Title: A Curse of Stone and Fire
Author: A.B. Bloom
Genre: YA Fantasy/Romance
Cover Designer: The Graphics Shed
Editor: Andie M Long
Publication Date: March 18th, 2019
Can dreams become reality?
American orphan Mae Adams, has moved around her whole life. With no place to call home and no direction, she’s never felt like she belonged. But everything changes the day she steps into Fire Stone, a secluded school in the depths of the Scottish Highlands. It’s there that she dreams of a girl—a powerful druid priestess—who has magic abilities which could shape the future of the world.
While the vivid dreams of the past haunt her every moment, Mae has to face the dangerous and dark hatred of another Fire Stone student, Tristan Prince. He has no reason to hate her, and yet they share an overwhelming impulse to kill one another.
When Mae finds a gathering of secret standing stones and the macabre remains they hold, the wild forest calls to her soul in a way she’s never known.
Believing in the impossible and stepping through the stones to the past, may be the only way for her to discover the truth and the enormous power she contains. The fate of the world may just depend on it if Tristan Prince doesn’t end her first.
A book hoarder and coffee addict by heart Anna Bloom loves to write extraordinary stories about real love. Based south of London with her husband, three children and a dog with a beard, Anna likes to connect with readers, fan girl over her favourite authors and binge watch Supernatural while drinking lots of wine.
That same intense desire I’d felt even as he stalked away from the night before took over. That pull I’d had in Mrs Cox’s office to go in search of him—it was there, inside of me. Deep within the centre of my body, the need to search for him abated.
I still wanted to stab him with a pole and parade him at the entrance to the nearest bridge. The two opposing forces warred within me.
Although I was silent in my approach, his shoulders stiffened. “Don’t come any closer.” With his quiet words, my legs trembled and wobbled.
My chest tightened until every breath stung. Yet still I stood there. The trees waved and watched as awkward silence spun around us. I scanned the page his hand rested on. Sensitive pencil strokes had drawn the leaves hanging overhead. How could the fingers that had nearly squeezed the life from me have produced such a sensitive and light touch? I gasped. Under the leaves was me, outlined in slate grey. Same eyes, same nose and lips. Only my dress was different. In the place of the trainers and skinny jeans I’d worn the night before was a simple cotton dress which hung to the floor, hinting at the curves I kept safely hidden beneath layers of baggy outerwear.
The forest began to darken, stealing shadows creeping into the edges of my vision.
I took an instinctive step towards him. The pulsing repulsion which made me want to hurl sharp objects at him, jarred against the need to know what it was about this place, about those repetitive dreams.
“Don’t come closer,” he repeated, and my stomach flipped and dived like on the rollercoaster at Coney Island. I clutched my tummy.
“Why are you drawing me?”