Honestly Yours
-- EXCERPT: [Warren at Gian’s home for dinner.] —- “I didn’t go all out with dessert,” Gian said, jarring him back to the present. “I’ll do that next time.” Next time. He could get used to this. To all of this. “I just made a chocolate cake and I’ve got some ice cream to go with it.” There was that word again. Just. Gian had no idea how much all this meant to him. Gian stood and took their plates to the sink, rinsed them off, and then placed them into the dishwasher. A few seconds later, he brought out a glass cake stand and raised the glass dome top. Warren closed his eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the mix of sweetness and chocolate filling the air. Something foreign inside him swelled and had him standing. He walked over to Gian and took the knife from his hand and set it aside. “What’s going on?” Gian asked. He slid his arms around Gian’s waist and held him close. It was the million little things this man did that threw Warren off-balance. How he knew giving Warren a code for entrance to the community would put him more at ease than handing over his ID to a guard. How he never pushed. The way he paid attention to every minute detail. How he listened for the sake of understanding, not for the purpose of waiting for that precise second to interrupt. He cared about others, what they thought, and how his actions affected them. He was a good man. With good intentions. And a kind heart. The opposite of what he had grown accustomed to expecting from others. “If I had known I’d get a hug out of this, I would have made you two cakes.” Warren smiled. He couldn’t forget adding Gian’s use-of-humor-to-ease-the-tension-in-the-air to the list. He rested his head against Gian’s shoulder when strong arms wrapped around him. This…this was where he wanted to be. A place where he felt welcomed and happy.
All-Star Love
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT: I put all my strength into my next forehand. The ball torpedoed over the net, not even bothering to bounce within the court. Nope, that sucker was headed for the fences. If this was baseball, it’d be time to break out the peanuts and Cracker Jack. Too bad this wasn’t baseball. “Ahh!” A figure in the distance went down, knees to the court. A crowd of students suddenly appeared, gasping and rushing over. “You hit him!” someone shrieked. My breath lodged in my throat. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I jogged over, terrified to breathe until I knew my accidental victim was okay. Caleb directed a dirty scowl at me. “You really are the worst, Maxwell.” I angled to see the fallen student. “I’m so sorry!” “Oh, Maisie.” Nia mumbled, now beside me. “I’m okay,” the guy on the ground said, attempting to stand despite the crowd. His head emerged, sun-bleached brown hair unkempt and curling over a tanned forehead. That perfectly shaggy hair some guys could get away with. He wasn’t a returning student. The face turning toward me could easily belong on a clothing website, the kind with ninety-dollar T-shirts with holes in them for a distressed look. Basically, he was very attractive. A swath of blood streaked across that very attractive face. That part was definitely my fault. Sorry floated across my tongue, but my lips couldn’t form the word under the pressure of so many glaring classmates. Any hope of being an admired senior this year shriveled and burned like a tissue set aflame. He accepted a clean towel and pressed it to his nose. “I expected I might not be welcome here, but your forehand really confirmed it.” “Way to go, Maxwell,” Caleb said with a sneer. “You just nailed Shane Wagner in the face.” Oh. Wait, what? “You’re … you’re—” “Shane Wagner,” the bloody-faced model boy said through the towel. Shane Wagner. The Shane Wagner. I just nailed the face of the number one-seeded player in junior boys’ tennis.
GIVEAWAY! Craving the Fight
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT: Motherfucker. What was this horseshit? Aleah bounced over to me and flung her arms around my neck. “You’re early! Good, this gives you and Emma time to catch up before your photoshoot. I knew she’d be perfect for the job. You two have always been comfortable with each other.” Clenching my teeth, I watched as Emma posed with her cunt of an ex. He had his hands all over her as they posed for the pictures; I wanted to rip his arms off. “You failed to mention any of this to me,” I huffed. “Hey,” Aleah said, squeezing my wrist. I tore my gaze away from Emma and focused on her. Aleah’s smile faded as she glanced back and forth between the three of us. “Am I missing something? Why are you mad? I thought you’d like working with Emma.” My attention went back to Emma, and I couldn’t tear my eyes off her. Her bare skin shimmered in the sun, and her dark hair now had caramel wisps that weren’t there before. I could almost remember how it felt to touch her and have her nails rake down my back as she screamed out my name. I have always wanted her, and now she was right in front of me in another man’s arms, the arms of someone I knew had been with her the way I had. And now, I had to watch him touch her as if she was his. “Carter, talk to me,” Aleah demanded, her voice low. “I’ve never seen you this angry. What’s going on?” The photographer directed Ryan and Emma to change positions, and Ryan moved even closer to her. I had to force myself to look away before I lost my shit. “I wasn’t expecting Emma to be here, much less with that prick,” I hissed. Aleah stepped in front of me. “Ryan’s not that bad. He wants Emma back and thought this would work.” “He’s a fucking tool. He doesn’t deserve her,” I fired back. Aleah pinned me with her honey-toned stare, crossing her arms over her chest. “And who does? You?” “That’s not what I’m saying,” I spat out quickly. A slow, wry smile spread across her face. “It’s not what you’re saying but how you’re acting.” She peered over at Ryan and Emma again. “I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re seriously giving off the jealousy vibes right now.” When I didn’t respond, her eyes widened in understanding. “Oh my God, you have a thing for Emma. I had my suspicions years ago but never saw anything happen.” My jaw muscles hurt from clenching my teeth so hard. “That’s because we didn’t let anyone see it.” Aleah sucked back a gasp. “Have you two like …” She waved her hands in front of her as if she was trying to find the right words. “Gotten close?” she finished. Again, my silence was her answer. Her mouth gaped, and she grabbed her chest. “Holy shit, you have. And here I am flaunting her in front of you with another guy. I’m so sorry.” She couldn’t be blamed for this. I shrugged. “Emma left for New York, and I went my own way. It’s fine. We haven’t spoken in a long time.” Groaning, Aleah shook her head incredulously. “First off, I’m going to kill you for not telling me any of this. And second,” she griped, holding up her hands, “I got this. I’m team Carter all the way.” “What are you going to do?” I wondered. Aleah winked. “Getting you what you want. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know what that is.”
GIVEAWAY! Love, Not War: A Charity Anthology for Ukraine
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo #Book Blitz #Myracles in the Void (Myraverse) by Wes Dyson #YA Fantasy @Xpresso Book Tours23/5/2022
Myracles in the Void
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: Chapter One – Unforgiving Hop THE RED TIDE is COMING! Water Level Low. SPRYT SightingsHighly Expected. Un-luck + Disaster ToAllWho Encounter. BLOCK EVERYOPENING. — Mayor Tanning What a delightful sign to have hanging in front of one’s home — a mix of “watch out” with “you’re on your own.” But that’s living in Hop for ya, a’kay? As a floating port in the middle of the sea, there weren’t any roads to or from Hop. On their own, indeed. But it wasn’t always so lonely. Fifty years ago, Hop was a bustling pitstop for the hundreds of trade ships sailing across the Domus Gulf every year. A place to “hop” from one side of the gulf to the other. Being a travel hub made it bursting with exotic goods and fresh ideas. But the wild waters of the gulf were hard to predict, and they only seemed to grow more dangerous over time. One shipwreck was enough to send thoughts and prayers, but after ten and twenty ships washed back blown to bits, it started to nip at the profits. Soon traders found alternate land routes that may have taken longer, but at least weren’t so death-y. Practically overnight, Hop and its people were forgotten like a used hanky in a puddle. Trapped on a floating port amid the unfor‐ giving sea, a stagnant idea stuck to them — anything made would just be unmade. What was to stop anything they worked hard to build from falling to pieces like Hop did? Nothin’ lasts butsalt in yer ass became the most graffitied words on the splintering streets, a series of long planks called “Boards.” Was there any point in shining your shoes, doing your hair, brushing your teeth? They would all end up dirty, tasseled, and yellow. Undone, eventually. Was there any point in building relationships, then? Nothing lasts but the salt in their asses, indeed. Just behind that friendly “red tide” warning sign on Boulie Board, a skinny wreck of a home rose from the battered planks. Its number, 76, was drawn large and wide on the front and side in “Hopper White,” a local specialty paint whose main ingredient was seagull poop. Nothing could be wasted in Hop, not even waste. The pieces that made up the home had a kind of widely used look about them, like maybe that wall had once been the barnacled belly of a rowboat, and before that, it was a sign that said HOP: POPULATION 600. Its door was a full fourteen shades of a should-I-touch-that sort of green and was cracked at the bottom up to the knob. Its two sea-weathered windows were small and narrow like suspicious eyes squinting at the neighbors. By Hopper standards, the Izz family actually had quite a fine little nest. The only reason the Izz house somewhat outshined its raggedy neighbors was because of the family’s firstborn, Gaiel Izz. Gai liked to fix things when they broke. Something about broken objects made him queasy, compulsive even; a roar in the belly yapping at him to make it better. As for the things he couldn’t fix, he’d at least insist on putting a sheet of soggy newspaper over it or something. In fact, he patched so many holes in his clothes with newspaper that it became the dominant fabric. It crinkled as he walked. One special night, this industrious fifteen-year-old was lying motionless on the floor in one of the home’s damp upstairs bedrooms. His right ear was practically suctioned to the floorboards as he listened carefully for any signs of movement downstairs. He’d been listening so long his ear had become a bright, throbbing mushroom. This night, he’d embark on his most ambitious fixing project yet — his twelve-year-old sister, Lynd. While Gai may have been on the floor, he wasn’t out of bed. The floor was both of the Izz children’s bed. Many, many things floated by Hop in the strong currents, like sunken ship junk or garbage from far off Electri City on the mainland. But few were “cozy” materials for them to scoop out and use to make bedding. Since nothing came in or out of Hop, if a Hopper wanted something new, they’d best grab a scoop and pray to Zeea that whatever they needed happened to be floating by that day. Gai once scooped an armful of braided anchor rope and wove it into a nice blanket. He looked over at Lynd sleeping on it, snoring like a ship headed out to sea — Twaahhh! Peaceful as she seemed, her little hands kept pulling at the fraying edges of the rope-blanket, almost like tearing it apart soothed her as a babe suckling their thumb would. She was definitely not a fixer like her brother. Truly, she was quite the opposite.
GIVEAWAY! A Cinderella for the Prince’s Revenge
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT: “Briony?” Cass’s voice yanked her out of her melancholy state. She loved the way he said her name, the syllables rolling off his tongue in an exotic accent. “Sorry.” She gave him a quick smile. “It was fine.” Most people accepted that answer, didn’t press for more out of courtesy or disinterest. But Cass stared at her, eyes probing. Her smile slipped as she shifted on her feet. “What?” “You’re an open book.” She frowned. “Oh?” He leaned across the bar. The scarred countertop still separated them. All she had to do was lean back to keep space between them. But she didn’t. No, she just stood there as he laid a finger on her rapidly beating pulse at the base of her throat. Amazing how much fire one graze of a fingertip could ignite, she thought desperately past the swirling rush of blood roaring in her ears. The first time he’d ever touched her, a mere tap of his finger, and she could barely stop from swooning like a teenager with her first crush. “The pulse in your throat. Your tongue darting out to touch your lips.” Despite the uptick in volume as the band transitioned into a raucous rendition of the latest country song, his words wound around her, a seductive spell. His eyes dropped down to her mouth. A wild temptation seized her, made her sway forward before common sense yanked her back. Had she truly almost kissed a customer? A most likely very wealthy, very handsome customer who would be leaving any day now?
GIVEAWAY! Siren’s Song
-- EXCERPT: There, less than a hundred yards away waited the reason for his heart rate to suddenly increase. There she was. His mermaid. Lying near the water’s edge, her sparkling reddish-orange tail rested in the water. His eyes traveled upwards to her flat belly and then to her full, lush breasts. His mouth involuntarily started to water a bit as he stared at the chocolate-tipped mounds. She was breathtaking. With dark, wavy hair spread out around her on the sand, and the sound coming from her rosebud-shaped mouth, Jason seemed lost. Not a song, but a soulful sweet hum came from her lips drawing him in closer. Sad, but beautiful. Jason inched forward again, and then the sound stopped. Abruptly she sat up, her ebony hair whipping around as her attention focused on him. Her wide amethyst eyes pinned him in place as if the weight of the world held him there. They were at a standstill, of sorts. Him watching her, marveling at the wonder she was and her watching him as if he were the wonder between them. As if she were seeing him for the first time. Jason took a step towards her, but she moved faster. Crawling back into the water and away from him. She was trying to get away from him. “Please.” Barely a whisper, but if she heard it, she didn’t slow her escape. Using her upper body, she propelled herself into the water, becoming one with the sea. If she left now, he was certain that he’d never see her again. And that he wasn’t ready for. Without another thought, Jason ran towards the water and dove in after her. His vision wasn’t the best without his glasses, but it didn’t matter. He had to go after her, or at least try. The waters enveloped him, as he prepared to dive down after her like he, too, was a creature of the sea. She was ahead of him, almost out of his eyesight if not for the shimmering of her tail that, like a beacon, drew him to her. He swam as fast and as hard as he could, but it didn’t matter. She was too fast for him to catch up. And then an ocean current had him, pulling him out deeper to sea.
GIVEAWAY! #Book Blitz #Soulstealer: Steven by Shane Boulware #Supernatural #Paranormal @Xpresso Book Tours20/5/2022
Soulstealer: Steven
-- EXCERPT: Though she didn’t believe him, Jeff promised Sara he’d read to Trista tonight, taking no more than two hours reviewing surveillance. He worked his schedule to spend the first hour watching the Gatekeeper in real-time as he arrived, and the second hour emailing and speeding through the day’s feed. The Gatekeeper came into view as Jeff’s doorbell rang. Jeff stepped out of his office and got to the door in time to see Sara peering through the peephole. She scowled at Jeff as she opened it, revealing Steven dressed in a Star Trek t-shirt, leather jacket, steel-toed boots, jeans, and a ridiculous purple bandanna around his neck. Steven waved. “Hi, Sara.” “Steven.” She glared at Jeff. “Two hours, Jeff, and not one minute more.” Steven grinned and made a whip-cracking motion with widening eyes as Sara returned to the living room. “Yeah,” Jeff muttered, “I’m lucky I’m still in the house. Come on in. I’m watching the Gatekeeper.” “Sweet!” Steven followed Jeff back into the office, setting his backpack down and pulling up a stool while Jeff returned to his chair. They huddled around the television. “Man, we haven’t done this in a while.” Jeff cracked a smile. “Yeah, it’s been months since we’ve had a good ole fashioned sit-down. Aren’t you supposed to be out cruising the wild?” Steven shrugged while glancing about the office; empty wrappers and gadgets strewn about. “I was in the neighborhood. I’m still on my vacation time though, so I’ll be headed back out for parts unknown.” Jeff nudged him. “You were feeling guilty.” Steven tilted his head. “Yeah, maybe a little. But I was serious when I said that I needed some time away from all this s***. The open road is the open road, and I got an urge I need to satisfy.” Steven pumped his fists and rocked his hips. Jeff laughed while tucking away some unpaid bills on his desk. “I decided to go south to the Carolinas,” Steven continued. “Through Tennessee and Missouri, then Ohio and back here. Tomorrow I’ll head out north, possibly all the way to Canuck-land. Who knows? I’ll figure it out when I get there.” “Meanwhile…” Jeff began. “Meanwhile, you’re fightin’ the good fight,” Steven added in a southern accent while eyeing the television. The Gatekeeper lounged in a brown leather chair, watching the fire as he did every day. A small table stood to his immediate right and another leather chair on the other side. His black leather fedora rested on the middle table. Forty minutes into the video, a young man approached the Gatekeeper. Jeff leaned forward, snatched a notepad and mini pen from his back pocket, and scribbled notes on the paper. Steven scrutinized the unfolding scene. “Easy, killer, just watch.” The young man tried to sit before jerking still. He stood back up. “I wish we had audio,” Jeff muttered. “Shhh, just watch.” Steven strained to read their lips. The camera angles shot out both ways from the fireplace, giving them the perfect view. The Gatekeeper and his new friend began a conversation. Then the young man grabbed hold of the fedora and set it on his head, tapping the edge. “Holy s***,” Jeff said. “That’s the Gatekeeper’s hat. He either knows exactly what he’s doing, or he has a death wish.” “Mmmhm, we’ll see.” They knew what would happen after the Gatekeeper verified the Soulstealer’s identity. They had learned about the procedure back when a much stronger Solis America infiltrated the Raptor’s former headquarters in Boston. Still, they could only guess at what words the two exchanged. The Raptors guarded the secret with a foolproof method: memorization. The young man sat in the chair, back erect, and continued their dialogue. He took the Gatekeeper’s hat off and returned it to the table, tapping it again. The newcomer said something else, prompting the Gatekeeper to snatch his fedora, stand, and stride toward the VIP section. The young man made no motion to follow, which they knew wasn’t part of the procedure unless the exchange failed. When the Gatekeeper left the room, the young man exited the bar the way he came. Steven frowned. “That’s different.” “What just happened?” Jeff asked. “Looks like a failed attempt.” “Yeah, but the guy knew what to do.” “Or he was just a dumb drunk. It’s probably the Raptors messing with us again.” “How could they know we’re still watching them?” Steven gave Jeff a long look. “Jeff, they’ve probably been in your house a dozen times this year alone. I’m pretty sure they know.” Jeff drew back, his voice trembling. “That’s not funny, Steven. I have a little girl in this house.” His eyes darted around the room as paranoia enveloped him. “C’mon Jeff, they’re the Raptors. They have dossiers on every one of us, down to what kind of ice cream we like. We’ve been playing Spy vs. Spy since we figured out they supported the Soulstealer.” “Is that your new name for it, the Soulstealer?” “Catchy, isn’t it? I came up with it on the ride back. Sounds a lot better than ‘Stealer of Souls,’ or ‘Dracula.’ And Satan.”
GIVEAWAY! The Archer Brothers Series
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT: “EVAN, I THINK WE’RE finished for today.” My head lifts quickly as I meet her gaze. There is a look of pity masking her smile. She can pity me. It’s understandable. If I were in her shoes I’d pity the person I am right now. I chance a look at the clock and see that I still have a few more minutes. Maybe she feels how broken I am and needs time to regroup or find someone else to fix me. “Okay,” I say hesitantly. I’m not sure I want to go through this again with another doctor, and definitely not a military one. The doc folds the page of her notepad over and slides it into her desk. She smiles softly. “I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Ryley this morning. My schedule has been cleared this week so I can help get things resolved, or heading toward a resolution. My plan is to see you and Ryley together in the next couple of days to discuss what methods need to be implemented for both of you. My concern is EJ. You need to be able to bond with him and she understands that.” She stands, coming over to me. “My suggestion, and I didn’t tell this to Ryley, is for you to spend some time with her. She’s hurting, Evan. While you thought everything was fine, aside from the fact that you were gone for so long, she buried you and tried to move on with her life. She’s making neither heads nor tails of what’s happening right now, but give her time without letting her slip through the cracks.” My body sighs as I stand, as if it knows I don’t have to sit in that chair anymore. My feet shuffle toward the door, leaving the doc leaning up against her desk. “Thank you,” I say before opening the door and leaving the room. The sun is bright and penetrating when I step out of the office. I have to shield my eyes quickly before I walk out into traffic. Once my eyes adjust, I look across the street to the park hoping to see Ryley sitting over there. If she were, it’d be so much easier to talk to her right now, although the thought of bringing her to base makes more sense to me since she wouldn’t be able to run away from me. Somehow, however, I don’t think Ryley wants to be anywhere near the base – not that I can blame her. At this point, I don’t want to be there either, except it’s the only choice I have since I’m not really welcome in my own home. With only one other destination in mind, I text the guys and ask them to meet me. We need to figure out what’s going on. Each of our situations is different, yet we’re all experiencing the same thing. I also need to bite the bullet and call my mother. I’m not sure why I haven’t yet. I guess I’ve been waiting to see if our unearthly return would make the news, but so far nothing has been reported. Every time I learn another factoid about this deployment, I’m more convinced that it was not legit. Pulling in front of Magoo’s, it would be easy to go drown my sorrows in beer, but I need to keep a level head about the situation. If I ask the wrong person a question, who knows what could happen? As is, someone high up has taken away my life. It doesn’t matter that I’m standing here today or not. I’m not the same person and someone needs to pay. It’s a happy relief to walk in and be surrounded by friends. The bar stools are full of patrons, men I’ve served with in the past. Tables are thrown together to make bigger spaces and the same chairs are still here. An American flag hangs on the wall with various pictures surrounding it. All these pictures have been given or sent to Rick, the owner, for display. I refuse to look at the wall that holds all our past SEALs. I know the four of us are up there or maybe Rick has taken them down. Either way, I’m not looking, at least not today. I’ve spent many hours trying to figure out what happened and answering all the questions I could. It’s very unsettling to know that people thought you were dead.
Arcadia: The Complete Collection – 10th Anniversary Edition
-- Pre-order for only 99¢! -- EXCERPT: Taken from Talisman Of El (Arcadia, Book 1), Prologue ‘Luther’s dead.’ Derkein’s heart skipped a beat. ‘What … What happened?’ ‘Natural causes. Apparently, his heart gave out.’ ‘What do you mean “apparently”?’ With a hesitant glance at Derkein, his father opened the front pocket of the bag and pulled out a burnished copper talisman with an engraved steel band and a circular crevice. ‘Luther and I dug this up in the Roncador Mountains in Mato Grosso, Brazil. The earthquake that hit South America two months ago … We caused it when we removed this from the earth.’ He looked down at the talisman and then back at Derkein, distress clouding his features. ‘The moment the earthquake struck, we passed out. Two hours later, we woke up on Manhattan Bridge.’ ‘I don’t understand what you’re saying.’ ‘We didn’t fly to New York.’ ‘Then how did you get here?’ His father started packing the weapons back inside the bag. ‘I don’t know. Three weeks ago, Luther called me and told me that someone was following him. I think whoever was after him wanted the talisman, and when they didn’t find it, they killed him. Now they’re after me.’ ‘So give it to them. Dad, this isn’t worth your life.’ ‘I can’t. This is my only connection to Arcadia.’ ‘Where are you going?’ ‘England,’ his father replied. ‘Thomas might be able to help me. If what he told me about these beings is true, I can’t be around you. They got to Luther. I won’t lose you too.’ He turned around and stared at the portrait covering the safe. ‘I miss Mum too, but it’s been five years. Give up before you end up killing yourself. Arcadia doesn’t exist.’ His father looked at him. ‘It’s out there. I’m going to find it. I will bring her back.’ ‘Mum’s dead,’ Derkein snapped. ‘When are you going to get that?’ ‘I have to go,’ his father said in a calm voice. ‘I’ll call you when I get there.’ ‘Dad –’ ‘I’ll be fine. I always am.’ ‘Dad, please –’ An ear-piercing scream ripped through the building. Derkein froze, his eyes the only things that moved. His gaze fixed on his father, who was rummaging through his bag. He took out a black pistol and turned to Derkein, a tortured expression on his face as he placed the weapon in his son’s trembling hand. ‘Shoot anything that moves,’ his father instructed. He placed the talisman around Derkein’s neck, tucking it inside his shirt. ‘Don’t let it out of your sight.’ Cupping Derkein’s face in his hands, he made him meet his gaze. ‘I’m so sorry I got you involved in this.’ He grabbed another gun from the bag. ‘What exactly have you got yourself into, Dad?’ His father looked at him with a solemn expression. ‘If anything happens to me, you find Thomas. Tell him … Tell him he was right.’ He headed towards the door. ‘Dad, wait.’ Derkein went after him. ‘Dad –’ The double doors burst open with a bang. His father opened fire. ‘Derkein, shoot!’ he yelled. Derkein glanced around the room in panic and confusion. He saw no one but his father. Then he felt a sharp pain in his arm, heard his shirt tear, and cried out. Something warm dribbled down his arm, and when he placed his hand on it, he saw blood. His father screamed, and he looked up and saw him flying across the room, crashing into a bookshelf that collapsed under him. ‘Dad!’ Derkein sprinted towards him but felt a powerful blow across his chest that sent him flying backwards, and he landed hard on the floor, his gun falling out of his hand. Staggering to his feet, he glanced around for whatever had attacked him but saw nothing. His gaze landed on his father, who was groaning … and then he was gone. There were no bright lights or loud noise. He had just vanished. As Derkein stared wide-eyed at the spot where his father had been lying only moments before, something like a blast of electricity stunned him, and he felt an intense burning inside his chest. He let out a cry as his body lifted off the ground and hung in midair. Seconds later, he came crashing down …
GIVEAWAY! |
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