The Lost Man
-- EXCERPT: “What are you watching?” Noel turns his head slowly. I’m glad I thought to bring a set of keys out with me – he wouldn’t have heard me knocking, didn’t even hear me come into the room. “You’re back.” I walk over to him and sit beside him. “Of course I came back. Did you think I wouldn’t?” He shakes his head a little, his eyes roaming back to the TV. “Have you eaten?” “I can’t remember… I think so…” I force myself to smile, stroking his beard. “Do you want me to make you something?” “You don’t need to do that.” “How about tea and biscuits? I’m going to make some for myself.” He looks at me and flashes me a weak smile, which feels a little like hope; like the sun peeking through thick cloud. “There are still some shortbread biscuits in the tin on the counter. I made them this morning.” “You sure know how to make a woman happy,” I say, pressing my lips lightly against his before heading through to the kitchen to make us both some tea. When I come back into the living room, I place the tray of tea and biscuits down on the coffee table and sink onto the sofa beside Noel. I drape the blanket over us both and squeeze him, my hand on his arm and my head on his shoulder. You can’t abandon someone you love just because they’re not the same person you met a long time ago. You can’t abandon someone you love just because they can’t find the way back home. You can’t abandon someone you love just because they no longer love themselves. “You have no idea how glad I am that you’re here,” he whispers, his voice uncertain, emotion caught up in his words, his breath. “I’m home, Noel. With you.” He lifts his arm and wraps it around me; I snuggle against his body and inhale his familiar scent. It reminds me that, in spite of everything, he’s still here, with me.
GIVEAWAY! Call Sign: King
-- EXCERPT: It was on the sideline of the theater he literally bumped into Trevor — the only other man on the planet he felt confident leaving his wife’s safety too. “That was one of her best performances,” Trevor said. “I knew when they were filming last year it was special.” “Yeah. She better damn well win this year.” “She will,” Trevor said sounding as proud as Ryder felt. “And while she deserves it, each notch she raises on the ladder of fame makes our job just that much harder.” “Tell me something I don’t know,” Ryder groused, as aggravated today as he had been four years before by the impossible love match between an international celebrity and a deep-cover agent. “As much as I love being here with her tonight, I can’t shake the feeling that it was a mistake to come.” Ryder tried not to share his fears with Khloe, but he hid nothing from Trevor McLean, his queen’s Royal Guard. “Your contacts at the CIA gave you a clean report last month, right?” “Just because the Volkov’s have been wounded, I’ll never count them out — not until Alexi runs them into the ground for good.” Just thinking about his last mission in Russia before he burned his cover put him on edge. “You said yourself he’s a weak leader compared to his dead cousins. But if he’s still a threat, why not just have BSO take him out?” Trevor asked a question Ryder had found himself contemplating more often these days. He sighed. “Because killing him would be just another ‘whack a mole’ mission as the team likes to say. Someone new would take his place… maybe even someone worse. At least I know him — understand how he thinks. And anyway, the Volkovs are just one of a dozen crime families that would love to see me six-feet under. I can’t very well take hits out on all of them,” Ryder groused, never taking his eyes off his beaming wife. “Why not?” Trevor asked. It was a simple enough question, and in all honesty, it was a solution he had the means and resources to pull off. “I guess because despite all of the fucked up shit I’ve done, my moral compass has always pointed squarely in the good-guy direction. Voluntarily taking out dozens of marks I haven’t interacted with in years just so I can get a better night’s sleep seems like a slippery slope.” “I get that, and even respect that, but at the end of the day, they’re the bad guys — not you. And certainly not Khloe. I love seeing her this happy. You being here made that happen.”
GIVEAWAY! Of Blood and Light
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo -- EXCERPT: “I have a lot more questions than you,” I murmur, tracking the movements of a pair of lone figures across the lawn. A man in farm clothes and a woman wearing some sort of maid outfit carry buckets and packages from a carriage stationed on a gravel path. They mill around, seemingly unbothered by the fractured moon and massive misty planet looming over their heads. By the time the two strangers disappear, I realize Hadrian is still supporting me, one arm curled over the front of my torso while the other rests around my waist. I cautiously pry myself from his hold. He lets go and takes a step back, allowing some salutary distance between us. “What is this place?” “Thule,” he reasserts. “I heard you the first time, but that’s not what I’m asking.” I stagger away from the windows, unable to tear my gaze from the foreign sky outside. “Are we in space?” One of his eyebrows rises a fraction. “Miss Greer, everything is, by essence, in space.” “Are we in space elsewhere than on Earth? Like . . . how far?” I urge, desperate for tangible facts to hold on to as I plummet down this rabbit hole. He motions to the evil chair he used to trap me earlier. “You seem quite overtaxed; would you like to take a seat?” I shake my head to signal I’m never sitting in that thing again. “How far?” “We’re approximately two hundred and ninety light-years away from Earth.” A tremor snakes up my legs; I grip one of the bedposts for support. “How is that . . . No. No. It’s not possible.” “The paths connect our worlds, as they have since the very first breath of time. The Dekwenn Tīrr, through which Eliud ferried you, is one such path. That is how you came to be here.” “But it only took a second!” I shriek, the chaos of my thoughts coalescing into something cold and dark. Was it truly a second, or have I been asleep in that bright void for years and lost everything? “Time and space are quite altered within the paths,” he notes. “What do you mean? How long have I been here?” He pulls a gold pocket watch from his waistcoat, flicks it open, and checks the dial. “Slightly over six hours.” My initial rush of relief becomes a leaden sensation in the pit of my stomach as I recall the twisted physics of Miller’s planet in Interstellar—where severe time dilation caused by a neighboring black hole turns every hour into seven years. “How long has it been on Earth?” Please let it not be forty-two years. Please. A crease forms between his eyebrows. “The same amount of time, one should expect.” “Exactly the same? So six hours? A quarter of a day?” “A tenth, rather,” he corrects. Seeing my face scrunch in confusion, then panic, he adds, “While I’ve never had the privilege of visiting Earth, it is my understanding that solar days there are quite short.” One-tenth . . . I whip my neurons into action and do the math, the room spinning around me as I process this new level of weird. “Sixty hours. Your solar days last sixty hours.” “Indeed. It is past midday—” He checks his watch again. “Precisely thirty-two o’clock.” “Give or take a light-year.” “As I’ve already explained to you, the rules of time and space do not apply within the paths. Nothing does, in truth,” he adds, like an afterthought. The room is warm, but I’m trembling, freezing. “I can’t be here. Please let me go home. Take me back through one of those paths!” The lines bracketing his mouth deepening as he turns to face me once more. “I cannot.” His earlier conversation with Eliud rings back in my ears: under arrest for the illegal crossing of an unregistered path . . . crimes for which even the wife of a knight must be held accountable. “You can’t because it’s forbidden even to you.” A single nod from him. “All paths have been strictly regulated for centuries. Only pathfinders are permitted to cross them freely. Thule’s legislation on the matter is enforced with the greatest severity.” Centuries. That might explain why Thule hasn’t yet caught up with Earth’s latest fashion and tech and, instead, appears suspended in this weird Victorian bubble. “How severe are we talking?” “Death.”
GIVEAWAY! Starseer
-- EXCERPT: Etar didn’t have time to process any of what Hans had said before he went back to the hallway to let someone in—and whatever Etar had been expecting, it was nothing like the man that walked in. The stranger walked with a step so light Etar could barely hear it on the floorboards of his room. His long black hair caught light like flowing water, and his eyes were distant in a deep, wistful way, blue and luminous even under this morning’s gray light. He wore a black silken tunic embroidered with the most marvelous iridescent threads. Starbursts, suns, and moons, all decorated with tiny gemstones, crowded every corner of the fabric. Etar couldn’t help staring at his jewel-decked hands. He had long, delicate fingers, as though made for minute tasks like building watches. As soon as Hans closed the door, the man bowed, a gesture Etar had never received from anyone. “Starseer,” he said, soft and reverent. Panic rose in Etar’s chest. How did this man know he was a Starseer? “Um. Hello?” he said, his mind struggling for coherent thought. “It is such a great honor to finally meet you. I have been looking for you far and wide.” Etar couldn’t parse the words from this man’s mouth, so he gaped instead of replying. His eyes pivoted from him to Hans in search of explanations, but Hans only fell back into a corner of the room. “My name is Áehd, and I am an alchemist,” the man said. An alchemist. A trade Etar only knew through books. To his knowledge, there had been alchemists and magicians in this castle long ago, but his uncle had expelled them all. Etar supposed he should introduce himself, but he was too stunned to act properly. “How do you know I’m a Starseer?” he blurted out. No formal salutation. No bowing to receive his guest. It showed so glaringly that he hadn’t been raised as a royal. The alchemist offered a gracious little laugh and pulled something out from between the folds of his tunic. When he opened his hand, a butterfly flew out of it. At first, Etar thought it was a real butterfly because of how dainty its legs were and how its wings broke light, but on closer inspection, it was made of metal and colored crystals. It emanated a soft, bluish glow from under its belly. “My constructs respond to energy, and no energy is more attractive to them than that of a Starseer,” Áehd said. The butterfly kissed Etar’s face, making him flinch when it came close to his eyes, but he was afraid of breaking it if he flapped it away. Its glow intensified whenever it grazed his skin, and Etar could feel warmth wherever it alighted. After a while, the alchemist caged it in his fingers and put it away in his tunic. The butterfly dredged out a memory of one such toy Etar had since childhood but which no longer possessed this butterfly’s agency.
GIVEAWAY! Resonate
-- EXCERPT: River fell, grabbing a firm hold of the rovers bumper while hanging off the side of a hole in the moons surface. A deafening scream followed from the girl. He caught her outstretched hand. The remote rover and core sample smashed into pieces below. She dangled in a frenzied panic. The rover shifted from their weight. “Don’t let go of me!” she screamed. “I’ve got you!” he shouted back. That calmed her a little, but she still whimpered. The rover stopped, hung halfway off the side of the cliff. He studied it. It wasn’t going to hold much longer. “Tamar! River? What happened?” Ringo cried out through the commlink. “Stay back! It’s a cave-in!” River scoured the cliff for a spot he could jump for. If he just didn’t have the princess clinging to his arm, he could get out of here easy. Big John, Ringo, and Ginger showed up at the edge of the rocky cliff. The three stood motionless. “Hold onto her River!” Ringo’s frantic voice howled, with his hands on his helmet. Ginger began to radio the control room, explaining what happened. “I’m trying.” River gripped Tamar’s hand tighter. “Are you going to do something?” “Let me think!” Ringo screeched back, his hands tense at the sides of his helmet. River’s eyes narrowed. “This thing’s not going to hold much longer.” “Ringo, the trekkers!” Big John’s voice boomed. The two disappeared from the edge. “It’s going to take them both to hold that beast.” Ringo explained through their steady huffs. River didn’t remember the trekkers being close, but at least they were doing something other than standing there. He examined the pit below, studying the surface. Then, he spotted it. “Okay listen to me,” he said to the girl, gazing down at her petrified face. “There’s a small patch of soft moon dust off to the right over there. I’m going to toss you onto it.” “Over there? You can’t throw me that far,” she screamed. “No, River. Don’t let go of her. We’re almost there,” Ringo shouted. “Shut it, Ringo!” He softened his eyes, hoping she would understand. “Don’t listen to him, you’ll be fine.” “River, stop! It’s too deep! We’ve got the trekkers,” Ringo shouted through Tamar’s constant screams and pleas. She murmured a weak, terrified wail, begging him not to do this to her. Why was she acting like this? Did she think he was a monster? “You want to live, don’t you?” River yelled. She nodded, gripping his hand so tight it went numb through his glove. “Then listen to me!” The rover inched forward, its weight crumbling the rock side, and he no longer cared for her permission. He swung his arm back, focusing on the point of impact, then tossed her toward the dust pile. She flew, screaming the whole way. Her bottom landed safely, just as he said she would. But time had run out for him. The rover dove off the cliff, leaving him no other choice but to ride down with it.
GIVEAWAY! Over the Fence
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble -- EXCERPT: Emma Noelle is on the fifth floor, in the Traumatic Brain Injury Unit. Before we enter her room, I close my eyes and say a little prayer. Please, God, bring Noelle back to me today…But it takes less than a second for the hope in my heart to sputter out like the air in a deflating balloon. Because today is no different than yesterday or the day before. Noelle’s lying on her back in bed, propped up by pillows, in exactly the same position she was when we left last night. Her eyes are open and fixed on the ceiling. Aunt Vi goes to her first, murmuring in her ear and fussing with the blankets on the bed. She picks up Noelle’s chart. Her eyes skim over the top page, like maybe she’s an MD and not an archeologist. “I’ll just find a vase for these flowers,” she says, setting down the chart and brushing past me, tears in her eyes. I take a deep breath and approach the bed. “Hi, Sis,” I say. I do my best to make my voice cheery and bright, but the bile in my throat adds a sharpness to it. I take Noelle’s hands and squeeze them, wishing with all my heart that she would squeeze back. But her hands, the ones that used to fly across piano keys like they were possessed by Mozart’s spirit, are lifeless. I sit down in a chair close to the bed and start strumming my guitar. If anything can wake Noelle, it’s music. I watch her face as I play, searching for awakening in her eyes, a hint of something besides blankness. She’s still so beautiful. The bruises have faded away. On the outside, she’s herself again, just less alive, like someone put her in a copy machine. The blonde highlights in her hair are almost grown out now. Her sun-freckled skin has gone pale. She has the same brown eyes with the same thick lashes. I’ve always envied those lashes. Now I just wish those eyes would look at me again, that she would smile or laugh… “How can I ever say goodbye to you…” Aunt Vi comes back in the room, followed by Dr. Massey. I stop playing. “They did another MRI this morning,” she says. My eyes raise to Dr. Massey’s. He’s an older man with sharp but kind eyes, cropped white hair and a beard that goes halfway down his chest. He reminds me of a skinny Santa Claus, except he brings devastating news instead of presents. He shakes his head. Disappointment punches me in the gut, but I ignore it. Noelle needs me to be strong for her. For us. I stand up and face Dr. Massey, hands on hips. “Okay,” I say. “What now?”
GIVEAWAY! Alaska Blaze
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: Saving himself and these dogs would be a tricky maneuver. Cohen had no time to lose. Ash and embers scorched his tongue as if the devil was licking it. Hot air pressed down on him. He couldn’t swallow—no saliva. I’m out of time! Time to deploy my fire shelter. How will I fit three adult dogs, me, and a sack load of puppies inside my shelter? Cohen stuck the neck of the burlap sack in his teeth, as he couldn’t set the puppies down in the water. He reached behind and retrieved his fire shelter. He tugged it from the case, yanked the cords, and shook it out. “Rooby! Wacko! Come here!” he commanded, spitting around the burlap clenched in his teeth. The terrified dogs sidled in next to him, and he crouched down, spreading the fire shelter over them. He tied the end of Madonna’s rope around the neck of the sack and draped it around his neck, so the sack hung on his left side. As long as Madonna sat in front of him and wouldn’t bolt, this might work. He wrapped a corner of the shelter around Rooby and another around Wacko and held the corners with each hand. This has to work. He had no other choice. They couldn’t outrun this fast-moving wildfire. He tasted ash, a bitter mixture of wood and dirt. The fire bellowed like a savage dragon, hellbent to destroy in the blink of an eye what took decades to grow and mature. Don’t panic! Keep it together. If I panic, the dogs will, and we’ll all go up in smoke. Cohen held the shelter down over the dogs and himself as best he could, pressing the dogs close to him. Flames swept the clearing from all directions, obliterating all sound except their tornadic roar. Crouching low in the water, he did his best to keep the puppies above the boggy surface—and prayed the dogs wouldn’t panic and run—or they’d all die. A dog barked; Cohen didn’t know who. Another yipped and cried. Madonna howled and Cohen felt her tense and brace, as if ready to run. “Whoa, Madonna, whoa Madonna…” He didn’t know how many times he repeated the husky’s name as the raging fire whipped around them. The natural water barrier certainly helped, but the winds tore at his shelter. He gripped it so tight he worried his hands would cramp and lose their hold. Despite his layers of protective Nomex, heat encased his fire shelter and pierced him as if he was the delicacy cooking on a closed outdoor grill. The hot destructive flames licked at the very edges of his shelter. He prayed it wouldn’t melt and collapse on him. A burning tree crashed into the bog in front of them, and Madonna yelped. The husky yanked away from their huddle, and Cohen watched helplessly as the sled dog bolted, jerking the burlap sack from around his neck and dragging the bundle of puppies through the water—straight toward the destructive flames.
GIVEAWAY! #Book Blitz #Stay For Me (The Balefire Series 5) by Tam DeRudder Jackson @Xpresso Book Tours3/5/2023
Stay For Me
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: Garrett’s nostrils flared, and he shifted on his stool. His eyes remained locked on mine as he slid his headphones from his head and set them aside. Cursing the tiny tremor in my hands, I removed my headphones and set them somewhere on the control board beside me. “Olivia.” My name on his lips rasped over me like calloused hands over my skin. Involuntary shivers rippled through me, and I clamped my thighs even tighter together. I stopped whatever he wanted to say next with my finger pressed to his full lips. For a long moment, neither of us moved. Then he reached up and smoothed his fingers up my palm and higher along the length of my fingers. His eyes dipped to our hands. Though we barely touched, sensations like electric currents sparked every nerve, beginning in my hand and arcing up my arm to trip my heart nearly into arrhythmia. My breath caught as he slid his fingers through mine, up and down, up and down, before he twined our hands together with a gentle squeeze. I closed my eyes and worked to find some air.
GIVEAWAY! Witches & Walk-In’s
-- EXCERPT: Betty The cool air tickled my arms. Tiny hairs rose with the gooseflesh. Small mounds of pimpled thermometers popped up over my arms, chest, and neck. I heard a beeping sound, faint at first, then slowly it became louder and closer. The scent of cleanser assaulted me, harsh and chemical. My eyes stayed firmly shut as if glued at the seam, or tiny weights held the lids down. My breath came in rhythmic, even bursts. What was that in my mouth? My tongue wiggled and slammed against the hard plastic. I couldn’t taste anything other than stale, rotting breath, but I could tell something was firmly lodged in my mouth. What the hell was it? Why was it there? I forced my eyes open a fraction. Moonlight filtered through the splintered cracks of my heavy lids and shattered against my eyes. Too bright! I closed them again, only long enough for my tongue to push up against the plastic in my mouth. I could feel it now, not just in my mouth, but going down my throat. A swell of panic ran from my toes to my nose. I wanted to gag. Spurred by the beeping beside me, louder now, my eyes flew open. I tried to sit up. I couldn’t move. I laid back against the softness of what must be a bed and peered around the room. A hospital room. I felt a heaviness as if underwater, the weight of my arms, legs, and chest making it difficult to see or breathe. The scent of cleanser pierced the back of my nose as I tried to breathe. What was that thing in my mouth and down my throat? I forced my eyes to open wider, but they burned and felt gritty like someone had sprinkled fine sand under the lids. I blinked several times to clear the grit. My eyes took a while to adjust. I looked down and saw a tube coming out of my mouth. My heart rate sped up. The beeping beside me kept pace as it beat faster and faster. Why did I wake up in a hospital? Was I in an accident? The beeping sped up again, fast enough to send a wail of high-pitched signals through my room and into the adjoining hallway. The large door burst open, startling me, which made the beeping speed up yet again. A nurse with short dark hair, dark-circled eyes, wearing pink scrubs with multicolored cartoon puppies on her shirt rushed in. “Betty! Oh my god, she’s awake!” she practically screamed, to whom I couldn’t imagine. I assumed she was talking about me, however, as she leaped to the beeping machine and pressed a button to stop the noise. Much better. But… Betty? Was that my name?
GIVEAWAY! |
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