnaps Altarn so he can take her land without her in the way and brings her to Ruidenthall. There’s a war ship on the horizon, led by a fallen angel craving mortal worship. Kaelin realizes he needs Altarn’s help to fight this army if he’s to save his kingdom. She’s forced to agree, but how will she react when he’s wounded in battle? If she lets him die, can she fight the enemy on her own? Or if she saves his life, will he still try claiming her kingdom, or try claiming her heart?

• • •

All seven members were already seated, one baron for each major city in Blindvar. There were actually six cities, but there could not be an even number on the court.. The seventh was a random member qualified to be a court official, currently held by a female named Brigot. The idea of females serving in positions of authority was not settling easy.

Altarn walked to the head of the table, sitting in her large, leather chair which felt awkwardly like a throne, reminding her of the last king the Blindvarn citizens had dethroned more than three hundred years ago.

Her seven members waited for her to speak. Perseth pushed his glasses higher up his sweaty nose. Leodin coughed into his sleeve.

Females were not discouraged from positions in politics, but the concept still troubled many. It had been a traditionally male position to hold both the state’s title and to fill the positions in court, but Altarn had been in a particular mood eleven years ago and had broken it. She became the first female State Head and had already served one year out of the three-year session.

Two men had competed for the State Head with her. The background check on one revealed he had a criminal record. The second was leading the election by a large margin until authorities discovered he was born in Luthsinia.

“The minutes will reflect the presence of all representatives from their respective cities,” Altarn began. “On seven Midar, year three twenty-four After the Reign of Kings.” She paused to let the court scribe catch up. “So being, I am unaware as to the nature of the request for court so I will let another member proceed from here.”

Perseth stood from his chair and straightened his buttoned waistcoat over his round belly. “Baron Perseth of the City of Fellsbarren requested this session due to concerns with the present dealings with the State of Ruidenthall.”

His nasally voice made Altarn want to hand him a tissue. She drummed her fingers on the armrests. She had suspected as much.

“May I speak freely, Lady?”

“Proceed.”

Perseth pushed his glasses higher up his nose. “We all think it is impulsive of you to threaten Ruidenthall with war.”

His eyes, too round and too close to his nose, swept over the other members of the room, who all nodded.

“They have been our friends and allies since the war to dethrone our king. If Luthsinia didn’t cut straight between our two states, we might even be one. A lot of us have family who either came from Ruidenthall or who live there now.”

“Is it so easily forgotten the Lord of Ruidenthall is trying to steal Blindvar from us?”

The members at the table moaned.

“Please reflect on my use of the word ‘impulsive.’”

It pushed on the edges of her serenity to listen to Perseth’s boldness and not respond to it. But she’d been called to court to listen to a problem, not create one.

“Scribe, will you please read us the letter from the Lord of Ruidenthall concerning the matter our lady has just mentioned?”

The scribe pulled a book off the shelf at his desk and thumbed through it, pages snapping crisply. “Seventeenth of Kaidar,” the scribe read. “Year three twenty-four After the Reign of Kings. Addressed to Lady Altarn Shadheing from Lord Kaelin-drath Morrendrake. It reads:

Greetings, Lady of Blindvar.

It is fortunate our two states are such great friends. It has come to my recent attention that a number of Ruidenthall citizens have taken a fancy to your small town of Heathe. So much so, that there are more Ruids than Blindvarns. I’ll have to visit to see what the attraction is. After all, who would sacrifice great Ruid food to live in a small Blindvarn town where the closest city is thirty miles out?

Of course, having this offset of Blindvarns to Ruids must make it a tad more difficult for the yearly census for you, which gave me an idea. Since our states are such good allies, I propose—just as a speculative thought—that Heathe be merged into the State of Ruidenthall in exchange for a small bit of land out of my own good state, if you like.

Maybe this small exchange can start something bigger, and maybe someday Endendre will eventually be one state instead of divided into three. Of course, it is just an idea, and something like this has never been done before between our two states. Please reply with your thoughts. If it is disagreeable, I’ll digress.

Signed, Lord Kaelin-drath Morrendrake of Ruidenthall.

The members at the table watched Altarn like ghosts waiting for the moment they could pounce on the living and suck out their souls.

• • •

Born in small town Bennington, Idaho, J.M. wanted to be just like her big, story writer sister. Big sister paints now, but that initial role model was all the springboard J.M. needed to fearlessly leap into writing the novels of her heart. Getting around the world as a soldier has helped broaden J.M.'s views on cultures and personalities, and settling down as a Deputy Sheriff in Nevada for a time has helped her maintain all the fine intricacies humans are capable of which has helped define her characters into something realistic and believable. Without any prior claims to fame, J.M. is proud to showcase that hard work, even from rock bottom, DOES pay off.

Find J.M. Online:

Website - http://www.writing.com/main/portfolio/view/nevercease
Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/groups/608577589306606
Twitter - https://twitter.com/JMRobison
Tirgearr Publishing - http://www.tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Robison_JM

Available Now: Touched by Abbey MacMunn

TOUCHED
Abbey MacMunn

Length: Novel
Genre: Fantasy Romance

Digital Price: $3.99 (99c/99p through 17 August)

BUY HERE

When inquisitive antique dealer Cami Wilson learns she’s the revered offspring of an immortal mother and a mortal father, it’s not just her hybrid status that has her all flustered. The title comes with her very own super-sexy guardian.

Jaded immortal Joseph Carlisle has only one thing on his mind; his sworn duty to protect the hybrid from those who wish her harm. Anything else would be complicated. That is until they meet.

Chemistry sizzles between them but there’s a problem—the hybrid's curse. Cami’s touch, skin to skin, proves near fatal to her and all immortals, Joseph included.

But the fated lovers discover her curse is the least of their concerns when a friend's deadly betrayal threatens to tear them apart forever.

• • •

He might have just saved her life, but being pinned to the freezing concrete by some wannabe hero was not her idea of fun. Cami Wilson shoved the unyielding wall of his chest, fighting not only him but the rising panic. ‘Get the hell off me!’

The guy remained on top of her, using his large frame to protect her from the chunks of smouldering metal hurtling to the ground around her. Icy air met with fiery heat and smoke infused the atmosphere like the fifth of November, but there were no sparkling fireworks to admire, only the flaming inferno, which seconds earlier had been her car.

Maybe if she hadn’t been so intrigued by the antique brooch she held in her hand or distracted by the weird, periodic buzzing emitting from it, she might have seen him coming at her in full, rugby tackle mode.

He lifted a little, easing the crushing pressure on her ribs, but remained inches from her face. Glacier-blue eyes met hers, captivating and intense. ‘Are you hurt?’

His gravelly voice did something tingly to her insides. She went to speak, but no words came. Nothing came to mind. Not the explosion. Not the contents of her shopping trolley strewn all over Morrisons’ car park. Not the fact she could have been killed. Somehow, none of it registered.

She gawped back at him like a doe-eyed teenager, taking in the angular sweep of a jawline peppered with dark stubble, and well-defined lips that parted invitingly as he drew in his breath.

His gaze lingered on her mouth in a breathtaking moment right out of one of those soppy rom-coms she liked to watch.

Forget burning cars and curious brooches… hel-lo, future husband.

Somewhere to her left, an engine revved loudly, and he turned his head towards the sound. Overlong, tousled hair tickled her cheek, and she got a faint whiff of citrus shampoo.

Hmm, lovely…

A second later, his attention returned to her. His grave expression burned with an urgency that brought her down from the clouds. ‘Dammit! I asked if you were hurt.’

‘No, I…’

In a move so swift it wasn’t humanly possible, he leapt to his feet and hauled her up beside him. The brooch slipped from her gloved hand and landed on the ground.

The man cursed under his breath and stooped to retrieve it. With an exasperated look, he waved it in front of her as though she were a baby dropping her dummy for the hundredth time. ‘You need to take more care of this. Don’t you know how important it is?’

Sudden indignation flared. Cami snatched the jewel from his grasp and slipped it back into her coat pocket. Okay, the guy rocked the sexy, just-rolled-out-of-bed look, but his patronising attitude set her teeth on edge. What right did he have to tell her what to do? And what on Earth did he know about a weird, vibrating brooch she’d been given by her adoptive mother, the only clue she had to her past?

The sound of screeching tyres forced her thoughts elsewhere. A large van headed at speed straight towards them. The stench of burning rubber competed with the acrid smoke from her smouldering car.

‘Follow me.’ He fisted the sleeve of her padded parka in his bear-sized hand and dragged her across the car park towards the supermarket.

Was there no end to his manhandling, macho behaviour? She did not need him to tell her what to do—the danger registered now. Big time.

• • •

Abbey MacMunn writes paranormal and fantasy romances. She lives in Hampshire, UK, with her husband and their four children.

When she’s not writing, she likes to watch films and TV shows – anything from rom-coms to superheroes to science fiction movies.

She is a proud member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association New Writers’ Scheme.

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