At the age of four, I was kidnapped by an enemy of my father, and as a result of that day, I have learned to fight. Since the age of eighteen, I’ve been known as Jez (One Punch) Scozzari because the full force of my fist is enough to take down my opponent with just one hit.
With the help of my dad, I turned into a tatted up machine — built for speed, built for stamina … in all senses of the word. I was prepared to fight, prepared for practically anything. But nothing had prepared me for the girl who had once stolen my heart to come catapulting back into my life again. One look from her when she turned up that day at college, and I was back to when I was ten-years-old. She was my first crush … my first kiss.
And now that she’s back, there’s no way I’m going to let her escape this time.
Caitlin Summers
When I was ten, I fell for a boy who stole my heart. He was sweet, kind and gentle. He was my first kiss — the one who made a lasting impression.
Then, at the age of thirteen, I had to move, leaving behind my heart which belonged to that sweet, kind, and gentle boy.
Now, I’m back, hearing that the sweet boy I left behind has turned into this tattooed bad boy with a reputation for fighting … and an equal reputation for sleeping around.
I was determined not to let him in. Determined to put my walls up so high that not even the famous “One Punch” Scozzari could penetrate them.
But then came my first day of college when I saw him for the very first time in almost six years. One look from him and my solid walls came down with an earth-shattering crash. Just that one look and he had me … and he knew he had me.
That was day one of Jeremy stalking me.
I’m screwed.
Note from Author: if anyone has triggers when it comes to violence and attempted suicide, then reader’s need to be aware before delving in.
Blurb: Sisters Rachel, Angie, and Jo may have survived their first encounter with a curse, but hundreds more are lurking within their aunt’s antique shop. There’s just one problem: Peter, the apprentice, has no idea how to start teaching two untrained rune-casters and keep them safe at the same time.
Naet
It isn’t fair to Jo that she has no magic, but her sisters both do. She feels useless and left out. Worse yet, she knows that she’s a liability. She would leave but something in the shop is calling to her, reaching out … and she won’t leave until she finds it.
Ail
Every night, Angie’s dreams are haunted by a man who claims he was cursed, and she’s the only one who can save him. When she starts to get sick, Peter and her sisters are sure the cause is her mysterious dreams. How can they convince her that the person she’s determined to help could be the one killing her?
Eles
Rachel never expected to get a magic power and a boyfriend when she inherited the antique shop. Better yet, she’s actually good at curse-breaking. It seems as though she’s found exactly what she was meant to do. But, when a curse strikes two people she cares about, Rachel is faced with the harsh truth that she might only be able to save one.
Elizabeth Kirke wanted to be an author before she even knew what an author was. She used to say that she wanted to be an artist, but that was only because she was too young to write and had to tell stories with pictures instead. She hasn’t stopped writing since she learned how. It wasn’t long before she dreamed of becoming an author and couldn’t be happier now that that dream is a reality.
If she isn’t writing…well, let’s be honest; if she isn’t writing she’s probably on Facebook thinking that she should start writing. But, if she isn’t writing or on Facebook, she’s probably doing something involving books, baking, gardening, or yarn. In an ideal world, she’d be reading and knitting while something from the garden is in the oven. Then again, in an ideal world, she’d have a flock of ducks and a couple of goats.
Like most slightly-nosy, avid readers, Elizabeth can’t resist trying to catch a peek at books she sees people reading when out in public to see if she can figure out what it is. While doing just that one day, she realized that it would probably be the coolest-thing-ever if she caught a complete stranger reading one of her books. That’s her new dream.
The dim, dirty, scattered light bulbs hanging from the ceiling did almost nothing to help illuminate the back rooms of the antique shop. Angie wondered if anyone had ever bothered to try dusting them. Probably not, considering everything was covered in several inches of dust. Then again, the light bulbs probably weren’t cursed, whereas dusting anything else could be dangerous.
Angie made her way to, in her opinion, the creepiest room of the shop. Of course, every room was creepy. Each one was a huge, cavernous space, filled to capacity with piles and piles of antiques. None of the lights reached into the dark corners, which only added to the unnerving factor. The air itself felt stale to Angie, heavy somehow. Oppressive. She wondered if it was the dark magic.
But this room, which Peter jokingly called The Louvre, made Angie uncomfortable even before she’d known everything in it was cursed. Every inch of considerable wall space was covered with paintings, masks, and sconces. The floor was equally packed full of statues and sculptures. Angie could see outdoor furniture and birdbaths too, like some freaky garden supply store. The first time she entered the room it felt like the statues were staring at her. Now she wasn’t entirely sure some of them weren’t.
“Be careful,” Peter warned, as he and Rachel continued through the room. Rachel had volunteered to help him look for something about dreams, even though she wouldn’t have much luck reading the actual tomes.
“We will,” Angie promised. Jo nodded in agreement.
Angie turned her attention to one wall of paintings. She traced the rune ail three times and looked around. Everything had a muted aura with a distinctly pink tinge. It was nothing like the vivid red light of an active curse, but there was no mistaking the malicious magic clinging to everything. Angie suppressed a shiver and began scanning the paintings, hoping to spot one that looked different.
“What are you looking for exactly?” Jo asked.
“I’m not sure,” Angie admitted. “I was hoping ail would show me something, but nothing stands out. I thought maybe the curse affecting Ethan wouldn’t be sealed like the rest of these.”
“Can you tell the difference?”
“I think so. The trunk was bright red when it was cursing Rachel. Everything in here looks pink.”
“I wish I could see it,” Jo said sadly.
Angie knew there was nothing she could say to make her sister feel better. She doubted that pointing out Peter and Rachel didn’t have the same power would help. And even with the danger of being a rune-caster she knew Jo would rather have magic than not.
Instead, she flashed Jo a weak smile and moved closer to the paintings.
Jo followed. “Can I help anyway? Somehow?”
“Actually, yeah,” Angie said. Jo’s eyes lit up eagerly. “Since I don’t see anything different in the magic, I was thinking maybe we could tell which painting it is based on what it looks like.”
Jo caught on immediately. “You mean you think the painting might be of Ethan?”
“Exactly.”
With a nod, Jo started wandering toward another wall of paintings. “So, we’re looking for portraits, then?”
Angie nodded back and headed to a corner. Slowly, she made her way along the wall, studying each portrait, waiting for the moment she felt a sense of recognition.
“Hey, what about this one?” Jo called.
“What does he look like?” Even as she asked, Angie realized she couldn’t quite recall him. Her gut told her blond.
“It’s hard to say. It’s a big farmhouse, but there’s a guy standing in the doorway.”
Angie wrinkled her nose. “That’s not a portrait.”
“I know! I was thinking of that book we read when we were little. Remember? There was a girl who went missing and her parents found her in a painting and she kept moving around it?”
The plot sounded familiar. “That’s right… damn that means he could be in any of these that have people.” Angie went back to the corner and started over again, squinting at each tiny figure. And then, up high, she spotted one that caught her eye. She had dismissed it before for not being a portrait. It was a man sitting in a chair in a room. But something about him seemed strange. Almost like he was trapped there. She stretched up on her tiptoes trying to get a good look.
“Hey, An?”
“Yeah?” she said.
“What if these are all people?”
Angie frowned in the direction of her sister’s voice. “They’re not all people!” She looked back at the wall and pointed, even though Jo couldn’t see. “This one is a basket of fruit.”
“No, I mean these are all cursed, right? What if there’s a person trapped like Ethan in every one.”
The thought made Angie step back from the wall in alarm. Her eyes roved over every painting, taking it in. What if Jo was right? “That’s… horrible. There must be a hundred.”
“I’ve seen more in other rooms.”
Angie sighed. This was going to be a nightmare. And if people were somehow trapped in them all… “We’ll have to ask Peter. Maybe we need to start breaking the curses on these as soon as possible.”
“Agreed.”
Angie backed up a few more steps, craning her neck at the highest paintings. Why even hang them so high? It’s not as if they were on display for anything or anyone. It would have been easier to just stack them all together somewhere. She bumped into something and jumped. After turning to see what it was, she nearly jumped again. It was one of the statues.
“Ugh!”
She started to turn away, but paused and studied the statue. It was a young, handsome man. He had a sad expression and Angie decided it was exactly what she was looking for in a painting. The statue no longer had arms, and Angie wondered how old it was and what it had looked like in its prime. Something drew her eyes to its face again and she frowned. She reminded herself it was cursed, and forced herself to turn away.
Right next to it was a chair. In fact, it was a sturdy, metal garden chair and Angie was confident it would hold her weight. Giving the statue a wide berth, she made her way over to the chair, dragged it to the wall and climbed up, face to face with the painting of the man in the room.
Up close, it was clear he was in distress. His face and his posture screamed for help. And yet, Angie could just feel that he didn’t look like Ethan.
She climbed down with a sigh and moved on to examine more paintings. Eventually she made her way to the far corner, so dark that Jo was shining her phone flashlight up at the paintings.
“Anything?”
“Nothing. Not that I know what he looks like. You?”
Angie shook her head. “I found one that looked weird, but up close I don’t think it was him.”
“There’s a stack over there,” Jo pointed. “But I wasn’t sure if we can touch them.”
“As long as we’re careful not to cut ourselves, Peter said we’re okay,” Angie said. “But if you feel funny or anything, let me know and we’ll set aside the last one you touched.”
Jo nodded. “Same to you.”
They turned their attention to the stack of paintings leaning up against the wall. After only a few, Angie heaved a sigh.
“You okay?” Jo asked.
Her sister nodded, but blew out another heavy breath. “I’m starting to feel a little light-headed.”
Jo immediately cast a worried glance at the paintings. “Light-headed or… cursed?”
“I’m… not sure.”
“Let’s go get Peter.”
Angie nodded in agreement. The two carefully separated the last painting they examined from the pile and headed out of the room. An uneasy feeling crept over Angie as she followed her sister out. She paused in the doorway and looked back, reluctant to leave.
My road to recovery began with Brody—the man who saved my life.
Without his courage and determination, I’d have died in the fire that took the lives of my entire family. If that’s not a hero, I don’t know what is.
Brody has been by my side every step…but the emotional scars are as crippling as the physical ones, even if they’re harder to see. The anxiety of being around people, seeing their disgust, feeling their pity—I’m not sure I can handle it.
Maybe it’s wrong, but feelings are developing between us, leading to stolen glances and sneaky kisses. The problem is I’m not quite eighteen, he’s twenty-five, and we’re living under someone else’s roof. It would be so much simpler with someone my own age, like Bennett, the hottest guy in school.
How can Brody and I possibly be together? And if we were, how would we explain all this to our friends and Brody’s family—who also happen to be my foster parents? I’ve already lost so much…but can I lose someone who shouldn’t even be mine?
A coffee addicted, tattoo enthusiastic fangirl with a slight obsession for a particular British boy band and solo artist, she is a writer of Contemporary YA/NA Romance and Suspense, sometimes dabbling in Paranormal as well.
Renee lives in Melbourne, Australia with her husband and two sons. When not writing she can often be found reading books to her children and cuddling up with them on the couch to watch their favourite movies.
At the age of four, I was kidnapped by an enemy of my father, and as a result of that day, I have learned to fight. Since the age of eighteen, I’ve been known as Jez (One Punch) Scozzari because the full force of my fist is enough to take down my opponent with just one hit.
With the help of my dad, I turned into a tatted up machine — built for speed, built for stamina … in all senses of the word. I was prepared to fight, prepared for practically anything. But nothing had prepared me for the girl who had once stolen my heart to come catapulting back into my life again. One look from her when she turned up that day at college, and I was back to when I was ten-years-old. She was my first crush … my first kiss.
And now that she’s back, there’s no way I’m going to let her escape this time.
Caitlin Summers
When I was ten, I fell for a boy who stole my heart. He was sweet, kind and gentle. He was my first kiss — the one who made a lasting impression.
Then, at the age of thirteen, I had to move, leaving behind my heart which belonged to that sweet, kind, and gentle boy.
Now, I’m back, hearing that the sweet boy I left behind has turned into this tattooed bad boy with a reputation for fighting … and an equal reputation for sleeping around.
I was determined not to let him in. Determined to put my walls up so high that not even the famous “One Punch” Scozzari could penetrate them.
But then came my first day of college when I saw him for the very first time in almost six years. One look from him and my solid walls came down with an earth-shattering crash. Just that one look and he had me … and he knew he had me.
That was day one of Jeremy stalking me.
I’m screwed.
Note from Author: if anyone has triggers when it comes to violence and attempted suicide, then reader’s need to be aware before delving in.
Tracey has known the Burtons practically all her life. They’re her best friend’s parents. When she was a little girl they took her on days out to the beach. But she’s a woman now, and they have some very important lessons to teach her …
‘This is the hottest Swinging/Pologmy/Menage a trois since Selena Kitt’s Babysiting the Baumgartners’
** Training Tracey is a wicked and uber-hot coming-of-age menage, filled with MF, FF & MFF scenes from the Lord of Lust’s Dark and Dirty alter ego. There is NO cheating, NO cliffhanger anda guaranteed HEA with plenty of steam. **
Warning 18+: This book is erotic and contains material that may be considered offensive to some readers, which includes graphic language, explicit sex, and adult situations.
A self-confessed Tiger fanatic, L.M. Mountford was born and raised in England, first in the town of Bridgewater, Somerset, before later moving to the city of Gloucester where he currently resides. A fully qualified and experienced Scuba Diver, he has traveled across Europe and Africa diving wrecks and seeing the wonders of the world.
He started writing when he was 14. Under the pseudonym Dark Inferno, he has written more than thirty Fanfiction stories.
Neglected by her mother, abused by her stepfather, and trapped in an oppressive cult, Willow Sands has lived the past three years with the shadow of her fifteenth birthday hanging over her. That was the day her mother handed her over to David, the son of their leader, promising her a future even more bleak than she’d ever imagined. Now, with her eighteenth birthday and the day of her wedding fast approaching, she’s almost come to accept her fate.
Hope was the last thing Willow expected to feel this close to her wedding, but that’s exactly what she finds in Jared. The more time she spends with him, the more haunted she becomes by the freedom she let slip through her fingers all those years ago. She knows if she wants a real future she’ll have to break free of the crushing grip the cult has on her, and the more she gets to know Jared, the more determined she becomes to gain her freedom once and for all.
Kate L. Mary is an award-winning author of New Adult and Young Adult fiction, ranging from Post-apocalyptic tales of the undead, to Speculative Fiction and Contemporary Romance. Her YA book, When We Were Human, was the 2015 Children’s Moonbeam Book Awards Silver Medal Winner for Young Adult Fantasy/Sci-Fi Fiction, and the 2016 Readers’ Favorite Gold Medal Winner for Young Adult Science Fiction.
Publication Date: February 12th, 2018 Hosted by: Lady Amber’s PR
Blurb: I Am Death.
I Am Darkness.
I Am Creation.
These are the simple truths Emma Rose Crane, AKA Mattie Hathaway, has run from for the last two years, but the situation she finds herself in will not let her flee her past anymore. It’s barreling toward her at the speed of a bullet.
Mattie finds herself back in Charlotte, North Carolina, for the trial of Dan’s mother. She’s determined to see this ordeal through for Dan, even though his vindictive mother uses the situation to try to tear them apart.
If that weren’t enough, she lands on a supernatural hit list and has to rescue a woman who’s close to death—and survive the psycho who took her to begin with.
But just when things start to go right, the unthinkable happens.
Three gunshots.
Three truths.
But in the end, will her past save her future…or will it take everything she cherishes from her?
So who am I?
Well, I’m the crazy girl with an imagination that never shuts up. I LOVE scary movies. My friends laugh at me when I scare myself watching them and tell me to stop watching them, but who doesn’t love to get scared? I grew up in a small town nestled in the southern mountains of West Virginia where I spent days roaming around in the woods, climbing trees, and causing general mayhem. Nights I would stay up reading Nancy Drew by flashlight under the covers until my parents yelled at me to go to sleep.
Now, I live in a small town in West Virginia where I entertain my niece and nephew and watch the cats get teased by the birds and laugh myself silly when they swoop down and then dive back up just out of reach. The cats start yelling something fierce…lol.
I love books, I love writing books, and I love entertaining people with my silly stories.
