Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: The Beast by A.R. Davis @writerardavis @sparklebooktour

 

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Title: The Beast
Author: A.R. Davis
Audience: Young Adult   
Genre: Fantasy
Format: E-book and Paperback
Publisher: Alice Davis
Cover by: Joseph Bradley
Editor: Kathrin DePue
Pages: 438
ISBN: 1514781743
ASIN: B010QVQ9RA
Date Published: 7/7/2015
 
 

 

The citizens of Leola live in fear of the dense, dark forest that borders their town. Men disappear into the brush or are found dismembered as if they were attacked by a rabid Beast. But fear of a different kind also breeds in the citizens of Leola. For Valerie Mason, starvation is worse than potentially disappearing. With her former guardsman father drowning his troubles in spirits, it’s up to Valerie to keep them afloat by any means necessary…even if it means breaking the law.   Young Aubrey, the future Lord of Leola, fears that once he dies, the pages of his personal history will be left blank. When he hears of the dangers threatening his town, he knows the only way ensure that he lives on in the memory of his people is to venture into the forest and defend it himself…even if it might cost him his life. Valerie and Young Aubrey must each breach the veil of trees again and again on their own quests. Will Valerie or Young Aubrey emerge victorious, or will they fall victim to their own demons and The Beast?

 

 

 

  

AMAZON / GOODREADS

 

 

Chapter 1

Valerie Mason emerged from the relative quiet of the forest and stepped back into the town of Leola just as the sun peaked above the buildings. She carried a bag of two dead rabbits whose blood was seeping through the bottom. She wrapped her arms around the bundle and walked as quickly and inconspicuously as she could, though the obvious tears around the skirt of her dress made it hard for her to blend in with the crowd. The hunters would not appreciate her encroaching on their territory again. She had been scolded a few times. The last time, they had taken her cargo away from her. She could not afford to have that happen again.
On her way to the marketplace, she passed the pub her father frequented. Valerie wondered if her father was in there now. She had half a mind to go look, but it would only delay her and it was quite useless otherwise. Last night, her father had returned home with a black eye and shards of glass embedded in his arm. With their combined salary, they were able to cover most of the doctor’s expenses. Whenever Valerie had any doubts about the necessity of her going into the forest to steal, she was reminded of the reason she had to continue with this dirty business. If Valerie refused to steal meat from the hunters’ traps, they would have had to choose between rent and supper—or doctor’s visits and rent and supper. Was it so wrong with the fact that she did not want them to starve?
Her father was, of course, apologetic as always, and as always, she forgave him before the words were even out of his mouth. It was easier for Valerie to forgive than to be angry with him. After all, he was all she had left, and she could not lose him, even if sometimes it felt like he was determined to be lost. Her father assured her that the other man struck first. The childish part of Valerie wanted to ask, “But why did you have to strike back?”
Valerie turned sixteen the previous spring, and she was too old to ask such naïve questions. She was of age to be considered for marriage, but there were no suitors lining up at her door, not that Valerie was interested in such things. She was only thinking about her father. Although, if she married, it might be easier to take care of him.
The town of Leola was drinking in the remains of late-summer. Women hung their laundry out the window, on the line between buildings. Wet slopping sounds of waste being tossed down into the alleyways could be heard as it spilled down the cobble-stone streets toward the main road. Lord Aubrey’s guardsmen marched in a unified line carrying rifles, their metal armor winking in the sunlight. Several passersby waved hello to Valerie, and she waved back cautiously. Children ran breathlessly as they chased each other, their laughter ringing in the air and mixing with the incoherent shouts of stall owners. Horses clopped lazily along pulling their carriages with heads bowed low as though they feared to make eye contact with beings around them. The aromas of waste, horse hide, and baking bread created a strange concoction in the air. All of this blended together to form the smell of the town that Valerie knew best.
She stopped in front of the tailor’s display window. The tailor himself was arranging a beautiful emerald gown for all of Leola to see. There was already a group of girls standing in front of the window, pointing, giggling, and gossiping. Valerie took a moment to imagine herself in that gown. Maybe she would join the girls in their gossip. Maybe she would be invited to one of Lord Aubrey’s parties, and he would be so impressed by her wit and charm that he would give her enough money to take care of her father forever.
The weight of the dead rabbits was enough to snap her out of her momentary daydream. No lady could carry such cargo and still be considered lovely or charming or witty. Valerie thought she had completely rid herself of such fantasies, but they kept finding her as though she was engaging them in an endless game of hide and seek.
A severely strict looking woman, who wore her hair in a bun so tight that it appeared to pull her face up toward her ears, was just turning the sign from Closed to Open on the front door of the bookshop. Valerie waited patiently for Mrs. Lind to finish arranging the books in front of the display window before walking inside.
The bell rang when Valerie pushed the door open. Mrs. Lind promptly swiveled around wearing a scarily forced smile and folded her hands in front of her. Her voice rose to an unnaturally high pitch.
“Wel –” she said before dropping three octaves into a low, disappointed tone. “Oh. It’s you”—her substitute for “Good morning.”
Altogether, it wasn’t said unkindly, though anyone else might have taken offense. Valerie simply shrugged it off.
Mrs. Lind snatched the bag away from Valerie. She made a face like something smelled rotten. “Did anyone see you?”
“No, ma’am.” If they did, you would already know, Valerie thought. It was best to keep such comments to herself. She didn’t want to argue with Mrs. Lind and lose her job. Even though she was only allowed to clean the shop and alphabetize the books, Valerie enjoyed it. There was something about being quiet in a room where hundreds of stories were at her fingertips. It was the only place where Valerie felt she was in control of anything.
“If they catch you, I’ll have to fire you. And I’ll pretend I knew nothing.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Mrs. Lind sniffed. “Is that all you can say to me?” She imitated Valerie’s tone, “Yes, ma’am. No, ma’am. Are you a machine?”
Valerie didn’t know how else to respond to that question. “No, ma’am.” Though some days, she did feel like a machine. This was one of those days.
Mrs. Lind sighed with a hint of pity and stored the bag in a safe place where the rabbits would take longer to rot. Then she returned to Valerie, touting.
“What on earth are we going to do with you, child?” Mrs. Lind asked as she pinched Valerie’s torn skirt. “If your father finds out about this, he’ll have my head!”
Valerie wondered what Mrs. Lind would say if she told her that not only did her father already know but that he had given her a knife for her birthday. “If you’re going to disobey me,” he said, “you may as well defend yourself while you do so.” Valerie had only ever used it to finish what the traps started.
Mrs. Lind continued to fret over Valerie and Valerie let her because, in a way, it was nice to be the subject of someone else’s worry, rather than the worrier, for a change.
“If you leave this with me tomorrow, I can probably fix it,” Mrs. Lind said about the sleeve of Valerie’s dress, “I can’t make any promises, however.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Valerie said.
“Yes, yes. You can keep your thanks. I’d rather you show your gratitude by stopping this nonsense altogether.”
Mrs. Lind narrowed her eyes at Valerie as though waiting for her to promise that she would do just that. But Valerie couldn’t, and, frankly, Mrs. Lind knew that too.
After a moment of silence between them, Mrs. Lind said, “Can you please re-alphabetize the adventure stories? And when you’re done, dust the top of the shelves.”
“Yes –”
“If you finish saying what I think you’re going to say, so help me, I will do what your father refuses to.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Valerie said under her breath.
Mrs. Lind resigned to the counter while Valerie started her work. Children were their most frequent patrons, and sometimes they would leave sections in disarray. They loved holding the books in their hands and looking at the pictures. Some of them couldn’t quite make out the words. Sometimes Valerie would read to them. She liked watching their eyes widen in wonder. It reminded her of when she was a little girl; she used to stay up late to listen to her father’s stories, especially the one about the Beast. That was always her favorite.
Valerie could appreciate the adventures of dreaded pirates and Greek heroes, but her favorite genre was romance. There were rarely any female characters in adventure stories, and most of them were spoken of rather than seen. In the romance books, the ladies were sometimes permitted to follow the hero wherever he went. There was a sort of magic to them; no matter what dire situations the couples were plagued with, they always succeeded and ended up together. Valerie once thought her parents would make great characters in a romance novel. Her father was utterly mad about her mother, and her death was almost too much for him to bear. Coupled with what happened to him during the war, Valerie could almost understand why he turned to drinking and fighting. In a way, reading those books was Valerie’s “drink.” When she read about heroines like Caroline and Cynthia and Emily, she found herself stepping into their shoes, becoming mysterious, sweet, and desirable all at once. Sometimes, when she looked at herself in the mirror, she would recall her favorite lines and pretend she was wearing those pretty dresses in the window of the tailor’s shop. And the heroes they met weren’t half bad, either. Saxon and Daniel and Gregory: she could see herself spending time with them if they were real.
What she could live without was the stupid dialogue between the characters, the proclamations of everlasting love. Love was not everlasting.
Her mother’s death had taught her that much.
Mrs. Lind promptly closed shop when the clock tower began to ring the four o’clock hour. She gave Valerie a wary glance as she held up the bag of dead rabbits, as though she was deciding whether or not to give it back and whether doing so would be an act of encouragement. It spoke volumes that Mrs. Lind handed over Valerie’s pay before she handed over the rabbits. In the end, she gave them to Valerie without much fuss.
“Until tomorrow,” she said.
Valerie wished her a good evening (adding a “ma’am” at the end for good measure) and proceeded down the lane to her house. The buildings along her street reminded her of crooked teeth in a grey mouth. They certainly weren’t as nice as the buildings near Aubrey Manor. The manor rested on the tallest hill in Leola, and Valerie saw it as a white eye staring down at the rest of the town. Valerie had only ever seen Lord Aubrey once when he dismissed her father from the guardsmen’s service. She barely remembered him. She supposed she should hate Lord Aubrey—that she should blame him for everything her father went through—but being angry at him was like being angry at the wall. There were more important matters that required her energy, such as making it home in time to make a good rabbit stew and whether or not her father would be home on time to enjoy it.
She entered her house to see her father sitting at the dining table as though he had been waiting for her for quite some time. He undoubtedly still felt guilty about last night. He meant well. He always did.
Valerie resembled her father more than her mother. She had his dark brown eyes and long, lanky frame. She did not have her father’s scarred, leathery skin and the despair he often wore like a branding mark. War left him to deal with ghosts and a bad leg. When her mother was alive, her father smiled all the time. When she reminded her father of that now, he replied, “Now I save all my best smiles for you.”
Her father was offering his best smile now. He greeted her with an embrace and a kiss to the top of her head. “Did you have a good day at the shop?” he asked. He glanced down at the bag in her hand and then quickly looked away as though he could not bear to see it.
“Yes, Papa. Did you have a good day at the smith’s?”
Her father worked at the gunsmith near the edge of upper-Leola. He helped make guns for Lord Aubrey’s men.
“It was tolerable,” her father said. “Everyone is stressed about the deadline. It seems nobody is ready for Lord Aubrey’s son to take the seat.”
Valerie set the dead rabbits on the counter. “I’m sure you will make it. You always do.”
Her father stood at the dining table. Valerie could feel his eyes on her back.
“Did you have many customers?” he asked.
“A few. They came in sparingly.”
“That is unfortunate. Did you bring anything to read?”
“A Saxon Matthews book.” Saxon Matthews was a romance series that Valerie loved. She sometimes read them to her father while he sat in his chair and smoked his pipe. He’d say, “Now there’s a man I’d want to see you with,” at her description of the series hero.
“Ah. I wonder what he’s up to this time.”
“Well, we’ll see after supper.”
Valerie succeeded in removing the heads and began skinning the bodies. The smell of blood was potent.
“Did you hear about Mr. Randall?” her father asked.
Valerie sighed. She did not know Mr. Randall, but she was certain she knew what happened to him. “No, I did not.”
“He’s gone missing—has been gone for several days now.”
Valerie had heard such stories of people vanishing in the forest. At first, she thought they were tales to warn children against going in and getting lost under the dense crown of trees. However, a few days after her birthday, Mrs. Knott’s son left to get married and was never heard from again. Disappearing was a frightening prospect, but to Valerie, starvation was worse.
“That is unfortunate, Papa.”
“It’s been happening quite a lot recently—more people missing every day. I hear Lord Aubrey is considering sending his men into the forest to investigate.”
“Hmm.”
“The guards might catch you stealing.”
If they do, I’ll act like I’m thick in the head, Valerie thought. That’s what got her out of most similar situations. I don’t know any better, sirs. I was just trying to help the poor animal.
“Or you might be…”
Valerie turned to face her father. His hand was on his mouth as though he couldn’t bear to say the word.
“You know I don’t mean to keep…” His shoulders slumped over in defeat.
“I know,” Valerie said softly.
“Things are going to get better,” he continued. “I’m not going to keep forcing you to put yourself in danger. I’m going to get better. I’m going to be a better father.”
“Papa –”
He held up his hand. “Don’t. I’m supposed to keep us together. If I can’t fulfill that duty, then I am less than a man.”
Valerie walked over to him and embraced him as tight as she could. She had heard those words before. Their effect had dulled over time, but she could never stop loving her father.
He meant well.
He always did.

 

 

A.R. DAVIS first picked up writing at age six after getting annoyed that the characters weren't right in a Donkey Kong Country novelization. She loved it so much that she went on to graduate with a BFA in Creative Writing at UNCW. Visit her site: http://pencilprofessional.com/ to learn more and connect.

 

 

 

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Character Name: Valerie Mason

Character Bio:

Age: 17 years old at the time of this interview
Town of Birth: Leola
Known Whereabouts: Unknown
Parents: Deceased
Hair color: Brown
Eye color: Hazel
(This is the last known interview Ms. Mason was willing to give. As you can see, she offers no explanation of where she had been for the last year. We know she was living with someone and was possibly involved romantically, though she denies it. She was found by a group of Lord Aubrey’s men, and it is speculated that she had been wandering in the woods for several days. She had been held at the Aubrey estate for about three weeks. During the time of the execution, she had escaped. No one has seen or heard from her since.)

 

Describe yourself what is your worst and best quality?

I think my best quality is my perseverance. Even when things get rough, I try to keep going. I do my best to care for others, even setting aside what I want because I don’t want to be selfish. And I always try to see the good in people. My father killed many in the war, but I still think he’s a good man.

My worst quality would have to be that I care too much sometimes. It sort of . . . well, it didn’t go well for me. That’s all I’ll say.

What is the one thing you wish other people knew about you?

I wish other people knew about my life before . . . well . . . before everything happened. After I lost everything. Most people look at me with pity now. But all that, I was normal and happy and relatively unknown. I wish I could go back to that time.

What is your biggest secret something no one knows about?

It’s . . . I . . . I don’t know if I want to talk about it, yet. It’s still raw for me. All I will say is that I did the best I could. I only wanted to be happy, and I wanted to be selfish. And I thought that, if I could just keep pretending, I could stay there.

Was that really so wrong of me?

What are you most afraid of?

I’m afraid of the future. I’m honestly not sure what’s going to happen to me now. I’ve had this worry ever since my mother died, and I don’t know if it will ever go away. But I have to keep going, right? I have to see things through, even if I’d rather just stay in bed sometimes.

What do you want more than anything?

I just want to be happy and live a good, full life. I want to see the world and stop being so ignorant of the things I don’t know.

What is your relationship status?

. . .

It’s over. Though, I suppose it never really started. I think he loved me. And I think I wanted him to. But maybe that was all a lie.

Sorry, I’m rambling.

How would you describe your sense of fashion?

I wear whatever is convenient and whatever I can afford.

How much of a rebel are you?

More than I’d like to admit, I suppose. I didn’t exactly follow the normal society rules when I agreed – I mean, after I agreed. I didn’t exactly agree the first time – to live with him. But maybe that isn’t exactly rebellious.

What do you considered to be your greatest achievement?

I don’t think I’ve quite gotten there yet. Wouldn’t it be sad if the greatest thing I was ever going to do happened right now? Then what would I have to look forward to? Right now, I live my life. I’m trying to figure out what I’m moving towards.

What is your idea of happiness?

Getting on a ship and traveling the world. Also reading all of the Saxon Matthew books in existence. You haven’t heard of it? You can borrow one of mine. But only borrow. I would like to have that back.

What is your current state of mind?

I have a lot of regret. And I think . . . I think I miss him. Is that strange? How could someone like that be the most important person in my life? And yet that’s how it is. Sometimes I wonder if he even thinks of me.

Probably not. It’s not like I really meant anything to him.

What is your most treasured possession?

The figurine of The Beast. It was the only real possession my father owned. That, and the book I’m going to let you borrow.

How did I get it?

You’ll have to ask him.

What is your most marked characteristic?

I have my mother’s hair. It’s curly to the point of being unruly. It doesn’t matter how many times I brush it; it still insists on poofing out like a little brown cloud.

What is it that you most dislike?

Dishonesty. People keeping me against my will. People thinking they know what I want in my life. People not telling me how they feel.

Which living person do you most despise?

Are you really asking me that? After all I’ve told you? I would think it would be obvious.

You can miss and hate someone. Feelings are complicated. They don’t have to be neatly categorized like books.

It’s funny because if you had asked me before all this, I would have said my father. Sometimes I blame him just as much as myself. But he’s gone. Has been for a while. It wouldn’t be fair of me.

What is your greatest regret?

That I wasn’t there for my father when he needed me most.

What is the quality you most like in a man?

I . . . uh, I don’t know. Honesty. He has to like reading, at least. He has to be kind. Understanding. Do you think you could be my type? Or does my past disarm you?

You don’t have to answer that. I was only kidding with you.

Here’s a handkerchief to wipe the sweat off your brow.

What is the quality you most like in a woman?

I like your way of forward thinking! I’ve never actually thought about being with a woman. I suppose I would value the same qualities as I do in a man. It all depends on if I would be ready for a relationship with either. If I could rid myself of my lingering feelings, it would be easier.

No, I never said I loved him. I said I missed him. There’s a distinction.

Who is your favorite hero in fiction?

Saxon Matthews. I hear there might be a new book soon.

Which living person do you most admire?

Captain Jonasson. He is a good, honest man. I appreciated what he’s done for me while I’m here.

What is your motto?

“It is better to travel well than to arrive.” –Buddha

Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: The Talented 2: Past Lives Revealed by Desy Smith

 

 

The Talented 2:

Past Lives Revealed

The Talented

Book Two

Desy Smith

Genre: YA Romance Fantasy Fiction

Publisher: Floebe Publishing

Date of Publication: September 20, 2015

ISBN: 978-1512216714

ASIN: 1512216712

Number of pages: 223

Word Count: 55,377

Cover Artist: Rose Smith

Book Description:

Carmel’s time at the H.O.T hasn’t been all that pleasant. She’s gotten drugged, captured, and had to endure her painful change. When Carmel finally starts to enjoy her life at the H.O.T with her friends and her boyfriend Devon; Queen Ice, her annoying past life, contacts her. Queen Ice not only tells her about the impending battle between the good angels and the evil angels, she also continues to pop up in Carmel’s mind, showing her images from her life in the past. Now, Carmel, her friends along with her boyfriend, race to find a sword that they believe will give them leverage in the battle to come.

Unfortunately it isn’t as easy as it seems. There are others who are aware of the sword, and they’ll do anything to retrieve it before Carmel does. In addition, Carmel can’t use her Water or Ice Talent to help in the battle and she doesn’t know why! On top of that, there’s one or more people in Carmel's group who aren’t whom they say they are. Can Carmel find the sword? Will she be able to figure out why her Talents aren’t working? Can she discover who in the group is lying to her and the others about who they really are?

Be sure to read the second series of The Talented by Author Desy Smith to see how the story unfolds!

Available at Amazon and DesySmith.wix.com

We’re a couple of streets down from the museum, waiting on Devon to issue instructions. Earlier, as we laid in bed, I brought up Ms. Platinum Blonde from the airport. Her name is Tray and as I thought, it wasn’t anything serious. He did sleep with her before he met me and that was it. It was just about sex, and honestly, that didn’t bother me. I knew Devon had a life before he met me. I would be dumb to think otherwise.

“Okay, so here’s the plan, we go in teams of two.” Devon says inside the car outside the museum. I know I should have been overjoyed because this is my first mission with them. But I’m not. My lower back was bothering me. But I endure the pain, because I knew if Devon found out, I would be left behind, again. “Mel and Ricky are one team, and Flora.” He says her name with disgust. “And I are another team.”

“Oh, no sir.” Flora says. “I would rather go by myself.”

“Flora, go with Devon. This will give you two time to bond with each other.” I add. I look at Ricky who is nodding his head in agreement.

“I don’t want to bond with him!” Flora yells. Ricky gently grabs her and they both get out the car and start talking, well, arguing.

“I told you she wouldn’t want to do it.” Devon says. I roll my eyes.

“You weren’t very nice about it.”

“Really? I thought I was.” Liar. Flora and Ricky open the car door.

“Okay, we’re ready, and Flora said she would be honored to be in your company.” Ricky says.

“You’re pushing it.” Flora replies with her arms cross, glaring at Devon.

We make our way toward the back entrance of the museum, where two dead police officers are holding the door open.

“Someone’s already here.” Devon says and Flora gives him a ‘duh’ look. He and Ricky move them both inside the door and close it. I notice the alarm on the right side of the door, smoking.

“The alarm system has been fried, which prevents the alarm from being triggered.” He tells us. “Okay, let’s go ahead and split up. Flora and I will take downstairs, Mel and Ricky will take the second floor and we will meet on the third floor, and divide that equally.” He turns his attention to Ricky. “If anything happens to Carmel, do know I will take your life.” Ricky sighs while I roll my eyes. There he goes again, threatening to kill people.

The museum is really creepy at night without any lighting and people. I and Ricky’s first stop is the Egyptian room.

“Did the Egyptians exist when the angels were here?” I question. Even though my back is killing me, and I want to soak in a bathtub, eating eggs with syrup, I am joyous because I have alone time with Ricky, which means I can grill him.

“Yes, remember the angels came down when Adam and Eve were placed on earth.” Oh yeah. I start to recall the story Flora told me.

“Your great times 10 grandfather knows a lot about the Angels.” I say as I pick up another vase and look inside before tossing it in the ‘don’t need’ pile. “I think it’s amazing how the stories of Queen Ice were passed down from child to child, but maybe they’re a little less than factual.”

“I don’t believe I understand what you’re implying.” I turn to look at him, and try to make out his facial expression but couldn’t because of the moonlight being the only lighting in the museum.

“I’m just saying people tell stories to each other and sometimes they add a little extra in. Who’s to say that didn’t happen?” I’m purposely trying to anger him, hoping his rage will make him spill his secret accidently.

“It didn’t.”

“How would you know? You weren’t there?” I stand up. “Or were you?”

“You’re acting like Devon now. Do you have something to say, or will you speak in riddles for the rest of the night?” Ricky states calmly, showing no signs of anger.

“Were you there, Ricky?” I ask, getting to the point, enough of the bull crap.

“There, as in I was an Angel in the Angel era?”

“Yes.” He laughs.

“That’s unlikely, I would be very old and senile.” Anything is possible, I say to myself, repeating what Ice told me weeks ago.

“Well, I don’t believe we age like humans. Actually, I think we can be century’s old and still look young.” Like Ricky, I thought. “Time doesn’t matter to us.” Suddenly, a light bulb goes off in my mind. I make my way to the wall where a directory is hung. I notice a room on the third floor dedicated to artifacts with no accurate time. Otherwise known as the Timeless room. The vase has to be in there.

“I think I figured it out, Ricky.”

“What, how angels age?” I shake my head.

“Nope, I think I know where the vase is at.” I run out the door, ignoring Ricky as he calls my name, and up the stairs. I walk down the hall until I come upon a cracked door with the words Timeless printed in white calligraphy on the door. I found it.

I’m sitting on the floor, looking through another row of blue vases. I was starting to understand how Devon felt, this whole thing is repetitive and annoying. I want to find the vase and be done with this part of the mission. I keep asking Ice if she sees the vase, but of course, when I need her the most, she ignores me.

I get ready to give up, until a particular vase catches my attention in the moonlight, almost like God was putting a spotlight on it. The vase is round, and blue with snow white flames from the bottom to top. It’s really beautiful. I go to grab it and turn it upside down. On the bottom there is an engraving.

“Engraved it shall say To Queen, From Flame.” Ice says. Look who finally decides to make an appearance. I look at the inscription and it says just that.

Character Name: Devon

Character Bio: He’s 5’10 with green eyes, and short black hair. His skin is golden due to his mixed heritage. He’s 20, and his Talents are Water, Earth, Air and Fire. Nonchalant he may appear to be, but in reality his true nature is kill now, deal with the consequences later. This rash judgement causes many people to hate and fear him; which he’s okay with. His enemies are as numerous as the stars in the sky. His love for his equal Carmel is uncontrollable; he would move mountains for her. Devon believes she sees the good in him and because of her, he knows he can become a better man. Devon would be ultimately satisfied if he and Carmel were the only two people in the whole wide world.

 

Describe yourself what is your worst and vest quality?

My worst quality is being awesome.

I possess all four talents: water, earth air and fire. I’m pretty much indestructible. My worst quality according to my girlfriend is my attitude.

What is the one thing you wish other people knew about you?

I’m misunderstood, and that’s not my fault.

What is your biggest secret something no one knows about?

It wouldn’t be a secret if I told you.

What are you most afraid of?

My destiny, my future

What do you want more than anything?

To stay with Carmel forever.

What is your relationship status?

Taken and very happy.

How would you describe your sense of fashion?

Non-existence, if it were up to me, I wouldn’t wear any clothing.

How much of a rebel are you?

On a scale of 1-10, a 100.

What do you considered to be your greatest achievement?

You’ll have to read book three to find that out.

What is your idea of happiness?

My idea of happiness is being with Carmel alone and forever, not having to deal with angels good or bad, and Flora’s nosy butt.

What is your current state of mind?

Right now I’m worried about Carmel finding out my secret.

What is your most treasured possession?

Carmel

What is your most marked characteristic?

My attitude.

What is it that you, most dislike?

My privacy and Flora, okay maybe not.

Which living person do you, most despise?

I do not know if he could be counted as a living person, but Lucifer Morningstar.

What is your greatest regret?

You guys are asking a lot of question; I can’t answer without giving away the third book.

What is the quality you most like in a man?

Courage

What is the quality you most like in a woman?

Compassion

Who is your favorite hero in fiction?

The monster of Frankenstein, as he was misunderstood and created so was I, and I can relate to that.

Which living person do you most admire?

Good question, and no one. I tend to not admire humans.

If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?

How I was made.

What is your motto?

Que sera sera

 

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Desiree “Desy” Smith was born and raised in Dallas, Texas. As an avid reader, Desy read several books until she ran out of things to read. Having nothing else to read, at the age of thirteen, she decided to write her own book. Her love for reading soon turned into a passion for writing. She self-published her first book, The Talented, under Floebe Publishing, which she started to give a voice to new and aspiring authors. Desy writes to inspire and to provide an escape for anyone who wants to live in a fantasy world without worrying about the challenges of everyday life. The Talented is part one of a five part series, with the second installment arriving finally here. Currently, Desy is hard at work on her third novel, Supernatural Resident Advisor with an expected release date of October 2015. Desy’s genre of choice is fantasy romance fiction. Aside from reading and writing Desy enjoys various types of food, especially dessert. When she’s not reading she can probably be found eating a cupcake or two.

Web: www.desysmith.wix.com/desysmith

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Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: The Vampire, The Handler, and Me by Eileen Sheehan @AuthorSheehan

 

 

The Vampire, The Handler, and Me

Eileen Sheehan

Genre: paranormal romance

Publisher: Eternal Press, LLC

Date of Publication: September 1, 2015

ISBN: 978-1629293110

ASIN: B01494XZB8

Number of pages: 202

Word Count: 100 k

Cover Artist: Dawne Dominique

Book Description:

In a romantic triangle of good and bad, it's hard to tell who is good and who is bad.

Lizzy Ewing is caught in a romantic triangle between a two enemies; the handsome vampire, Nevi, and the hunky handler, Geoffrey. A handler herself, Lizzy must choose between Nevi and Geoffrey. One wants her for all the right reasons and one doesn't.

Will she discover who is who before the bad destroys the good?

Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/_uPA_tE9aU8

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“My name is Nevi, Nevi Sharpe,” he said with a deep, sultry accent. “May I ask with whom I have the pleasure of sharing scratch-off tickets?”

I wanted to answer him but I was still stuck on stupid. I opened my mouth to speak and absolutely nothing came out.

How embarrassing.

How ridiculous.

How mortifying.

He was just a man, after all. What was my issue?

I just couldn’t move past the sense of magnificence that permeated the air around him. It was both electrifying and nerve wracking.

“You have a phone call,” blurted the bland voice of Miss Congeniality as she approached my newly discovered god-man with a cordless phone.

“Please excuse me,” he murmured in my direction as he snapped the phone from the clerk’s hand, obviously unhappy to be disturbed.

“Lizzy. Lizzy Ewing,” I forced past my lips as he stood up. “My name’s Lizzy Ewing.”

I could feel flames consume my cheeks when I realized how desperate my voice must have sounded. He studied me with dancing eyes—momentarily forgetting his annoyance about the phone call.“Nice to meet you, Lizzy Ewing,” he said warmly. “Please excuse me.”

With that, he lifted the phone unceremoniously to his ear and disappeared through a doorway behind the counter. I assumed it led to his office. At the faint sound of another door shutting behind that door, I felt I assumed right.

The clerk shuffled through the array of lotto tickets spread out on the counter in front of me with a notable smirk on her broad, acne infested face before looking up at me. “That’ll be twenty-five dollars,” she stated smugly.

I stood there looking at her for a brief moment while it registered with me…I was getting stuck with the entire bill of my not so private scratch-off tryst!

 

Character Name: Lizzy Ewing

Character Bio: Born in Westchester County, NY, Lizzy Ewing grew up enjoying the luxury of travel and rubbing elbows with the elite at the local country club. The daughter of a retired chef, she went to a culinary institute only to utilize her education and talents in a small town diner as the cook and part-time waitress. Sharing the same birthday as her older, beautiful, and ever so popular sister, she suffered sibling rivalry and taunting while living in her shadow. This resulted in a bruised ego and inferiority complex. She finally came into her own around her twenty-fifth birthday when she met vampire Nevi Sharpe.

If you can add a dreamcast pic of the character that would be greatJ

Describe yourself what is your worst and vest quality?

I would have to say my best quality is my ability for compassion when others can't find the means to offer it. My worst quality would have to be my lack of confidence that I'm working on lessening but has been with me a long time so may take a while to shift.

What is the one thing you wish other people knew about you?

I wish I could tell the world that I'm a powerhouse when it comes to hunting down vampires, werewolves and such, but that's a side of me that has to stay low profile.

What is your biggest secret something no one knows about?

I sometimes wish I was a vampire so I could see the world through their eyes and live as long as the ones I love, yet I'm fearful of becoming one. Crazy, huh?

What are you most afraid of?

Dying before Nevi and our son, Bobby.

What do you want more than anything?

To live a good life with Nevi and Bobby and possibly have more children.

What is your relationship status?

Waiting for that marriage proposal I know is on the tip of Nevi's stubborn tongue.

How would you describe your sense of fashion?

I can dress for the occasion quite nicely, but most of the time I go casual.

How much of a rebel are you?

I stand up for myself when need be but I wouldn't call myself a rebel.

What do you considered to be your greatest achievement?

Giving birth to a beautiful half- vampire boy.

What is your idea of happiness?

Being Nevi's wife and raising our son together.

What is your current state of mind?

I'm happy to have Nevi back safe and sound and to be free of Geoffrey.

What is your most treasured possession?

Bobby

What is your most marked characteristic?

My waist long hair

What is it that you most dislike?

The fact that it takes so long to wash, dry and style my thick waist long hair!

Which living person do you most despise?

Geoffrey. I regret calling 911 for him.

What is your greatest regret?

Having to be the one required to cut mys sister's head off her dead body.

What is the quality you most like in a man?

Honesty

What is the quality you most like in a woman?

The same but compassion runs a close second.

Who is your favorite hero in fiction?

That would have to be Van Helsing. I love vampires who are lovers but not vampires who are evil and viscous so you go Van Helsing!

Which living person do you most admire?

Nevi. Since he's half human and vampires aren't the hollow chested creatures story tellers make them out to be, but very much alive, he's definitely the one I admire the most. He's compassionate, worldly, wise, rich, handsome and really sexy.

If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?

I'd get my psychic abilities under control.

What is your motto?

Listen to your heart, not your head.

 

 

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Eileen Sheehan lives in her native upstate New York where she enjoys the beauty of the New York Countryside.

When she is not sitting at the computer creating a new fantasy, she can be found helping her clients through her holistic business as Lena Sheehan a.k.a. Psychic Lena.

She takes advantage of her experiences, wisdom and knowledge of the paranormal and often finds ways to insert them into her writings.

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Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: Bash by Candace Blevins CandaceBlevins

 

Bash, Volume I

Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club

Book Three

Candace Blevins

Genre: Motorcycle Club,

Paranormal Romance, BDSM

Publisher: Excessica

Date of Publication: October 16, 2015

Number of pages: 425

Word Count: 63,000

Cover Artist: Syneca Featherstone

Book Description:

What do you get when you mix a bad-ass werewolf biker with a beautiful she-wolf who grew up as the MC President’s daughter?

Sparks.

Book one of the Bash trilogy…

Angelica was raised not only as a biker’s daughter, but as Bud’s daughter — the president of the Atlanta RTMC, which meant she also had dozens of ‘uncles’ who made sure she was safe, happy, loved, secure.

Needless to say, her virginity was still solidly intact when she left for college.

She goes to school up north, where no one knows she’s a biker’s daughter at heart, and thoroughly enjoys her time as a civilian. She gets rid of her pesky virginity right away, but is mostly a good girl while she buckles down to get her degree, staying at school even during the summers to take as many classes as she can fit in.

She’s a different person when she comes home with her Master’s degree, and in spite of her intention to remain a civilian, some of the bikers don’t seem so much like uncles, anymore.

Warning: Lots of hot sex, a touch of BDSM, and an abundance of bad-ass werewolf bikers who are used to getting their way.

This is book one of a three book story. There’s a tiny cliffhanger at the end, but only three weeks until book two releases.

Chapter Two

Eight years ago

Angelica

Kayla met me in the bathroom after last period, and watched as I changed out of my super tiny mini-skirt into jeans. God, if my dad saw me in this skirt he’d have an aneurism.

“I can’t believe you lost Brain. God, Ang, he’s the best biker-bitch you’ve had yet.”

Speaking of aneurisms, my dad nearly had one when he found out Kayla called me Ang. He calls me Angel, but says no one else is allowed to shorten my name. One of the reasons I love Kayla is she isn’t afraid of my dad, or any of the other bikers, and she just kept calling me what she wanted.

I shrugged as I buttoned my jeans and stowed the skirt in my backpack. “I got one of the new guys, I’ve only met him a couple of times. He looks like he’s pissed at the world, and I seriously doubt he’s going to be any fucking help at all with my calculus or chemistry homework.”

“He have a cool name?” she asked as we left the bathroom.

“Bash, and best I can tell, it isn’t ‘cause he’s bashful. And damn, the boy is beautiful.” And he’d be so fucking pissed if he knew I’d called him a boy.

“How you gonna break him in?”

I shook my head. “Haven’t decided. He’s actually kinda scary, even for one of my dad’s men. Also, I don’t think he’s that much older than us. I know when he first came, he couldn’t have even the prospect patch yet, ’cause he wasn’t old enough. They treated him like one, which had to suck, but he didn’t get his first patch until a few weeks ago, so I think he just turned eighteen.”

“You know his story?”

I shook my head. “He has a fucked up accent though. He isn’t from around here.”

Kayla showed the assistant principal the note from her mom saying she could ride home with me, and he waved us to the RTMC vehicle waiting in the car line.

I got into the front passenger seat and settled my backpack at my feet as I put my seatbelt on and told him, “Bash, meet Kayla. She’s my BFF and you’re her ride now, too. Not just mine.”

He breathed deep, and I assumed he’d just realized she’s human and not wolf, and I added, “We have a problem, you take care of her first, then me. I can handle myself a few minutes, but she isn’t a fighter. Get me?”

He pulled forward and glanced in his rear view mirror at Kayla before looking forward again. “My orders are to keep you safe, Princess.”

I sighed and leaned my head back, looking at the road instead of him. “Those are your orders from my dad. Thing is, I can make your life a living hell if I want, or I can help make this a cushy assignment until you get your patch. I’ve grown up in the club, I know the drill. When Kayla and I became best friends in the fourth grade, our dads had a talk. Their agreement was she’d come to the house, but never to the club, and there’d be no parties at our house when she’s over. She hasn’t been around ya’ll much at all. Her parents have met my prospect chauffeurs over the years, and they’re mostly chilled about it now, but they’ll need to meet you sometime this week.”

“Basically,” Kayla said from the backseat, “you’re our bitch now. You’re our ride when we need one, and you go get stuff we need, even if it’s tampons at two in the morning. You’ll carry our packages for us when we go shopping at the mall, and if we ask if our ass looks fat when we try on clothes, you’ll be honest and tell it to us straight from a guy’s perspective.”

“And not,” I added, my voice low and deep, “from my father’s viewpoint.” I held my wolf in, so I didn’t growl at him in front of Kayla. “I know you’re supposed to cock-block us, but I also know you can’t actually hurt any of the guys.” He held his hand up, thinking he could silence me, and I said, “Fuck you, asshole. I’ll talk when I fuckin’ want to.”

He pulled into a church parking lot, put the SUV into park, tossed his cellphone into the little compartment in the dash, and got out.

Bash might only be eighteen, but he wasn’t a boy. He paced like a caged animal and I realized he was on the edge. This wasn’t a wolf thing, though — it was something else. He moved with a lethal, fluid grace that set something inside me on fire, and I didn’t get out of the vehicle, knowing he’d smell it on me.

I’d had a crush on my prospect when I was twelve, and my dad had given me someone else and then hadn’t assigned anyone else who was my type, since. Brain had truly been like a big brother to me. I mean, I knew he was dangerous, all the men of the RTMC are, but to me, they mean safety. I’m their little sister, the president’s daughter, and they’ll all protect me with their life.

I instinctively knew Bash didn’t necessarily represent safety for me, though.

With his back to me, he said, “Out of the car, Princess. You and I need to have a talk without your friend hearing.”

My insides shook from the threat of violence in his voice, and I didn’t want to get out of the car. I reminded myself he couldn’t hurt me without risking my dad’s wrath, and felt my body chilling out. I couldn’t go outside smelling of fear — he’d eat me alive.

I heard him with my wolf hearing, but Kayla wouldn’t have a clue he’d spoken. I sighed and told her, “Stay here a sec. Maybe we pushed him too hard? I’m gonna go talk to him.”

“He’s kind of scary, Ang.”

“My dad wouldn’t have assigned someone who’d hurt us, Kayla. I’ll just go talk to him a second. It’ll be okay.”

As I got out of the car, I suddenly wasn’t so sure my dad wouldn’t have upped his game with my prospects. He and my mom had a huge argument last week, but she convinced him it was time he let me start double-dating with an early curfew. She’d successfully argued they had to let me take baby-steps and learn responsibility slowly, or I’d go wild when I went off to college without him around to supervise my every move. He’d finally agreed to it, but only if my prospect tagged along. It was more than I’d hoped for, but at the time I’d thought it’d be Brain.

As I got out, Bash said, “Leave your cellphone — and anything else with a battery — in the car.”

This was standard RTMC procedure when we wanted to make sure we weren’t recorded. Apparently, he was gonna say stuff my dad wouldn’t approve of. I tossed my phone onto the dashboard, turned the radio up a little, and told Kayla, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

I followed him off the parking lot pavement into grass, assuring myself all the while that my dad wouldn’t have sent someone likely to hurt me. Still, Bash was harsher than the other guys my dad had assigned me, and I needed to be careful with my strategy. As soon as I caught up to him, he said, “Here’s the way it’s gonna be, Princess. I may not be able to bash any of your boy-toys’ heads in with witnesses around, but that don’t mean I can’t do it later. You want ‘em to live? You make sure they stay on my good side. Nobody disrespects someone in the RTMC, not even a prospect.” His voice deepened, and I heard his wolf. “Second thing, is you may be under RTMC protection, but you’re a split tail, and that means you do what you’re told. You want me to show you respect? You show it to me. I’ll throw your words right back at ya — we can either get along, or not. I don’t give a flying fuck which you choose, Princess. You think you can make my life hell? You have no idea what I can do to yours.”

Yeah, this I could work with. I gave him a half smile and shrugged one shoulder. “Take a deep breath, Bash. You smell any fear comin’ off me?”

He took a whiff, shook his head, his eyes suddenly a touch uncertain.

“My dad stopped assigning me guys I could walk all over when I was about eight. He’s miscalculated a few times, though he quickly gave me someone new once he figured it out. So, I can’t boss you around — okay, I get it.” I offered my hand. “Truce?”

He shook his head. “No, Princess. No truce just yet. Let’s give it a couple of days, see where we stand then.”

 

Character Name: Bash

Character Bio: Sargent at Arms of the Chattanooga chapter of the Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club.

Why did you become a biker?

Because it’s what I am. Who I am. Sometimes the family you were born into isn’t your real family, but life goes on. As soon as I met my brothers, I knew they were my brothers.

How much of a rebel are you?

Is rebel the right word? Most people call us outlaws, but really we just have our own laws. A hundred years ago it was acceptable to beat the shit out of someone you saw hit a woman, and you could shoot a man who stole your horse. The law says you can’t shoot someone for stealing your car or your bike now, and it’s apparently never okay to beat someone up anymore. Why is that?

What is your biggest secret, something no one knows about?

I’m answering your questions because my President says we gotta work with the press to help out our big charity drive, but you can’t ask me bullshit questions, doll.

What is your relationship status? Can you answer that?

I don’t do relationships, but if you’re free later I wouldn’t mind taking you for a ride.

What’s your real name?

Bash, darlin’. My real name is Bash. I have a different legal name, but that isn’t relevant.

How did you get your nickname?

‘Cause I’m so bashful.

You have to be one of the least bashful people I’ve ever met. No offense intended.

None taken, doll. We have a huge giant of a man named Tiny, too.

You know what the rumors are, right? That it’s because you bash people’s heads in?

I’ve heard the rumors.

So, you’re saying the rumors aren’t true?

I’m sayin’ I’ve heard the rumors.

What are you most afraid of?

Why don’t you stop asking the questions on your cute little tablet and come up with some real questions, darlin’.

I thought your president told you to answer my questions?

He didn’t say I had to answer the stupid ones, mostly because there’s nothing he could do to make me answer bullshit questions.

You don’t have to do what he says?

We function as a democracy, doll. The club votes on important stuff, the president just leads the meetings. We usually do as he asks on the small stuff, but if we don’t want to, we tell him our reasoning and then work it out for the good of the club.

How can the public help with your charity drive?

We have two projects going right now. We’re working with Bevering Construction to build a few handicap accessible houses for returning veterans, and folks who want to help are welcome to contribute funds or volunteer their time to help build the houses. We’re also restocking the local Women and Children’s Shelters with toys and art supplies, and I believe Duke gave you the list of participating stores where you can purchase the items and donate at the same time. We’re accepting donations at our restaurant, too, and you get twenty-five percent off your bill if you donate a newly purchased item.

I have the picture here — of you on your bike — to run with the article. You have to know our readers are going to want to know more about you, personally. I don’t want to get accused of asking bullshit questions again, so what will you answer? What will you tell us about yourself?

I’m a mechanic. I take bikes apart and put them back together so they run better. I also enjoy restoring classic cars to their former glory. I like to ride my bike, and the offer still stands to take you for a ride later, doll.

Let’s stick to the interview, for now. I note your boots, jeans, and leather vest, as well as all the big rings on your fingers. How would you describe your sense of fashion?

Sense of fashion? You’re back to the questions on your tablet, aren’t you? I ride a bike. I’m in an MC. I dress so the pavement has the least chance of eating my skin if I take a spill.

Thanks for answering most of my questions.

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Candace Blevins is a southern girl who loves to travel the world. She lives with her husband of 17 years and their two daughters. When not working or driving kids all over the place she can be found reading, writing, meditating, or swimming.

Candace writes BDSM Romance, Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, and is currently writing a kick-ass Motorcycle Club series.

Her Safeword Series gives us characters who happen to have some extreme kinks. Relationships can be difficult enough without throwing power exchange into the mix, and her books show characters who care enough about each other to fight to make the relationship work. Each book in the Safeword series highlights a couple with a different BDSM issue to resolve.

Her urban fantasy series, Only Human, gives us a world where weredragons, werewolves, werelions, three different species of vampires, as well as a variety of other mythological beings exist.

Candace's two paranormal romance series, The Chattanooga Supernaturals and The Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club, are both sister series to the Only Human series, and give some secondary characters their happily ever after.

You can visit Candace on the web at candaceblevins.com and feel free to friend her on Facebook at facebook.com/candacesblevins and Goodreads at goodreads.com/CandaceBlevins.

You can also join facebook.com/groups/CandacesKinksters to get sneak peeks into what she's writing now, images that inspire her, and the occasional juicy blurb.

Stay up to date on Candace’s newest releases, and get exclusive excerpts by joining her mailing list!

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Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: Dead of Night by Carlyle Labuschagne @CarlyleL

 

 

Dead of Night

The Aftershock Series

Book One

Carlyle Labuschagne

Genre: YA Dystopian

Publisher: Fire Quill Publishing

Date of Publication: September 21, 2015

ISBN: 978-0-9946536-9-7

Number of pages: 236

Word Count: 72 000

Cover Artist: Sandra Valente

Book Description:

In a dark and desolated After Earth, love still does exist, but the cost of bearing such a flaw is death.World War III has left Earth in utter turmoil. People’s beliefs are said to be the cause of the worldwide destruction. After The Clearing new laws are set about – to show certitude in anything besides the law is weak and chargeable as mutiny. To be illogical and have faith in religion is illegal, to be limitless is dangerous. And Illness is seen as a defect – all flaws that are inexcusable.

But to love is the greatest betrayal of all man kind. It is a fault the world has long forgotten and punishable by death, a fatal risk Aecker and Opel are fully prepared to take – because in love there is freedom. But how far can they push back before it claims their lives and of those they care about?

CHAPTER ONE

HEART ON FIRE

HIS VOICE ECHOES THROUGHOUT THE VAST room. It’s a voice I feel I could know, one that is as familiar to me as his handsome face. When he moves, the bunk’s springs squeak like a little rodent that is desperate to scurry away. I don’t mean to stare—but those soft gorgeous lips and strong jaw, the warm smile that brings sparkle to his honey-colored eyes, carries forth a loud voice in my head, telling me this boy can be trusted.

Lingering beneath his gentle stare I can see something else, the embers of concern. They drown out the spark in his stare as he waits for my answer.

Why would he show me this consideration? I don’t know who this beautiful stranger is.

I look around, realizing that I don’t even know who I am. Or, if the blue cotton uniform I am wearing is even mine. I glance back down at the green tin cup I hold in my hands, and the sweet and salty aroma of corn soup fills my nostrils.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” His voice is calm, but the quickening thump of his pulse and the tight set in his jaw relays something else entirely.

He inches closer, beads of sweat darkening his dusty blond hair, giving away the secret he is trying so hard to hide. He is upset. Nervous. Maybe both.

Is he withholding something?

Unknowingly, my head tilts to the side, trying to figure out what happened to me, and who this perfect stranger might be. And why I think I might know him. The stabbing sensation in my head throbs with each breath I take, making it hard for me to think clearly. I feel wrapped up in a thick fog, and just beyond it lives some useable memory.

From across the room, I stare at dirty clothes disregarded near the burn shoot. They reek of vomit and old blood. Staring at the clothes, I can immediately tell they belong to a female. The material is new, stretchy, and cut for a slim, short figure. Quickly glancing down at my body, I assume they could be mine―those clothes most definitely hold clues as to who I really am.

My familiar stranger sits across from me on the bunk bed, his body turned slightly toward mine. My hand creeps up to my head wound, making me wince at the feel of the raw, painful flesh. At my obvious discomfort, he immediately moves closer, his breath warm and sweet as he leans in. His gentle fingers lift the hair from my forehead as he inspects the injury. “We need to get you to a doctor.” His voice comes out shaky, uncertainty tainting his beautiful tone.

“No.” I jerk away. The dregs of my warm soup spill over the rim of the cup, splashing onto my raw fingers and wrists.

He watches me carefully as I stare forcefully into his eyes. His hand suddenly moves away and then I feel it―pain. I pull back farther, even though I crave his touch.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, moving one seat over, his back resting on the gray, concrete wall beside the bunk.

“It hurts,” I say, confused as to what hurts more, the wound or the fact that I have no idea what is going on. “How long have I been out?” I ask him.

He shrugs. “Not more than two days.”

I sigh at his answer, one that comes from somewhere deep and mournful inside me. As the feeling of loss wraps around me, it’s like a vice, squeezing tighter and tighter until I can’t breathe anymore. I close my eyes, attempting to block out whatever memory is making me feel so utterly terrified.

“It’s okay. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

I shake my head. “It’s not that.”

But, I must ask myself, who is ‘he’? Who is this brutal attacker I do not even remember?

Standing slowly, I place the soup cup on the wooden bench situated beside the metal-framed bed. As he looks up at me, I feel the sudden need to run far and fast and never look back.

“Thank you for your hospitality, but I-I must go.” I stumble over my words.

Moving too quickly, my head meets with the source of light above me. The light ebbs out for a second, and I pull in a sharp breath as pain shoots through me once again. Suddenly, I am terrified of the dark and feel myself reaching out for him. His forearm is soft, warm, strong, and alluring all at the same time. The fear that makes my pulse race alters slightly. I suddenly fear being trapped by an emotion I do not understand. Ruled by a feeling that is strong and fatal. I lose control of my thoughts.

He chuckles. “Where are you going to go in this storm?”

The light flickers back on. I look up as it continues to sway back and forth above us, searching the room for something, anything, yet I’m not sure what it might be. A feeling of anxiety washes over me. It’s so intense it spreads and enters my chest, as if a bald eagle has flown down to take my heart on gilded wings. The feeling to run tugs at me again. But when I look down, I notice I’m still gripping his arm. Instinct tells me that what I’m doing is wrong, that I should never be so close to a human.

“Sorry,” I apologize. When I release his forearm the golden color immediately returns to his flesh.

“It’s okay.” He smiles, invitingly. “Quite a grip you have there.” He keeps the grin, shaking out his hand as if I have stopped the blood from flowing through his veins.

I look away. “I can’t stay,” I announce, staring at the glimmer of light bouncing off the silver armlet wrapped tightly around my wrist―that shine, that glow, the entire piece is trying to remind me of something.

As he moves, the light brings out the blond streaks in his hair, and his shirt pulls tight around muscular pecks as he crosses his arms over his chest. He grins mockingly, and ever so slightly his feet shift toward me.

Nevertheless, I am aware of every single move he makes, like the way his eyelashes touch the top of his cheeks when he blinks, and how the corners of his eyes crease with the revelation of his gorgeous smile. His impeccable chest moves slowly as he breathes. His eyes hover on my face, making me shift uncomfortably. I don’t like the way he looks at me, it’s wrong. But I don’t know why I feel this way. All I know is that I don’t want to feel weak.

“What?” I ask sheepishly, suddenly feeling as if my dark, blue pantsuit has become transparent. Heat rushes to my face―an unexpected and unpleasant moment.

“You’ve been stalking me for weeks, and that’s all you have to say? You’re not even going to ask me my name? Or thank me for saving your life?”

It’s like an anchor falls, dropping me back to the depths of the uneven mattress. The squeak fades away as shock kicks me in the gut and allows me only one long, shuddering breath.

“I-I,” I falter. I have no recollection of my assault, or anything else that came before.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he whispers, his charming voice now peppered with unease. “It’s me, you can tell me anything. You know that, right?” Sitting down, he keeps his distance, as if making sure that I do not feel I am prey to his predator.

“I’m not sure…I know anything.” My brows furrow, as my fingers tremble over the soft skin of my lips. The frigid cold forms goose bumps on my skin as I stare into the thick, dark, naked concrete walls of the bunker. I am just that. I am colorless and empty. I have no present. And the past has vanished. I am back in that tunnel in the dead of night, with no sense of anything other than the blackness and the loneliness reaching out for me, attempting to make my soul crumble into dust.

“I don’t remember,” I finally admit, the words bitter and brief on my tongue.

I wait for a while in the silence of the moment, hoping my inner animosity will dissolve, and that the fear will leave me alone so I can figure things out. What thought might trigger a memory?

Gingerly, he grabs my hand and turns it, flattening my palm against his hard chest. “Aecker. My name is Aecker. You don’t remember me at all?”

I shake my head.

His eyes are gentle, digging up unsettled feelings within me. But he is not really sad or bothered by my sudden memory loss. In fact, he seems almost relieved.

I stare at his long fingers as they wrap around my tiny wrist. The contrast between his tanned skin and my pale hand is strikingly beautiful. But the shiny, silver bracelet that takes up most of my forearm is what bothers me. I wish I knew what it meant. I feel my pulse ticking beneath his fingers, sense the beating of his heart through my palm. It’s slow and steady at first, but as time passes and as the silence mounts, the heat of our touch grows into a black hole, sucking me in to his endless gravity. I feel attached to him, as if my hand is melting right into his chest. I want to grab hold of his human heart and become one with it. I wish to wrap my hand around it and try to translate the language that’s making it move. We are suddenly tethered to each other in ways I cannot begin to fathom.

With my gaze shamefully glued to his chest, his heart rate increases. Strangely, this effect rubs off on me and I can feel the beat of my own heart increase to match his, causing a perfect symmetry between us. In slow motion, I watch his Adam’s apple move up and then down as he swallows nervously. My eyes affix to his luminous, ochre gems as they grow wider―the darkness of his pupils swallowing up the magic of his irises.

Abruptly, it all disappears, and I am aware of another presence in the room. Jerking my hand away, the feeling I now own is awkwardness, almost as if I have somehow been caught trespassing.

“Aecker, what are you doing?” a deep voice calls out.

“I can explain.” Aecker stands, the bed springs moaning at the release of his weight.

I stare up at yet another beautiful man, with similar eyes and square jaw. He places a device on the center table, and then his gaze falls on me. This tall man’s eyes widen.

“What happened?” He moves closer, lifting my hair from my face, his other hand―fingers unbelievably icy―grips my chin, raising my face to the light.

“I couldn’t leave her…” Aecker begins.

“Who did this to you?” the man asks, sitting me down beside him, allowing the creaks and groans of the mattress to once again spring to life.

“She has no idea,” Aecker replies. It’s almost like his words filter right through me, and I feel like I am falling into a downward spiral, face first, swirling into the void where the forgotten stray.

It’s all sitting wrong with me; my sudden memory loss, and the fact that this boy known as Aecker called me a stalker. But the most disturbing, are the feelings I just experienced between him and me. It felt sinful, but I couldn’t stop myself. So perhaps it was just as well the stranger interrupted when he did, or who knows what would have happened.

The tall man stands, clears his throat and asks me my name. From the corner of my eye, I see Aecker shaking his head.

“Do you have a name? Or shall I just call you ‘girl’?”

“No, sir.” I shake my head, too.

“Sir?” His head jerks in Aecker’s direction then back to me, as a look of confusion appears in his eyes. He takes a few steps back, like I’m infected with some horrific disease that he will do anything to protect himself from. “Do you remember anything at all?”

I continue to shake my head as if I were made of nothing but wires and conduits―something completely mechanical that is unable to think or feel, just follow orders.

“She must be a City Dweller.” His words are said with distaste, sounding like he wants nothing more than to spit on the floor at the mere thought of something as hideous as me infiltrating his life.

When he notices the bracelet around my wrist, his shoulders slump dramatically. Closing his eyes and pressing his long, dark lashes against tanned skin, he looks as if he is trying desperately to hold back something, yet impatience appears in his voice.

“She’s a Tracker. She must leave right now,” he states with finality, making me feel like I have successfully drowned in that black void where my forgotten memories live, where I will be washed away and swallowed up, never to be seen again.

“She does not look anything like a Tracker!” Aecker’s words are defensive.

“There are whispers of the new generation.”

“It doesn’t matter, Dyllian!” Aecker says passionately, moving closer and pushing the older boy away so that he is now standing between us.

“You know it does. You have to get rid of her. If they find her, if Cupola even catches one scent of this intruder and your involvement with her, you will be killed and I can’t do anything to stop it. Trackers bring nothing but death. You know that!”

Aecker moves even closer to me, his hands come to rest on my shoulders as he stares into my eyes. “She’s nothing like them.”

“What is a Tracker?” My thoughts are finally voiced.

Dyllian steps back, resting an elbow against the wall. With the other hand, he pulls out a dirty old rag and wipes his face. “Trackers are soldiers, spies, assassins. They are here to kill any Inborns and infiltrate their hideouts. To bring violent death to Believers and make examples of their flaws.”

“Believers of what?” I interrupt again.

Dyllian’s eyes pin mine so strongly, I feel like a deer staring down an eager hunter’s arrow.

“Of anything.”

Aecker notices my distress, and I grip my hands together so they don’t see me shaking. Fear is a weakness.

“Like I said,” Aecker strokes my cheek with the back of his fingers, “You are not one of them.”

Despite his tender eyes holding mine, trying to offer comfort, his words still burn a hole through my chest. A deep and intense heat causes my heart to beat erratically, because I realize that he is looking at me like I am his only possession; his to protect until his very last breath. And this time, I don’t mind the way it makes me feel.

As Dyllian turns to study me, something alerts my brain that my small, dark world is about to be buried by this revelation, and the flicker of hope I saw in Aecker’s eyes just moments ago is about to be extinguished. I know why my heart feels as if it is on fire; I want to be his hope, but I don’t know how I possibly can be. If I am a Tracker, it will mean the death of something that is being born between us. I might not know who or what I am, but I know unequivocally that I don’t want to live without the promise of a future and a life beaming in Aecker’s eyes.

I like the way it makes me feel.

Character Name: Aecker Halt

Character Bio:

Aecker Halt is nineteen years old with dark blonde hair, beautiful lips and hazel brown eyes. He is one of

three kids, Aurora being his twin sister who died in the bombings before the war. Dyllian is his older brother who holds status as General in the rebellion colony. Parents are said to have died during the rebellion split off from The Gate after WWIII.

Aecker has a special gift no one is aware of, he has a 6th sense for technological devices. When near technology his taste and feel senses are highlighted, and he can call out what device they are dealing with just by the strange taste or feel that comes over him.

Hobbies include, reading accrual books, collecting and hiding actual books. Takes care of orphaned wildlife.

Skills; hand to hand combat, hunting war strategy.

Dreamcast:

Chord Overstreet who has starred in productions like TV Series G lee has the right look, and certainly can pull off the attitude of Aecker. Id have Chord play male lead in this action packed dystopian novel where Aecker gives up his entire future for a girl he barely knows. And then hunter for his choices when it is dicoverd he has fallen in love with the enemy.

Describe yourself what is your worst and best quality?

Best qualities, he never gives up! Spirited and strong willed. Passionate and intense.

Worst – he never gives up! Might be a tad too rebellious and makes rash decisions.

What is the one thing you wish other people knew about you?

Wow that’s a really tough question I think everyone who has followed me during this amazing journey knows how passionate and big hearted I am.

What is your biggest secret something no one knows about?

LOL. Well there are none of those kinds of secrets I keep. I don’t like to keep secrets, they break me down. But I can share this quirk – I can only park my car from the right hand side :D

What are you most afraid of?

Violence. I am scared of dying a violent death or for those around me to be exposed to violence. It’s such a terrible thought that it keeps me up most nights. Unfortunately living in South Africa Johannesburg that threat is a very real thing, a threat that is a reality that can come down on anyone at any time. But I won’t let that crush my spirit, I still believe in my country and see all the beauty it still holds.

What do you want more than anything?

To know that my children will have a splendid live filled with endless possibilities and perhaps traveling the world and experiencing everything, well not everything that would be impossible given one life time, but that I could explore with my family.

What is your relationship status?

I am married to my high school sweetheart.

How would you describe your sense of fashion?

Oh I looooooove fashion and am totally addicted to beautiful trends. I find it liberating and part of my ‘colorful’ personality. It’s empowering to look good.

How much of a rebel are you?

Total, okay well total would be overkill as that would mean I rebel for the sake of being a rebel. I just like being different but not to the extent that it means sacrificing my dignity. I fifth for what I love and believe in and am not afraid to make a statement.

What do you considered to be your greatest achievement?

My life as it stands now. I have done and seen things I never thought I would ever, but believed I would be great, do great things and live with greatness and so far I have, and in doing things that seemed only to be a dream is an achievement for me. I have tried and tested and grown in more ways that I ever thought possible. I have lived :D

What is your idea of happiness?

How I feel inside. To be happy with me and what I give others and bring to others – if it’s something I don’t regret and feel good about – that is happiness.

What is your current state of mind?

HAPPY AND CONFIDENT.

What is your most treasured possession?

Besides my laptop – my family! So you know – family comes first then my laptop and my pool – I love my pool!!! I would die if I were not able to swim.

What is your most marked characteristic?

Big hearted. That’s what I have heard anyway.

What is it that you, most dislike?

Lying. Lying and pollution. I can’t stand pollution, it’s a rotten poison… don’t get me started we might end up not leaving here today…..

Which living person do you, most despise?

None! I lie – our government. They can do just what they want, steal, lie, cheat amongst other things and get away with it too.

What is your greatest regret?

Not exercising enough. But that can still change.

What is the quality you most like in a man?

Strong willed and honorable.

What is the quality you most like in a woman?

Independence and sophistication.

Who is your favorite hero in fiction?

Edward from Twilight

Which living person do you most admire?

My mother, she’s hardworking and gives so much for everyone else.

If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?

Sleep less!

What is your motto?

Let love give you wings, don’t be crippled by fear.

 

 

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Calyle is an South African award wining author, with a flair for mixing genres and adding loads of drama to every story she creates. For now she is happy to take over the world and convert non Sci-fi believers.

Her goal as an author is to touch people's lives, and help others love their differences and one another by delivering strong messages of faith, love and hope within every outrageous world she writes about.

"I love to swim, fight for the trees, and am a food lover who is driven by my passion for life. I dream that one day my stories will change the lives of countless teenagers and have them obsess over the world literacy can offer them instead of worrying about fitting in. Never sacrifice who you are, its in the dark times that the light comes to life."

Carlyle used writing as a healing tool and that is why she started her very own writers support event - SAIR bookfestival.

"To be a helping hand for those who strive to become full times writers, editors, bloggers, readers and cover artists – it’s a crazy world out there you dont have to go it alone!"

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