by Liz Long
She smiled. “I know. You are quite good at it. I imagine in a few hundred years, you will be an excellent mentor, as well.”
I breathed a sigh of relief out of habit, but knew I looked as confused as I felt. “What’s the reward then?”
“The elders decided that, in your unique situation, you may be allowed to help your family’s spirits cross over when their times come. You will reap their souls when they die, which will give you an opportunity to say goodbye.”
My jaw dropped, emotion making my chest feel tight. “Really? You’re sure that’s okay?”
Helena placed her delicate hands on my knees. “Tully said you were a fluke and he was correct. You were meant to stop Alistair and help Tully and those souls ascend. I also know you never had a proper farewell with your family; this is our way of saying thank you.”
“Thank you,” I said. “This is better than anything I could’ve asked for.”
Her smile nearly blinded me. “I am glad you think so. We wanted to express our gratitude for what you did.”
“If you all need help…with anything at all, please let me know. I want to be of use. I know I’m young and just a Made—”
She cut me off. “You have proven you were meant to be one of us, no matter how it happened. Believe me when I say I will personally be coming to you soon.”
Evidently the end of the discussion, Helena stood to walk me out. We reached her doorway and she paused. To my surprise, she reached out and squeezed my hand.
“Thank you, Grace, for everything you’ve done. We look forward to having you with us for years to come.”
“Me too, Helena. Me too.”
Acknowledgments
It’s a list of the usual suspects, but there are also a few new folks I’d like to thank for their help. THANK YOU: my husband Jason for becoming a teacher so his days of lesson-planning ease the guilt of my writing for 8 straight hours; Morgan Wall, my eagle-eyed editor and fabulous sounding board; Erica Dickson, my brilliant cover designer and cheerleader; my amazing beta readers Ethan Gregory, Christina Marie Mitchell, Ginny Lurcock, Emerald Perpete, and Rhiannon Thomas. Special thanks to the fantastic bloggers who helped with this release as well as the authors who so generously donated for the online release party!
The Links
Thanks so much for reading! If you can spare five minutes for a short review, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Also, you’d get a giant tackle hug when we finally meet.
If you’d like to read the first two book in the Donovan Circus series, you can check Gifted and Burned out here on Amazon (also available for Nook on B&N and iBooks):
Gifted, a Donovan Circus Novel for Kindle
Burned, a Donovan Circus Novel for Kindle
You can also check out my second book, Witch Hearts, available on Amazon and B&N. A paranormal thriller, this standalone novel focuses on a serial killer hunting witches for their power.
Witch Hearts for Kindle
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Special Excerpt
Ink: Fine Lines
Bella Roccaforte
I’m frozen by his words. I’m sure I didn’t mention her name because I almost never say it out loud anymore. Who is this guy? “What did you say?”
“I would like you to draw me a picture of...”
His words are cut off by heavy footsteps on the dock and a grumbling voice, “Move it along douchebag.”
I look to see who it is. I jump up. “McNab!”
McNab tilts his head toward me. “Hello Shay.” He’s always so serious. “You heard me Nigel, move it along.” McNab kicks Nigel’s shoe.
Nigel stands up, putting his hat on his head and smiling. “Hey, you can’t blame a guy for trying, now can you?”
“Trying what?” Who the hell is this guy?
“Yes I can, now make tracks before I kick your ass.” McNab flinches toward Nigel. Nigel starts backing away toward the main dock. “It was truly a pleasure meeting you, Shay. Hopefully our paths will cross again.”
My hand waves goodbye absently, still unsure of who he is or how McNab knows him. Turning to McNab, I pick up my backpack. “How did you know where I was? And how do you know Nigel?”
“Simple, Shay: I’m an investigator. Finding things is what I do. Nigel? I know him from the business. He’s a reporter, a freelancer, a hack. His birth certificate is an apology from the condom factory.” I love the way McNab talks; it’s always so urgent even when he’s saying simple things like ‘pass the salt’ or ‘hand me that pen.’
“You look hungry, kid. Have you eaten? I can tell you haven’t eaten dinner, let’s eat dinner.” McNab rattles off in his own special brand of speech. See what I mean? Urgent.
“Sure, let’s eat dinner,” I answer. It’s usually pretty hard to get a word in edgewise with him, but it’s okay. Walking up the dock, I pat him on the shoulder. “Thanks for stepping in there.”
“Whoa, you know the rules: nobody touches McNab.” He says, moving away from me with his hands raised like it’s a stick-up.
McNab doesn’t like to be touched. He says it disrupts his psychic field and he ‘can’t work with that.’ I have a private chuckle at McNab’s expense.
“Not funny.” McNab continues walking without turning around.
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Special Excerpt
Bait
K.C. Blake
The knowledge she was no longer alone in bed should have scared the crap out of Bay-Lee and normally it would have, but she was still floating on the fragments of a blissful dream. The soft whisper of a lover’s hands surfaced with her consciousness. She’d been dreaming about being in love, the kind that inspired people to die for each other, the Romeo and Juliet sort of love. Beyond that nothing seemed real to her.
An odd smell pierced the veil of sleep, and she wrinkled her nose. Jack Daniels?
The next thing to grab her attention was the feel of a hard body crowding her on the narrow mattress.
Warm breath lightly blew a trail down her face from forehead to mouth like the soft wings of a butterfly brushing against her skin. Fingers slid up one arm to curve around her shoulder. Her eyelids fluttered, and she smiled up at the gorgeous stranger. Fantasy wove a complicated tapestry with reality, and she decided she was still dreaming.
The dark-haired boy’s gaze settled on her lips. She could practically read his mind. He wanted to kiss her until neither of them could breathe. Still living on the leftover residue of an imagined love, she was going to allow it. A tingling sense of anticipation had her nearly breathless already.
She closed her eyes again, mentally preparing for the kiss.
She waited.
The bed creaked as he leaned in to give her what she desired most. His hot breath teased her lips, and the smell of whiskey intoxicated her. She clenched her hands into tight fists, grabbing and holding bunched up bedding, silently willing him to hurry before she came to her senses. Outside of this moment nothing existed, not school, not her boyfriend, not the troubling circumstances that forced her to constantly move from state to state, nothing.
When her lips remained cool and
untouched, she opened her eyes to find the boy staring down at her with pure contempt. A menacing light emanated from his eyes. He parted his lips on a soft growl, reminding her of a werewolf, and her blood turned to ice.
“You ruined my life,” he whispered in a semi-harsh tone, accusing.
Wide awake now, facts hit her like an avalanche. A stranger was in her bed, her gun was in the dresser, and he was big enough to overpower her. Feeling vulnerable made her sick to her stomach. It also filled her with unquenchable anger. How dare this stupid boy invade her bedroom, her bed, and threaten her!
Speaking in a firm tone without the slightest quiver, she asked, “How did you get in here?” He rolled off the mattress, no hurry, while she pulled the sheet higher to hide the bunny pajamas. They were ridiculous, sky blue with fluffy scampering white rabbits. Knowing her hair was a mess, she automatically reached up to smooth it down. At the last second she stayed her hand. Why should she care if he thought she was pretty? “Did Connor let you in?”
Her uncle wasn’t known for having the greatest judgment in the world.
The intruder grinned and took two steps back until beams of moonlight exposed the left side of his body. Tall and muscular, the guy was built better than any of the boys at school. If she had to guess, she would say he was between eighteen and twenty-two. Utterly masculine, he also had a lot of features girls would be envious of, long lashes, thick hair, and beautiful eyes. They were the most amazing shade of green, like a place deep in the forest after a violent thunderstorm.
He grinned as if hearing her thoughts. “I thought it was every teen girl’s secret fantasy to have me in her bedroom. Was I wrong?”
It was then she recognized him, Tyler Beck, lead singer for the notorious band called Bad-Rock. There was a celebrity in her bedroom. Gulp! For a moment she forgot to breathe. How was it even possible? Why would a rock star come to her home in the middle of the night? She had to be dreaming.
He picked the CD collection off the edge of the white wicker dresser and carelessly leafed through them, lips twisted in disgust. A few of the CDs wound up on the floor.
She blinked. “Am I... dreaming?”
“No.” The grin changed to a smirk. “I break into the homes of random girls all the time... just to talk. Being a rock star doesn’t keep me busy enough.” He raised an eyebrow and held up the next CD in the shortening stack. “Seriously? I wouldn’t listen to this if someone had a gun to my head.” He flicked it to the floor. “Your taste in music sucks.”
Although the CDs in his hands were a mixture of Country and Jazz, she loved Classic Rock like her dad. The discs didn’t belong to her. Nothing in the ridiculous girlie neon orange and pink room did with the exception of a few sentimental items she dragged from place to place, but she wasn’t going to explain her way of life to this intruder. If she wanted to bare her soul, she’d see a psychiatrist. Knowing it was a dream didn’t make her feel any better about him going through what he thought were her personal belongings.
“Why did you kill those people?” she asked out of curiosity. An image of dead bodies on a night club floor surfaced in her mind. It took effort not to shudder. “What did they ever do to you?”
He laughed, throaty and deep, sexy. The sound dried the inside of her mouth and she clenched her teeth, feeling betrayed by her own body. What was wrong with her? She hadn’t felt this way about a guy before. Why now? Why this murderer?
“What did they do to me?” he repeated her question. “Nothing.” Then he pointed a finger at her. “You, on the other hand, ruined my life.”
“Stop saying that. I don’t even know you. Before you killed those people I wasn’t aware we were on the same planet.”
“Ouch.” He placed a hand over his heart as if she’d wounded him. “So you aren’t one of my many adoring fans, huh?”
He put what was left of her CD collection on the dresser and reached for the tiny television, flipping it on without seeking permission. An old sit-com with a noisy family brought the square screen to life.
“No, I am not a fan. I don’t follow you on Twitter or turn the volume up when one of your dumb songs comes on the radio. I never think about you. Why are you in my head now?”
“You tell me. It’s your—”
“Dream. I know. You don’t have to keep saying it. I get it already.”
“Until this dream ends, what do you want to do?” His hungry gaze locked on her face, and he bit his lower lip as if he was once again thinking about kissing her.
Close to panicking now, she froze. The kisses she shared with Gavin were brief and passionless and always for the benefit of those watching. What would it feel like to kiss someone she actually wanted? Her skin burned from just looking at the guy. The chemistry between them had the potential to blow the roof off the house. If he touched her, she’d probably spontaneously combust.
Tyler Beck, the hottest rock singer on the planet, the boy every girl fantasized about stared at her with desire in his eyes. He planted a knee on the bed near her foot. His hand landed next to her upper thigh. The other knee and hand joined them on the mattress. Slowly he crawled up her body, careful not to touch her until he was once again hovering over her mouth. In a husky whisper he repeated, “What do you want to do? Talk? Fight? Make out?”
The challenging tone sent a chill through her, a bad sort of chill. Doubts surfaced. What if this wasn’t a dream? Maybe a monster had crossed over from the Spirit Realm in a Tyler Beck disguise to kill her. She needed to do something quick. If she died, it would be her own fault for being so stupid.
Her hand slid under the pink pillow behind her head to grab the ancient dagger she slept on. Gripping it hard, she prepared to attack. Something in her eyes tipped him off. Before she could bury the blade deep in his chest, he leaped off the bed without warning, flying backwards. He stumbled and hit the wall near the dresser. A picture of a girl sitting in a garden rocked sideways before falling off the nail.
“Another time then,” he mumbled before disappearing.
Bay-Lee blinked at the empty space where his body had been. A shaky laugh escaped her open mouth. She was dreaming. There wasn’t a monster out there that could vanish into thin air. Relaxed now, she collapsed on the mattress, breathing through her mouth. Something was seriously wrong with her, having a hot dream about a psycho rock star.
Maybe she should seek therapy.
K.C. Blake
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