99% Faking It

Title: 99% Faking It
Author: Chris Cannon
Genre: YA RomCom, Sweet Romance
Publisher: Entangled Teen
Publication Date: March 4th, 2019
Blurb:
Lisa is a card-carrying, book-loving Gryffindor. Solid. And that’s why everyone knows she’s awesome. Well, except for her crush, Matt. He only ever sees her as a friend. Plus, he’s got his eye on another girl. Oh well, plenty of fish and all that.
Good thing Lisa just read a book on the “wedding ring phenomenon”—you get more attention when you’re already taken. What if Lisa pretends to be Matt’s plus one? Maybe it’ll help Matt get his girl and Lisa can hook her own fish.
After the plan works, Matt suddenly claims he doesn’t like the view from the friend-zone and wants her instead… But she isn’t interested in being anyone’s second choice. If this guy wants to earn her attention, he’ll need more than some silly “phenomenon.”
He’ll need to go all out…
Buy Links: 
The Dating Debate: http://amzn.to/2GdaA0R
99% Faking It: https://amzn.to/2tpEPN9
Chris Cannon is the award-winning author of the Going Down In Flames series and the Boyfriend Chronicles. She lives in Southern Illinois with her husband and several furry beasts.
She believes coffee is the Elixir of Life. Most evenings after work, you can find her sucking down caffeine and writing fire-breathing paranormal adventures or romantic comedies. You can find her online at www.chriscannonauthor.com.

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Apple Boy

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Book Title: Apple Boy (The Quiet Work #1)

Author: Isobel Starling

Publisher: Decent Fellows Press

Cover Artist: Valentine Pascadian (Lennel)

Genre/s: Fantasy, M/M Romance

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length:103 600 words/ 556 pages

Release Date: February 15, 2019

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Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Blurb

After a traumatic event, Winter Aeling finds himself destitute and penniless in the backwater town of Mallowick. He needs to travel to the city of Serein and impart grave news that will bring war to the Empire, but without a horse, money, and with not a soul willing to help him, he has no choice but to line up with the common folk seeking paid work on the harvest.

As wagons roll into the market square and farmers choose day laborers, Winter is singled out for abuse by a brute of a farmer. The only man who stands up for him is the farmer’s beguiling son, Adam, and on locking eyes with the swarthy young man Winter feels the immediate spark of attraction.

Winter soon realizes there is a reason he has been drawn to Blackdown Farm. The farmer possesses a precious item that was stolen long ago from Winter’s family, and he determines to retrieve it. He also cannot take his eyes off the farmer’s son, and as the young man opens up Winter can’t help wondering if Adam is just kind or his kind!

Excerpt

“Apple Boy” by Isobel Starling

CHAPTER 1

MARKET SQUARE

“You boy, aye, YOU. Ain’t never seen ye round ‘ere before,” The farmer directed his bellow at me.

It was sunrise, and at last, I’d found the courage to step out of my hiding place and join the common laborers who gathered in Mallowick market square. We were waiting for the farmers’ carts to come by and choose their day workers. I’d watched this ritual each morning for the past three days, peeking out from shadowed doorways, or while crouching behind barrels.

It was harvest time, and it appeared to be routine for peasants to walk from the surrounding hamlets before dawn and assemble in the square to seek work on the farms. There was wheat, barley, root vegetables, and tree fruits to be gathered before the weather turned. I was informed by a ruddy looking fellow in the tavern that anyone could get work on the harvest, and so, with my pride cut to ribbons and my pockets empty, I’d stepped out of the safety of my hiding place and joined the commoners.

“Does ye wants work or no’? Look at me when I’m talkin’ to ye. What’s yer name?” The burley farmer roared. I looked up, stunned to be singled out from among all of these strapping men and hardy looking women, for I felt invisible. Four carts had already passed and taken their pick of the young, strong peasants, but none of those farmers gave me a second glance. I should have known something was afoot, for when this particular wagon turned up the women in the square shrank back into doorways, and men sidled away to lean against buildings. On the side of the wagon, writ-large in bold off-white letters were the words BLACKDOWN FARM. There were around thirty of us left on view, like cattle.

I had never partaken in manual labor or any kind of work before. I was a gentleman and far more familiar with spending my days relaxing, reading, attending social events in the city, or taking a horse for a gallop in the country. But my life had changed since I’d become stranded here in the Pasturelands provincial town of Mallowick two weeks earlier. Now I was living on my wits. Each day was a fight for my life, and I’d sold all of my fine belongings, intending to pay for passage on the stagecoach from Mallowick to the city of Serein. But I had not thought things through, and it did not happen that way. My body’s needs took precedent. I’d become so ravenous, and therefore the meager coin I’d gathered from selling my finery was spent on what I could afford—basic rough barley bread and ale, just enough to stave off the gnawing pangs of hunger in my belly each day. Now, I had no belongings, and the money was all but gone. I was no thief, and the only thing I had left to sell was my body. Looking like a wretch, I did not believe I could earn even a copper that way! Before I left on my travels, I was warned that the province of Erias had strict rules about men bedding other men and I did not want to tempt fate. I was at a loss—hard labor or starvation were the only choices available to me. Gods, if my father could see how far I’d fallen in such a short time, he would be thoroughly ashamed. I was living hand-to-mouth, and if I dared to seek out my reflection and observe my disreputable state of dress, I was sure I would see I was no longer a gentleman at all.

I assured myself that all would be well as soon as I could get to the city of Serein. There I would attend my father’s depository and obtain funds from his account—as had been arranged, and then, I could find my way to my uncle’s residence and attend to a much grimmer business.

So, with no other choice, I was here, standing in Mallowick market square with a bunch of rough-looking fellows and ruddy-faced women with just the ragged clothes I stood in to my name. I wondered if my visage had taken on the same gaunt, starved, haunted look some of them wore.

“WELL?” The farmer roared.

“Leave him be Pa; I think he’s a mute. P… p… please don’t—” A swarthy young man urged, stepping to the farmers’ side. The man appeared to be in his early twenties, with broad angular shoulders, slim hips, and wavy jaw-length hair that longingly reminded me of Montestein tea. When the morning sunlight broke through the clouds and caressed him, the strands of his hair revealed all the shades of autumn. It was beautiful. His eyes were bright emerald green, and his skin bore the wind-burned tan of a man who spent his days working the land. I met his gaze for a second that seemed to stop time, and I felt a flutter of longing erupt in my gut. I found myself mesmerized by him. He appeared a little embarrassed, for himself or for me, I wasn’t quite sure. The farmer turned to his son.

“Shut that filthy mouth o’ yours, apple boy!” he spat. His large meaty hands twitched. He sneered and glared at his son in such a wicked way I knew it should have been followed up by a sharp slap. I worried that the young man would endure further public humiliation at the hands of his father, but the farmer moved his disdainful glare back to me. I shuddered with fear. I had a feeling that he was saving his son’s punishment for later—away from the prying eyes of the townsfolk. I did not like that thought, not one bit. I did not know why the farmer was drawn to me, but he sized me up with a sweeping glance of consideration, then wrinkled his nose as if he’d sniffed a revolting stench—I hadn’t bathed in two weeks, so maybe I did smell a tad ripe!

“Is ye a mute?”

I shook my head. I would say, if anything, I was deeply traumatized by the unfortunate circumstance I’d found myself in, but no, I was certainly not a mute. I just wasn’t used to a lowly man speaking to me so roughly. Generally, men who dared to address me knew their betters and behaved appropriately. But here in Mallowick, in the province of Erias, I was no better than a beggar on the street. There was no one I could call on for favors, no one who, on hearing my family name, would loan me coin for the stagecoach or a horse to ride to the city and send word to my father.

When I’d first arrived in Mallowick, telling the truth of my station had gotten me dragged down an alley where my finger and earrings were stolen, and I’d received a beating. This farmer from Blackdown Farm had no idea who I was, and I would not make the same mistake again.

I took a breath and stepped out of line. “Master Irwin Harding, sir. You may call me Win.” I winced at hearing my own soft, well-spoken voice, with my accent, the clipped tongue of Thorn. I had not used my real name and wished I had not used my true voice either. The fact that I was the son of the Duke of Thorn meant nothing here. Thorn was west of Erias, on the other side of the Silua Montis Mountain range, and I doubted any of these illiterate souls in Mallowick knew anything other than that folklore passed around by storytellers.

The farmer stepped to stand in front of me. He was a big, bulky bastard of a man and stank of stale sweat and baccy. He had a grizzled podgy face and thick dark hair shot with strands of silver pulled into an untidy tail. The tension grew between us, and I worried I’d spoken out of turn. I looked down and watched my bare, filthy feet as if they held endless fascination. I’d seen men like him before. He had hands like shovels, and I’m sure they’d done damage in their time. My father would have used a man like him well, probably as muscle to intimidate the city folk while the Royal Chancellor did the rounds collecting taxes.

Afraid and sweating with anxiety, I glanced up and away, unable to look at the farmer directly and meet his fierce piggy eyes. Instead, I looked left and caught the eye of his son. I felt another flutter of attraction. I was grateful for it because it dampened my fear a little. The glance the farmers’ son sent me back was sheepish, apologetic. He shrugged and put a finger to his lips, signaling for me to hush. I’m sure now he knew what was coming.

Master, is it?” The farmer gave a raspy malevolent chuckle. “Well, well, well aren’t ye an uppity little scrote. Such a pretty voice an’ all. Have your balls dropped yet, lad?”

The townsmen men standing around me shuffled on their feet and snickered uncomfortably. I could tell from the tentative laughter they were afraid of this man too. My chest tightened with fury, and I felt the flare of heat rush to color my cheeks. If in Thorn I would have put this fellow in his place, but as directed by the farmers’ handsome son, I held my tongue.

I dared to look up as the farmer scratched his grizzled chin and consider me. It was then I saw it. A chill iced my bones. On his chubby right index finger, he wore a gold ring set with a large red gemstone that I was aghast to see held the intaglio engraving of a rose thorn—my family’s seal. How had this disgusting Pasturelands farmer come upon my family’s ring? Anger curdled my gut, but I forced myself to focus and fixed my features so as not to alert the man to what I was looking at. That ring was more precious than I could say. It was not set with any common gemstone, oh no, the setting was Star-fall. The legend was that mortal tools could not cut the rich-red Star-fall stone. The gemstone was shaped by sorcery, and the power that carved into the gem was stored inside it as if the Star-fall was a reservoir for the magic. It was illegal for any other than the Twin Kings of Osia to own Star-fall. The king’s men had scoured the Empire to remove all traces of the priceless gem from common and aristocratic hands and possessing it was a death sentence. Did this ruffian have any idea what he wore?

Not getting a rise from me, the farmer stepped yet closer and found out for himself if my balls had dropped. He reached for my privates and squeezed.

Ahh, ye got some big stones de’re al’right, boy,” he said with a filthy sneer.

“Done any labourin’ before, lad?” My eyes watered. I shook my head and winced as the pressure on my most sensitive parts rose. I wanted to shout and push him away, punch him in that bristly pug face. I’d trained in hand-to-hand combat and swordplay, but that was of little use to me now that I had no sword and was cast as naught but a commoner myself. I stood frozen to the spot with fear, my cock, and balls in the hand of this brutish man. I was sure that clutching my nethers was not the best way to test if I would be a good apple picker.

The farmer let go, stepped back, and looked me over again like he was sizing up a prize pig. I wanted to keel over, hold my sensitive parts and howl, but, with my eyes watering, I kept my back ramrod straight and looked past the farmer, using his son’s regretful, pretty green eyes as my focus.

I appeared to be a boy, but I am nineteen and about to make my majority. I have a tall, willowy frame, and little muscle to show for my near twenty summers. Weeks before, I was clothed in the silken garb of a lordling, but all I wore now were my stinky silk britches and a once-white linen shirt. I’d even had to sell my fine leather boots. My flaxen hair hung loosely to my shoulders and was bedraggled. My mother had always told me my hair shone like a golden halo. I guessed that was no longer the case. I had not seen my reflection in two weeks so I could only imagine how frightful I appeared to onlookers. My circumstance was terrible, but I refused to let it defeat me. I was a son of Thorn, I was a gentleman, damn it, and I was prepared to do whatever it took to do to find my way to my destination and seek justice for all the ill-luck that had befallen me.

“Right, scrote, up on the wagon,” the farmer declared. “We can always do wit a few extra scurrier’s fer the windfalls.”

I had no idea what that actually meant, but strangely relieved to be selected, I nodded subserviently and then, ducking my head to avoid the farmers’ glare, I scurried to the wagon where I surreptitiously gave my aching intimate parts a gentle rub.

I’d heard from a fellow in the tavern that harvesting wheat at Robinswood Farm was backbreaking, as was digging root vegetables at Windy Oakes Farm. He advised that apple picking was easy work and if I could get employment at Weatherby’s or Blackdown Farm, they paid good coin. He said the mistress at Blackdown was particularly well-liked and always gave laborers a bread and cheese luncheon with last season’s cider. I was so hungry that bread and cheese sounded like a banquet. The fellow had neglected to tell me that the farmer was a brute!

The farmers’ son met me by the wagon and offered to help me aboard. For a moment, from the look of consideration in his eyes, I thought he could see past the disheveled state of me to the gentleman I’d once been. But that was ridiculous. The farmers’ son hopped up onto the back of the wagon with dexterous athleticism, and then offered me his hands. I took them without a thought. His warm touch and the strength in those work-roughened fingers twisted my gut into uncomfortable knots. He fixed my gaze as he gripped both of my hands and tugged me up as easily as if he were lifting feather down. He pulled me closed and pressed me to his hard chest.

“Don’t back chat him or it’ll be the worst fer you,” he whispered the warning to my ear. Alarmed, I eased back from him and cautiously met his eye for a split second. In the look he gave me I saw that the warning was well-meant. Bewildered, I nodded in thanks and understanding. I had no idea why this stranger was looking out for me, but the fact he was warmed my heart. I choked back a tear. No one had looked out for me over these past weeks, and I had been so terribly lonely. I’d learned some hard life lessons on this leg of my journey, and I’d come to understand that here my title was irrelevant, and without money I was suddenly invisible; therefore small kindnesses meant more than I could say.

My adventure into the provinces had been made to appease my father for my supposed ‘lack of direction.’ I’d become bored with my easy life in Thorn, and not intending to marry; I’d told my father that in-light of my upcoming twentieth Bloomsday I wanted to tour the Empire. If I were to one-day become Duke of Thorn, I needed to know a little of the politics of each province and so, pleased with my initiative and happy to be rid of me for a while, he’d set me on my way. I’d toured the provinces of Terria, Corvay, and Reuss and then continued to the province of Osia, spending time in the capital city Altea, at the court of the Twin Kings, Kristoff, and Fabian Von Harte. With this journey to Erias, I was to have the full set of provinces under my belt. But fate was not on my side.

On benches affixed to either side of the farmers’ wagon sat fourteen men morosely staring at their bare, filthy feet, not a word of chatter between them. They each owned a small pack of belongings and a wrapped blanket that each had stowed beneath the bench. At this moment they were better-off than me, for I did not even have a blanket to my name. There was space for me and five more, totaling twenty men. The farmer chose from the remaining laborers with less consideration than I had been afforded.

“Right… I’ll take Allin, Jed, Arthur, Bartram, and Matty, that’ll do me fer the week,” he hollered decisively.

The week? I thought I’d promised myself for a hard day’s labor? But then again, I considered the harvesters who were sitting in the wagon, and yes, they appeared to have prepared for an overnight stay. Confused, I sat down as the other laborers were pulled up onto the wagon by their comrades, and then we shuffled along the benches until we were all seated. I noticed the shoulders of the remaining men in the market square sag a little in apparent relief as if some mighty weight had lifted from them. I didn’t understand it. I thought they’d wanted to work?

The farmers’ son clambered over into the front of the wagon. His father climbed on, the man’s bulk shaking the timbers of the rickety wagon as he settled on the bench beside him. The son handed his father the ribbons, which the farmer greedily snatched up, and then with a fearsome bellow of “Geddup” and a thunderous whip crack, the large mottled grey workhorse began its cumbersome trot down the main street and onto the dusty road to Blackdown Farm.

About the Author

Isobel Starling spent most of her twenty-year professional career making art in Ireland. She relocated to the UK and, faced with the dreaded artist’s creative block, Isobel started to write and found she loved writing more than making art.

Isobel is currently working on her nineteenth book.

“As You Wish” (Shatterproof Bond#1) narrated by Gary Furlong won the Audiobook Reviewer Award for Romance 2018. It is the first M/M Romance audiobook to win a mainstream audiobook award.

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The Bitching Tree

The Bitching Tree

by Scott Hungerford

An urban fantasy novel about a very small crow.

Available on Amazon Kindle for $3.99

Set in the modern-day world of the Corax Chronicles, The Bitching Tree is a story about a very small crow named Cobb.  A crow that loves to fly, he lives in Seattle as a member of the great flock that congregates around the majestic Bitching Tree. Serving both as a site of governance and a place to cast grievances, the tree is the center of Seattle crow society – and also a potent source of nature’s primal magic.

But when news arrives that an ancient enemy named the Red Crow is coming to claim the tree for his own, Cobb is given the task of journeying all the way from Seattle to Cordova, Alaska, in order to meet his new mentor and undergo the training he will need to both protect his flock and keep the Bitching Tree from falling into the hands of evil. But the quest will require Cobb to maintain a delicate balance between the crow he is – and the hero he needs to become.

Opening Pages of ‘The Bitching Tree’

Dawn rises over the Seattle skyline, painting rose over gray at the beginning of an early October morning. Bands of color warm the sky, spreading out across the sleeping city, warming cold brick and chilled metal with the first rays of day.

Hungry, desperately so, he keeps moving along the edge of the rooftop, ticking his way alongside the gutters, scraping along the tar paper, occasionally stopping to check out a glistening tidbit or morsel stuck in the old metal edges. Hunched shoulders, bent back, intent eyes—a wriggling bug becomes another tasty, crunchy snack. It doesn’t satisfy his hunger, but it’s an early morning start. Other crows taw and fly by in the distance, on their way to meeting points and secret breakfast spots they keep to themselves. By the sound of their calls they’re nobody he knows, but they’re kin nonetheless.

Hopping down, he makes an outstretched landing on the edge of an open garbage dumpster below, then conducts a hurried, quick series of motions along the rim, trying to mimic grace, balance, and dexterity. But just as he’s about to reach the center, without fluttering or flailing even once, he slip-slides off the slick metal. Instead of falling in, he falls out—and makes a hard landing on the pavement five feet below, a crash hard enough to clack his teeth, rattle his bones, and leave him sitting sprawl-legged on the sidewalk with pebbles and grit stinging his palms.

“Fuck!” he yells at the world, at the rose color already starting to fade out of the morning sky. Hungry and wet and exhausted, he’s tired of being tall, of everything being so out of proportion, so giant, so skewed. He knows that after the long trip on foot up the hill from the University he’s almost to his roost. It’s just up there in the square of glass and concrete situated above the alley, in the place his body knows deep down as his home.

He. He calls home.

“Fuck!” he yells again, frustrated, dragging it out, making his displeasure known. A dirty gray gull on the wing, feathers ruffling with the sound of its passage, flies over the alley and steadfastly ignores his plight. His eyes follow the scavenger to make sure it isn’t going to circle around and pick a fight. When he is sure that the gull is gone, the man looks back at the ladder that led up to the roof of the three-story tenement—the accursed ladder that got him nowhere but standing above where he lived, and most certainly not within it!

Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulls out the ring of metal bits, shiny and jagged. He remembers the fluid feeling of key in lock, of long appendages wrapping around a protrusion and clenching hard to open the portal wide. Getting up from the concrete, regretting the pain in his tailbone, he limps around the building to the glass entry at the front. He fumbles with the ring of puzzles until he finds the one he thinks he needs.

Following the man’s memories, he manages to insert the metal bit and deceive the door into opening for him. Once inside, he intuitively sprints up the carpeted stairs and down the hallway to his own scratched white door, number fourteen, as if he’s running for his life.

This door yields for him as well. Inside, it’s warm and safe. He knows he’s alone, in a small number of rooms with nowhere to hide anyone but him. After a lifetime under open sky and living at the roosting bridge by the University, the empty, low-ceilinged set of chambers seems impossibly vast and impossibly cramped all at the same time. Pictures, drawn with lead and charcoal and chalk, are displayed on the walls, showing people and places from all around the city. The bed is a mess. Clothes are scattered across the floor and the laundry basket is full to overflowing. The sink is filled with dishes that stink. The bag in the plastic bin beneath the sink smells of metal and spoil.

Taking off his coat, he drops it on the floor by the edge of the bed. Struggling, he manages to wrest off his shoes without untying the laces, mostly by standing on the heels and shoving down with his misshapen feet with all his might. When he is barefoot he feels better, he feels—

—like his mind is breaking. Wriggling, naked white toes instead of talons. His beautiful feathers are gone and his face is ripped apart, delicate beak replaced with brittle teeth that feel like they would break if he accidentally chewed a stone. Panicked, his body reacts, and he flees by instinct into the tiled room off the hallway. Presented with a low bowl of water and an empty knee-high basin partly protected by a hanging sheet of plastic, he chooses the latter to vomit and splatter into, not wanting to foul any water he might need to drink later. He messily throws up all of the bits and bugs he’s eaten since it happened last night at dusk. He is shocked at the fluid feel of his body giving up precious sustenance so easily.

When the spasms cease and he has the strength to stand again, he rises and washes his face in the sink. Cold water numbs his fingers and the skin of his face. He looks up, and that’s when he sees himself for the first time. Ridiculous rounded ears and brown hair and slight nose, the curve of his jaw and the strange hollow depression resting between his nose and mouth. He touches the weird spot, the inversion, marveling at its distinction, its lack of purpose, even as his wide brown eyes dart back and forth between his hands and the mirror, trying to make sense of his reflection’s naked truth.

Eyelashes are ridiculous, he decides, then looks away, unable to take the shame of his visage. No one would recognize him now, no one he knew and loved. He is a human now, with feet and hands and a history. He is a crow, too, lost in this skyscraper of a body, looking out through twin round-lensed windows at the ground far below, without wings to carry him and prevent him from falling. Just useless hands and elbows and knees, a featherless automaton that moves and repeats and remembers without being told.

Drying his face on a towel, he staggers into the kitchen looking for something to clear the taste of sorrow out of his strangely shaped mouth.

On the countertop he finds bread, a whole dark loaf of it, filled with cracked bits of grain and seeds. Stunned, never having seen such a cornucopia unguarded before, he messily tears open the plastic bag and lets the pieces of bread fall and tumble to the floor. Dropping to his knees, he begins to eat, cramming in mouthful after mouthful with both hands, ripping at the soft fabric of the food, stunned at the taste of freshness and softness that fills every bite. He resists the nearly primal urge to call out, to alert other crows to what he’s found so they can share the meal and safety in numbers together, proof from jays and gulls and whatever other thieves are nearby. But he manages to keep silent, to keep his mouth stuffed with bread, preserving the prize all to himself.

When he’s had his fill, when most of the loaf is gone, he lays down among the torn, yeasty remainders to make sure that no other crow gets his feast. There, half tucked beneath the sink, his head resting on a fallen hand towel, he looks at the art-covered refrigerator. He looks up at the early morning clouds moving slowly outside the window and feels a strange calm coming over him.

He remembers himself for a moment, from back when he had feathers instead of fingers. Amid all the noise and words and images that are in constant tumult within the human mind, he grasps a fleeting memory of why he is here in the human world, lost and alone. Of how it all started for him yesterday morning beneath the canopy of the Bitching Tree, a great sprawling oak with branches reaching high enough to meet the sky.

Protected by Old Thom, the sacred tree is the center of every crow’s world for three days’ flight in every direction. It is where the flocks that live throughout the vast human city come to argue disputes and serve justice upon one another with all the authority the tree offers. The old oak is the heart, their sanctum, the shared place where the old power rises up to aid those who seek wisdom or waking dreams within its sheltering branches.

But he knows the Red Crow is coming. He knows their most ancient enemy is coming to claim the Bitching Tree as its own, with a winged army big enough to blot out the sky. That is why he is here now, in this body. He must find the two-in-one who will teach him to fight. Not just as a crow, but as a man, before all he knows is lost to war and death.

But as terrifying as this knowledge is, he is exhausted. He lets himself fade into sleep, gently, bit by bit, until he makes himself dream of interlaced branches and the smell of warm feathers. But that soon changes and fades as the sacred tree vanishes from beneath him, from around him. Then he is gliding silently down into the unknowable darkness, with only the cold, wailing wind beneath his wings.

About the Author

Hello, there! My name is Scott Hungerford, and I’ve worked as a professional game designer and storyteller over the last twenty+ years of my career.  While by day I currently work as a virtual reality game designer on game apps for medical therapy and training, by night I’m an urban fantasy novelist, an improvisational piano player, and a board and card game designer who just likes to build neat stuff for other folks to enjoy.

Beyond writing tons of short stories, novellas, novels, and all manner of game-related stuff, I’ve worked as a professional game designer and storyteller for the twenty-five+ years I’ve worked in the game industry, even running story for brands like Magic: the Gathering and Mage Knight. Through the course of my career I’ve worked on more than thirty published computer game titles, written for more than fifty board/card/RPG products, and have touched the lives of more than ten million people with my creativity!

While I’ve been publishing books since 2013, the first few fantasy novels I launched on Amazon are pulled down for the moment, as I want to do some rewrites and let my new book editor take a crack at them. But back in the day The Fire Cage landed #1 in Amazon’s YA Steampunk category, Goblin Girl landed #3 in Amazon’s YA Fairy Tales, and Wish landed in Amazon’s Top 20 Sword and Sorcery. With the recent success of Crossroads in August 2018, hitting #2 on Amazon’s Urban Fantasy lists, I’m really looking forward to seeing how my current series is going to play out over the next twelve months!

Care to follow?

You can follow me on Facebook on my author page at @ScottHungerfordAuthor, or use the following link to jump directly to my page: https://bit.ly/2DaOITm

I accept invites to my author page all the time – but know because of Facebook’s policy, I don’t mix my personal page and my business page at all. So, if you want to see information about my books, sign up on my author page, as I rarely post anything about the books on my personal page to make sure Facebook doesn’t get cranky with me!

Also, if you want to know a little more about who I am professionally, or read the occasional essays I post, you can also check out my full presence on LinkedIn at: https://www.linkedin.com/in/scotthungerford/

 

 

Over the Fence

Presents : Cover Re-Reveal
 
Over the Fence
by Melanie Moreland
 
AMAZON
Available on Kindle Unlimited!
 
Genre: Contemporary Romance
 
GOODREADS
Two neighbors — strangers — with one thing in common — they share a fence.
 
But is that the only thing they share?
 
Nathan Fraser lives a solitary life, never letting anyone get too close. It’s safer that way.
 
Kourtney Whyte hides from the world and behind her work, too afraid to really live her life to the fullest. Rejection is what she knows best.
 
But one night, the sound of her soft voice and the tantalizing aroma of her evening meal, prove too enticing for Nathan to ignore.
 
So begins their unconventional relationship — talking, learning, texting, and gradually opening up to one another, all over the fence.
 
That is, until the day Nathan braves the high fence to protect Kourtney from her past, and chances everything forever.
 
Can they move forward together, without the buffer of the fence?
 
Or will their pasts prove to be too much of a barrier?
 
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Girl with a Dream

Title: Girl with a Dream
Author: L.L. Hunter 
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Cover Designer: KILA Designs
Publication Date: Feb. 28th, 2019
Hosted by: Lady Amber’s PR
Blurb:
My life changed the day I arrived in Hollywood.
I knew it would as soon as I stepped off the bus.
My name is Kate Brooks and this is my story.
Experience is what makes a person…
Ever since Kate Brooks was a little girl, she’d only had one dream: to become an actress.
There are a few things that had always prevented her from fulfilling that dream.
When a series of events lead to her running away from her small town life to Hollywood, she knows this is her chance to have the life she has always wanted.
But Hollywood isn’t all roses and champagne like Kate imagined.
It’s smoke and mirrors, plastic surgery and rumors, a world full of shattered dreams and disillusions.
For a while Kate struggles to fit in and find herself in her crazy new world.
Until she meets the people who will change her life for the better; her confident roommate, Bree, and the sexy, broody writer Damian.
Soon her dreams turn into the reality she’d always wished for, with only a few speedbumps along the way.
From the author who brought you Woman in the Photograph and First Glance. Girl with a Dream is the emotional third book in the Written in the Stars series.
Coming soon to Kindle and Kindle Unlimited!
L.L. Hunter is the author of over 20 published works, including The Legend of the Archangel Series and The Garden of Eden. She has studied everything from veterinary nursing, forensic science, and dramatic arts, but has always known her true calling was to be an author. 

She has been writing since her teens – everything from fan fiction, to song lyrics, to plays and musicals. When not working on her next paranormal romance, she can be found at home in Australia, reading somewhere comfortable with one or both of her “fur babies.” Follow her on Facebook, Twitter @llhunterbooks, and her blog – http://llhunter.blogspot.com.au.

Buy Links:
Woman in the Photograph
Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07D8FPRJ6
Amazon UK:  http://amzn.eu/8apkTVe
Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B07D8FPRJ6
Amazon CA: http://a.co/d1V543H
iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/do/book/woman-in-the-photograph/id1318523946?l=en&mt=11
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/au/en/ebook/woman-in-the-photograph-1
Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-woman-in-the-photograph-ll-hunter/1128298270?ean=2940154634684

Man Amongst the Stars:

Shades of Fury

Title: Shades of Fury
Author: Heather Renee
Genre: Upper YA Paranormal Romance – Wolf Shifters
Narrator: Kasi Hollowell
Audio Producer: The Audio Flow, LLC
Blurb:
Taya’s just been named alpha-in-training. First order of business: avenging her twin brother’s death.
When Cord connected a rival pack to the disappearances of humans, he paid the ultimate price. Now it’s up to Taya to pick up where he left off and find justice for those who have been harmed.
As she closes in on her brother’s murderer, the threats only escalate. He wasn’t the only target, and now everyone she loves is in danger, further fueling Taya’s need for revenge.
With the help of an irresistible shifter named Liam, they set out in search of the only witch coven strong enough to set things right. Only Taya isn’t sure who to trust and if she doesn’t decide soon, she could lose not only her heart, but the people she loves most.
 
Audio Buy Link:
 

Heather Renee is a USA Today Bestselling author who lives in Oregon. She writes Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance novels with a mixture of adventure, humor, and sass. Her love of reading eventually led to her passion of writing and giving the gift of escapism.

When Heather’s not writing, she is spending time with her loving husband and beautiful daughter, going on their own adventures. She loves to hear from her fans, so visit her website and the Contact Me link for ways to connect. http://www.HeatherReneeAuthor.com

Author Links:
Audio Buy Link:
 
 

The Dirty Dozen – Princess Edition

˜*˜NEW RELEASE˜*˜

Blurb

12 Novellas  ~  12 Princesses  ~  12 Authors

What happens when 12 contemporary romance authors decide to put their own spin on classic Princess stories?

You get 12 uniquely different Princesses where they give as good as they get.

Every girl has a fairy tale princess slumbering within; they are waiting for their very own Prince Charming to awaken them.

Join this amazing line up of authors as they tell the tales of how their Princesses were awoken.

No matter the style or how naughty and nice, one of these tales will become your new vice.

 Let us take you on an adventure you won’t forget….

 

Buy Links

 

AMAZON US:

AMAZON UK:

AMAZON CA:

AMAZON AU:

 

 $120.00 Gift Card Giveaway

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About the Authors

 

Alicia Maree – Aroha and Tawhirimatea

Aroha is an Ice Queen. Her destiny, not a choice.

Her power to turn everything frozen, sees her locked in a room for years, for fear of harming her family or friends.

Tawhirimatea is Jack Frost. A man who comes to her rescue in many ways.

Grief, an aunt bent on revenge and a kingdom in crisis.

Can Aroha and Tawhirimatea bring peace to  their realm?

Alicia Peek – Wicked Kisses, Bitter Wishes

There are a few frogs that would love to be kissed by Tia’s lips, but her lips are filled with wickedness.

A bitter wish she made as a child has caused her heart to rot inside.

Mystified by the magic that binds, the darkness lurks in the shadows that cry.

Poisoning Tia’s fragile heart, the darkness’s cruel tricks set to tear her apart.

The man in her dreams could set her free, but is the darkness in her heart willing to bend a knee?

Can true love’s touch break the bitter wish and sail them into moonlight’s bliss

Ally Barnes and Debbie Ann – Poisoned Love

Five years ago, a naïve and young Neve White, fled Oxford with her tail between her legs. Humiliated by the man of her dreams, her soul and self-esteem shattered.

He stole everything from her. Her hopes, her dreams, even her career. Now she returns to where it all began, England.

An older, stronger, more successful version of herself. An acclaimed author ready to start a new chapter in her life.

Only one thing stands in her way, the man who broke her heart – Tristan Prince.

Tristan, suave, sophisticated and hotter than hell. A renowned New York Times and Wall Street Journal bestselling author and worldwide jerk.

Will Neve be able to forgive and forget as she travels through England on her first international book signing? Or will temptation ruin everything she has worked so hard for?

C. Renee – Belle and the Curse of the Rose

Belle’s passion was, and always had been, books. Nothing else really mattered.

Until she received a book so special, it changed the course of her life.

She discovered that not everything in her life was black and white after all.

The magical book opened her up to a world she had never imagined existed.

Prince Stefan and his brother, Henry – the natural heir to the throne, harbored a secret.

One which had the power to change the very future of the royal family as they knew it. Would their secret become known and what would be the consequences?

When Belle and Stefan meet at a palace ball, sparks fly.

They were destined to be together, but would one book and an ancient curse threaten to derail everything?

Will the past consume the future?

Or will true love conquer once and for all?

C.J. Welles – Annabella

Annabella lives in hell with her controlling stepfather and vile stepbrother.

Her life is far from being anything like a fairy tale and a world away from being desirable.

Then, she meets a mysterious man at a Halloween party. A man who is hiding a secret.

Annabella never imagined she would see the man again.

A man who evoked feelings she thought were long forgotten….

But fate had other ideas and her path soon becomes entwined with Elijah’s.

Her life takes an unexpected turn, emotions spiral out of control.

When everything settles, can Annabella rewrite her future?

Or, is a chance for a new life just castles in the air?

Gemma Arlington – Strictly Business

Being forced to live within the strict confines of royal life was never an easy burden for Pippa to bear.

As she grew older, she dreamed of the experiences that ordinary girls got to have.

What happens when she’s handed the opportunity of a six month vacation away from the rules and expectations?

She jumps headlong into the adventure of a lifetime, that’s what.

The chance to explore the wild fantasies that had been consuming her daydreams was more than she could resist.

I mean, what else was a girl to do? You’d do the same wouldn’t you?

 

Heather Guimond – Royal Failure

Princess Alora died two years ago, unbeknownst to the citizens of Aestia.

From her ashes came Lori Rose, a hard-core rocker who’ll never go home again.

Trapped in a world not of my making, where I was forced to play the pretty, perfect princess day in and day out while harboring rock and roll dreams with my best friend, Fleur.

When faced with a chance to escape, we took it and never looked back.

Now, our band, Royal Failure is about to embark on our first nationwide tour with a top ten band. I couldn’t be more thrilled–this won’t only poise us to launch to the top of the charts ourselves, but I get to be right alongside my personal crush, Flip Abernathy, the front man for Joystick. Sparks will fly, but not without igniting the malice of a pop princess.

Not only is my career at stake, but so is my life.

Kay Maree – Bear Illusion

Thorne

It was the sweet scent of Lilacs that drew me in but it was a simple touch that had me submitting to the brilliant blue mating bond that connected me to my Queen.

Our families have bad blood but nothing is strong enough to keep me away.

She is mine, my mate, my female, my Queen.

It was written in the stars long before we were born.

Ivy

Words on paper could never do justice to the man wading through the water, the scent of an unrestrained wildness floats around me making it hard to resist.

I try to fight it and pull back but how can you say no to something that deep down you know will change your fate forever.

I was his Destiny, he became my Fate…

Susan Horsnell, Kay Maree, Aleisha Maree

Luna Blue is a mermaid princess who has dreamt of the surface and humans above since she was a little girl. She knows her fate is somehow entwined with the other world.

Asher is a human prince, dissatisfied with his life and drawn to the peace of the ocean.

When Luna saves Asher from drowning, she realizes this is the man she is fated to be with.

But, how could she survive on the surface without legs?

And, how could he live underwater without being able to breathe?

Penny Blush – The Girl In The Tower

Rae

I have spent my life locked away. I am a prisoner in my own life. My crime, living. My sentence, life without the possibility of parole. Hight above the world in a tower in the middle of the forest is my prison. I am trapped here until the day I die, hoping that someone will save me.

Flick

I have spent my life on a less than straight and narrow path, but if I ever want to get out of this damn kingdom, I need to keep my nose clean. I took a job delivering packages to a recluse living in a tower in the middle of the forest. I thought it was some freak doomsday survivalist. It’s not. There’s a beautiful princess being held captive. Not everything is as it seems, but I do know one thing for sure…… I have to save her.

Susan Horsnell -Pocahontas and the Reluctant Brave

Atalia “Pocahontas” Sweetwater is a savvy lawyer.

She is determined to better the life of her people, particularly the women.

She is loyal to the Howlani Indian tribe and proud of her ancestry.

Her father is Chief, she is a Princess.

Justus ‘Whitecloud’ Rivers is also a talented lawyer.

He is a man who likes to defend white men over Indians.

A man bitter about his past and his half caste ancestry.

A man who wants nothing to do with the Howlani or any other Indian tribe.

Then, he encounters Pocahontas and the world as he knows it is turned upside down.

 

T.J. Spade – Crown of Thieves

Yasmine is a Djinn Princess living a luxurious life in New York City, but when something very precious is stolen from her, she can think of only one way to get it back.

Aiden Quinn is an ultra-sexy businessman with money to burn and a street-hardened past. Luckily for Yasmine, Quinn was also a teenage pickpocket who matured into a debonair conman and art thief.

Hiring a thief to catch a thief seems like an inspired idea until the situation becomes more dangerous than Yasmine could have predicted. With things heating up between her and Quinn, it may not just be her life on the line, it could very well be her heart. And, if Yasmine and Quinn can’t retrieve what was stolen in time, they risk unleashing a terrible power on the world.

Can a thief and a princess become partners in crime, or are they one rogue wish away from forever losing their chance at a happily ever after?

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