• About
  • Cardinal Desires
  • Gambler’s Choice
  • Gemini Rising by Bianca Swan
  • Gylded Wings
  • Her General in Gray
  • Life for Sale
  • Love For Sale
  • Morgan Gabriel D’Arcy
  • Sinners’ Obsession
  • Sinners’ Opera
  • The Night Before Doomsday

Linda Nightingale

~ Award-winning Author

Linda Nightingale

Monthly Archives: April 2021

Angelbound – Clockwork Igni by Christina Bauer

29 Thursday Apr 2021

Posted by Linda Nightingale in Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Angelbound-Clockwork Igni, Christina Bauer, Young Adult Urban Fantasy



This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Christina Bauer will be awarding an angel/demon necklace to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Long live the me! As Queen of Antrum, I rule an underground realm of demon hunters who love finding new caves. Hey, it’s boring down here; I’m glad they all have a hobby. Per usual, I try to act interested about their latest discovery, but all I hear is “blah blah blah new cavern blah blah blah Forbidden Tombs blah blah blah massive bronze pyramids blah blah blah creepy ticking sounds.” It’s a little odd, but I’m not worried.

My bad.

Suddenly, the Forbidden Tombs burst through the ground in my home realm of Purgatory. Bronze pyramids smash through abandoned buildings and highways, making rush hour a nightmare. Even worse, the metal structures attract tiny lightning bolts called igni, which are my very special supernatural buddies. Within minutes, every last igni gets stolen away.

Now. I’m. Pissed.

Whoever hides inside those pyramids? Time to dust off your mummies and shine up your sarcophagi. Because my husband, Lincoln, and I are breaking in and kicking ass.

Angelbound Origins
In which Myla Lewis kicks ass and takes names. Nuff said.

1. Angelbound
2. Scala
3. Acca
4. Thrax
5. The Dark Lands
6. The Brutal Time
7. Armageddon
8. Quasi Redux
9. Clockwork Igni
10. Lady Reaper


Read an Excerpt

I stand in a small square room. A heavy iron door looms before me. All around, the walls are lined with intricately-entwined gears and springs. Tiny pieces whirl and tick away at high speed. With each click and swipe, a tiny jolt of worry ricochets down my spine. Sweat beads on my palms.

I’m girl enough to admit it. This scene freaks me out.

No question why, either. This isn’t just any metal portal. It’s Pandora’s Door. As in, the girl didn’t keep a box of nasties. Nope. Instead, something awful lurks behind this very entrance. If I pull on the handle, that magical whatchamacallit gets free. Based on what I’ve learned, the mystery something-something could make everything right again. In other words, my igni would return. I’ll move souls once more. The Great Scala is back. How perfect.

Or I could release an unknown scourge that destroys all the after-realms. Definitely not as cool.

A memory appears. I picture Verus giving me a solemn warning: “No matter how tempting the door may appear, you must step back and walk away.”

It’s logical enough advice. Plus, Verus is an oracle angel. In my experience, she’s right most of the time. Perhaps I should give up. Go home. Play with my kid. Smooch my hottie husband. Get a mocha.

That lasts all of five seconds.

Screw it. I’m going in.

I grasp the handle and pull.

About the Author:
Christina Bauer thinks that fantasy books are like bacon: they just make life better. All of which is why she writes romance novels that feature demons, dragons, wizards, witches, elves, elementals, and a bunch of random stuff that she brainstorms while riding the Boston T. Oh, and she includes lots of humor and kick-ass chicks, too. Christina lives in Newton, MA with her husband, son, and semi-insane golden retriever, Ruby.

Website: http://www.BauersBooks.com

Blog: http://monsterhousebooks.com/blog/category/christina
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorBauer/
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/CB_Bauer
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/christina_cb_bauer/
LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/cb-bauer-481b12139/
Web site: http://monsterhousebooks.com/authors/cbauer

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The Most Eligible Viscount in London by Ella Quinn

26 Monday Apr 2021

Posted by Linda Nightingale in Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

author giveaways, book series, Ella Quinn, Goddess Fish Promotions, rafflecopter giveaways, Regency romance, The Most Eligible Viscount in London, virtual book tours



This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Ella Quinn will award a $25 Amazon/iTunes GC to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

In bestselling author Ella Quinn’s intriguing new Regency trilogy, a dashing suitor must decide if love and marriage are mutually exclusive . . .

Viscount Gavin Turley is convinced that love matches cause nothing but trouble. Still, after months of courting, he’s fallen for Miss Georgie Featherton. He’s passionate about her, in fact. But words of love are not an indulgence he will allow himself. When he presents Georgie with his marriage proposal, he will lead with his head—not his heart. His qualifications as a husband are excellent, after all. What could go wrong?

No sooner does Gavin kneel on one knee than Georgie’s heart goes aflutter with joy. Finally, the proposal she longed for had arrived. Yet Gavin seemed to be listing his credentials for a business partnership, not a romantic union. Without a declaration of love, Georgie can only reject his offer—unless the ladies of the ton, and Georgie’s grandmamma, have anything to do with it. For sometimes it takes a wiser eye to see the love behind a guarded heart—and a clever scheme to bring it out of hiding . . .

Read an Excerpt

A light tap sounded on the door to Georgie’s parlor. Smith opened it and stood aside as Adeline swept into the room.

“I did not think you would be resting.” She sounded pleased to have been right. “How are you doing?”

Georgie shrugged. “I wish I knew.”

“I can tell you that he does want very much to marry you.” Georgie pulled a face. “Yet he is still haunted by his father.”

In an attempt to help, Littleton had told Adeline who in turn told Georgie about the mess the former Lord Turley had made of everything after his wife had died. “I understand why he thinks he should not love his wife, but I do not understand how one can stop oneself from falling in love.” And that was the essence of the matter. Georgie firmly believed that love was the thing that held two people together during difficult times. She began pacing the room again, changing directions so as not to wear a path in the rug. “Do I give him another chance? Or would I be wasting my time? If he is so certain he will not love his wife, I do not see what I can do to change his mind.”

Adeline’s forehead creased in thought. “Allowing him until the end of the month to convince you would still give you time to go back to Town before the Season ends, and it would answer your questions.”

“I suppose you are correct.” Georgie stopped pacing. Why was this so hard? She closed her eyes and reached deep into her heart. There was a chance that there might be another gentleman out there who was even more perfect for her than Lord Turley only because this unknown gentleman loved her. But until she knew for certain that Turley would never love her, she would give him an opportunity to prove himself. “I shall give him one more chance.”

“I need to tell you one more bit of information.” This time her friend had a wicked grin on her face. “Your grandmother and her friend the duchess arrive tomorrow. They are staying with Mama-in-law.”

“And Turley.” Georgie felt her eyes widen. “Oh my. That will be interesting. What I would not give to hear what they have to say to him.”

“That is exactly what I thought,” her friend agreed. “Frits has suggested that he be allowed to come here as often as he wishes in order to court you. Do you have any objections?”

Georgie began pacing again. For some reason, she could not remain still. Littlewood really was the perfect place for a courtship. Other than the house party entertainments, they could spend time out of the eyes of the ton. It would give her—them—both the opportunity to attempt to resolve the differences in what they each wanted in a marriage. “No.” She wondered what role her grandmother and the duchess would play. “No. I have no objections.” Having a course of action would, at the very least, help her shake off the malaise she had been experiencing. “In fact, I believe I am looking forward to seeing how he intends to convince me I should enter into a loveless marriage.”

About the Author:
USA Today bestselling author Ella Quinn’s studies and other jobs have always been on the serious side. Reading historical romances, especially Regencies, were her escape. Eventually her love of historical novels led her to start writing them.

She is married to her wonderful husband of over thirty years. They have a son and two beautiful granddaughters, and a Great Dane. After living in the South Pacific, Central America, North Africa, England and Europe, she and her husband decided to make their dreams come true and are now living on a sailboat. After cruising the Caribbean and North America, she completed a transatlantic crossing from St. Martin to Southern Europe. She’s currently living in Germany, happily writing while her husband is back at work, recovering from retirement.

Ella loves when readers connect with her.

Website: https://www.ellaquinnauthor.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/EllaQuinnAuthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/ellaquinnauthor
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7044274.Ella_Quinn
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/ella-quinn
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Ella-Quinn/e/B00CAE0FSQ

Buy Links:

Amazon: https://geni.us/AzbRgd
Apple Books: https://apple.co/2PHZZEB
Kobo: https://bit.ly/3sD40si
Nook: https://bit.ly/3sDrldr
Google Play: https://bit.ly/3sDr2PP
Print: https://amzn.to/31t8qpU
BookBub: https://bit.ly/3fsGdb4
Goodreads: https://apple.co/2QFZyLh

Audiobook narrated by Rachael Beresford

Audible: https://adbl.co/3sCVQA6
Amazon Audio: https://amzn.to/3szTt1e
iTunes: https://apple.co/2QFZyLh

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Is it the Beginning?

23 Friday Apr 2021

Posted by Linda Nightingale in Uncategorized

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Pink Fuzzy Slippers Authors

Is this an interesting enough beginning to a book to make you want to read more? I’d seriously like your input because I’m about to submit this book for consideration and am wondering (as I always do) if I’m starting at the right point in the story,,. From Royal Secrets or I might title it simply Forbidden. Which one?

As I spun Ingrid into the final turn of the waltz, I was thinking of the new American Embassy we’d finally won for my country. This morning, I was on the King’s righthand when he signed documents finalizing the long negotiations. I knew how much this meant to him because I am Crown Prince and Heir Apparent to the throne of Desjardins, a province-state in southern Europe, captured between the mountains and the sea. This embassy would create more financial strength and give us a stronger voice in world politics. My…

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Realm of Dragons: Fight for the Crown by L.C. Conn

19 Monday Apr 2021

Posted by Linda Nightingale in Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

author giveaways, dragons, fantasy, gift card giveaways, L.C. Conn, rafflecopter giveaways, Realm of Dragons, Realm of Dragons: Fight for the Crown, virtual book tours



This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. L.C. Conn will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

The Realm of Dragons is in peril from hidden plots and conspirators, which threaten not only the crown, but the dragons that are at the very heart of it.

Teagan Loinsigh, long ago banished from her magical home of dragons now lives on Earth. Her dreams and memories of the great creatures are put down to fantasies and an overactive imagination, until one day she comes across a creature so unlike any other in the land she lives in. A baby dragon.

Muniath Magaoidh, a Dragon Warden fallen so low by a failed mission, must be brought back from his despair to retrieve what is lost.

Scetis Mordha, alone in the world since he was a child. Finds himself in the middle of intrigue and conspiracy against The Realm of Dragons.

Tying them all together is a dragon. Not just a dragon but The King of Dragons.

Can these four save The Realm of Dragons?

Read an Excerpt

“I don’t understand, what do you want to do?” she asked, collapsing to the hot rock.

“Stand before the fiery pit. Face your fear and grow into who you were meant to be.” His voice boomed not only in her mind but echoed off the circular cavern.

“I’ll die,” she whimpered.

“No, you will not. Now stand,” he commanded.

Slowly she got to her feet. Sweat dripped from her body in rivulets, stinging her eyes as she wiped her face on her sleeve to clear it. As she did, Gremlin moved and the full heat from the lava hit her. She stumbled back, but he supported her with his neck, holding her up. The fiery liquid turned her skin first red, then it started to blister. Teagan screamed at the pain and with fumbling fingers began to tear at the remaining clothes she had on. Now standing nude, her body shook as the outer skin burned away. It melted from her body, slipping, and exposing raw flesh underneath. A scream she so desperately wanted to release caught in her throat.

“Into the lake.” Gremlin commanded.

Each step she took was laboured. She tried to stop herself but found her body would not respond. Her mind screamed at the thought of the agony and death that she was sure awaited if she obeyed the Dragon King. But she went. Standing on the precipice, in a gap of the wall, the scream at last escaped her lips as she stepped down into the rock from the centre of the world.

About the Author:
L.C. Conn grew up on the outskirts of Upper Hutt, New Zealand. Her backyard encompassed the surrounding farmland, river, hills and mountains which she wandered with her brothers and fed her imagination. After discovering a love for writing in English class at the age of eight, she continued to write in secret. It was not until much later in life that L.C. turned what she thought was a hobby and something fun to do, into her first completed novel. Now married, L.C. moved from New Zealand to Perth, Western Australia, and became a stay at home mum. While caring for her family and after battling breast cancer, a story was born from the kernel of a dream. The first book of The One True Child Series was begun, and just kept blooming into seven completed stories, which have garnered great reviews. She continues her career with more stories waiting in the wings to be released.

EMAIL: raindropc1970@gmail.com
FACEBOOK: http://www.facebook.com/LCConn
TWITTER: https://twitter.com/ConnLoraine
INSTAGRAM: https//www.instagram.com/l.c.conn
WEB PAGE: https//lcconnwriter.wordpress.com/
GOODREADS: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17714374.L_C_Conn

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Tiger Stripes by Hannah Renae

14 Wednesday Apr 2021

Posted by Linda Nightingale in Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

author giveaway, Hannah Renae, memoir, Rafflecopter giveaway, Tiger Stripes



This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Hannah Renae will be awarding a $100 Amazon GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Four psychiatric wards

Three rehabs

Two jail cells

And a suicide attempt…

Hannah was told she would not make it to 25 with the way she was living. She had struggled with mental illness her entire life, but at 22 her demons came to a head at the grips of severe substance abuse, life-changing trauma, and two major deaths in her life.

Hannah’s struggles land her places no one ever hopes to grace; jail and psych wards lead her to the brink of death. Running out of options she’s left with two choices: live or die. This heart-wrenching memoir combines recovery with bittersweet romance told in a raw presentation that immerses the reader into the author’s dark state-of-mind in every page.

Tiger Stripes is going to add a valuable voice to the conversation about women’s mental health issues.


Read an Excerpt

THE LETTER H

October 7, 2019

“HENRY! HENRY! HENNN-RYYYY!!!!”

I am screaming at the top of my lungs and can feel my throat tearing, becoming raw. I don’t know how many times I have said his name now, but it is all I know how to do because nothing is making any sense.

I am in a locked room and flashes of images are going through my head, but there is only one thing, one thought that I can focus on, that is pounding through my brain throughout this confusion and that is pouring out of my lungs to the point that my chest feels like it is going to rip.

“HENRY!” I choke on his name and a sob.

He cannot hear me, and he is not coming. He doesn’t know where I am and I don’t know where I am, but I know I am not supposed to be here—and I have to get out.

I beat at the metal door that barricades me from something unknown and choke on words that begin with H.

“HENRY!”

“HELP!”

“HENRY!”

“HELP!”

I repeat these words for what feels like a lifetime, until I forget how to speak and my begging turns to carnal screaming—shrieking.

No one comes. No one answers. I wait for footsteps, for the sound of the door unlocking, but all I can hear is the sound of my frantic breaths and the echoes of a lamentation that is anything but human.

I look down at my body. My feet are bare against the concrete floor; I cannot feel them. The jean shorts I am wearing show off my slender, scratched legs and remind me that I am small and feeble at this moment, but in an act of desperation, I put all of my faith in the power of momentum and I run. I fucking run as fast as I can from the three paces it takes to get from the wall to the ominous looming, locked door and attack it with my entire being, letting out my most vicious battle cry as I fumble towards it.

The door wins.

I try again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

I am degraded to a crumbling, bruised ball of flesh.

I can barely speak, my throat reduced to sandpaper.

Everything hurts and I can taste the bitterness of blood in my mouth. The floor is like ice against my bare legs. Through the tears in my eyes I see the moon shining through a window at the top of the room. It is full and brilliant and illuminates the white of the brick walls that surround me. I realize that there is writing on them. People have been here before me. People will be here after me. Why am I here though? I should not be.

I should be home, where I belong. In bed, with him. Safe. I feel anything but that word in this moment, as terror sweeps through every single one of my nerves.

I whisper in one last futile attempt:

“Henry?”

But there is silence. Horrible, deafening, fatal silence.

And it seems to last forever, until I hear it, or think I do. A click, the door unlocking, and the small room is suddenly filled with light. Fluorescence suffocates me.

When I dare to open my eyes, they do not find Henry. Instead I find a police officer looking back at me. He wears broad, black framed glasses that are too big for his face and he looks eerily familiar. A sudden memory of lying in a hospital bed comes to me but does not fully resonate. His face is forlorn and almost disappointed, as if he expected more out of me.

“I thought you were going to hurt yourself,” he tells me. “Promise you’ll stay calm and you can come out for a bit. We’ve got to get you fingerprinted.”

It’s then that I have the shattering realization that I am drunk and in a holding cell at a police station. The reason why escapes me though, as I try to grab onto flashes of sober memories but drown in my current state-of-mind.

I try to breathe with intent as I remember every single arrest-cliché in the book, and I cling to the fact that I am going to get my phone call. They will probably let me go—they have to. If anything, they will make me stay the night at the most.

I remember the silent promise I had once made myself—that the moment I got a DUI that I would put down the bottle for good. Jail was the worst it could get. It had been my crowning achievement at my last three rehabs that I had never graced the inside of a jail cell and I never planned to.

“Continue down the path you have been,” one of the staff members at my second treatment center had told me after sharing her own story about prison, “and jail is a guarantee.”

And here I am. Her words have come to pass, as promised.

I then remember what else she told me as we talked over a pack of Marlboro Reds on a warm Orange County night.

“Finish the 90 days,” she had said, “Or you will not make it and there will come a day where you will no longer be able to cry out ‘I’m a good person!’. You will lie. You will steal. You will become someone and something else. You will hurt everyone you love. You will lose everything, and just when you think you have lost it all, you will lose something else.”

About the Author:
If there is anything Hannah believes in, it’s hope, but that wasn’t always the case. For a long time, chaos was comfortable for Hannah, but at just 22 she would have to make her hardest decision yet: was life really worth living? Since picking up a pen Hannah has had a love for writing, and as an adult it would become her greatest tool in healing from an almost decade-long battle with severe mental illness and substance abuse. Her first book, Tiger Stripes, is a harrowing, raw telling of her year in and out of hospitals, treatment centers, and jail that finally led her on the road to recovery and freedom.

Hannah was born in Orange County, CA but has lived in the Los Angeles area for several years. She now lives in West L.A. with her boyfriend. When she is not writing she can be found reading, running, cooking, or finding the best vegan eats in L.A.!

Website – http://hannahrenaeauthor.com/
Twitter – https://twitter.com/byhannahrenae
Instagram – https://www.instagram.com/hannahrenae/
Pinterest – https://www.pinterest.com/hurnpublications/tiger-stripes/
Book Landing Page – https://hurnpublications.com/tiger-stripes/

Buy Links:

Amazon – https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08WM2S9Y2/ref=as_li_tl
BN – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/tiger-stripes-hannah-renae/1138814034?ean=9781736450901
Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/tiger-stripes
Apple Books – https://books.apple.com/us/book/tiger-stripes/id1553383519
TBD – https://www.bookdepository.com/Tiger-Stripes-Hannah-Renae/9781736450901
Indigo – https://www.chapters.indigo.ca/en-ca/books/tiger-stripes-a-memoir/9781736450918-item.html

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St. Michael’s Mount

09 Friday Apr 2021

Posted by Linda Nightingale in Uncategorized

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Pink Fuzzy Slippers Authors

St. Michael’s Mount is a tidal island in Mount’s Bay in Cornwall, U.K. I was lucky enough to visit the Karrak Loos yn Koos,  Cornish for “hoar rock in woodland”, on my honeymoon back before recorded time. Seriously, it was last century. I immediately fell in love with this small island accessible only by a manmade causeway, passable only between mid-tide and low tide. This causeway is made of granite setts. Two types of granite can be found on the Mount.  These are a tourmaline muscovite and a biotite muscovite. I’m not a geologist. Wiki, my friends. The island is a civil parish and linked by the causeway to the town of Marazion.

While the National Trust now guarantees the preservation and conservation of theMount, theStAubyn family continue to live on and manage the island, as they have done since the middle of the 17th century.

St Aubyn Estates…

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Forging Monsters by Annie James

02 Friday Apr 2021

Posted by Linda Nightingale in Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Today we’re in for a real treat.  As her guest post, Annie has shared her short story Brooklyn Rose.  I’m posting a portion of the story today and will post the remainder tomorrow, so be sure to check back and see how Rose’s and Henry’s story ends!!

Brooklyn Rose

 The Past

The year was 1959. Sixteen-year-old Henry Walsh walked into the crowded gymnasium holding the manicured hand of his date, Erica Astor. He pasted on a bright smile and did his best to look like he was having fun. Erica smiled back at him, showing that he had fooled her. Henry took a small flask out of the pocket of his blazer. Erica frowned at him.

“I wish you wouldn’t drink,” she said, her tone icy.

Henry shrugged. “I’ll take my fun while I can get it,” He thought. “By this time next year, I will be enrolled in NYU business school and embark on the life my father chose for me. Which includes you,”

He glanced at the beautiful blond Erica at his side. Her hair was platinum blond, and she had light blue eyes, giving her an icy, untouchable appearance. Erica reminded Henry of an expensive vase, made to be admired but brittle and uninviting to touch.

She batted her long eyelashes at him. Henry let none of his thoughts show on his face, only allowing Erica to see the aloof aristocrat that she wanted to see.

 “My father has arranged my entire life for me, even choosing my future wife. I don’t love Erica, but my father has assured me that I will grow to love her.”

“Henry, you made it!” A voice called his name. He looked around to see his friend Charles approaching. Henry gave him a friendly slap on the back. Charles attended the same private school, and they both had the emblem of the school embroidered on each of their blazers. “This is my date, Erica Astor,” Henry said.

“Charmed,” Erica said, gripping Charles’s hand with her fingertips.

“Nice to meet you, Erica. This is my date, Rosanna.”

Henry’s false smile faded. Beautiful was too weak of a word for her.

Ethereal.

But strong. Rose’s eyes were green, like the ocean. Her high cheekbones and sculpted face gave her an exotic appearance. Henry had always thought Erica was beautiful, but suddenly she faded to spun sugar’s insignificance, lovely in form but with no substance.

“Nice to meet you, Rosanna,” Henry said, his voice roughened by the lump in his throat. He brought her offered hand to his lips and kissed it. Rosanna smiled and blushed prettily. It seemed to Henry like time had slowed down, and it was just the two of them in the world.

“Well, it was nice seeing you, Henry,” Charles said with an edge to his tone. “The music is starting.” Charles wrapped Rosanna’s arm in his possessively and turned to walk away.

“Save me a dance, dear Rose,” Henry called, ignoring Erica’s outraged gasp. Rose turned to look back at him with eyes sparkling and graced him with a dimpled grin that made Henry’s heart soar.

She nodded, and then she and Charles vanished into the crowd of dancers.

Later, after a few dances with Erica, Henry found the other couple and cut in just as the band was beginning to play the song ‘Mack the Knife’ by Bobby Darin. As Henry led her through the swing steps, he was pleased to see that she was a skilled dancer. Rose was close to his height, so they were well matched. Erica was several inches shorter than him, so it wasn’t as fun to dance with her. Henry and Rose danced several more dances before they were breathless.

“That was so much fun,” Henry said. “Are you ready for a break and some punch?”

“Yes. I had fun, though; you are a wonderful dancer, Henry.”

Henry admired how her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled. Her red hair was cut short in a trendy bob that had swirled around her head as they danced, glinting with the reflected lights in the ceiling.

“Your hair is gorgeous. Not every girl is good looking enough to wear it short, but it suits you,”

“Thank you,” Rose replied.

It seemed like the most natural action in the world for him to slip his arm around Rose, pulling her closer as they made their way to the refreshment table. Until he caught sight of his friend Charles, Erica, right beside him, they were watching him with eyes as hard as wet stones.

Later that night, Henry whispered in Rose’s ear, “I want to see you again. May I have your phone number?” Rose gave it to him.

The night of their first date, Henry stood in front of the mirror in his bathroom, taking extra care with his appearance. He added a little extra pomade to make his wavy blonde hair glossy. Henry hadn’t slept well the night before, and his blue eyes looked slightly bloodshot, so he put a couple of drops of Visine in each one.

Henry picked up Rose on his motorcycle, where they could both wear helmets and be unrecognizable. When Henry walked into his home after dropping Rose off after their second date, his father Phillip was sitting on the couch waiting for him.

[TO BE COTNIED TOMORROW, APRIL 3rd]

~*~

Book #2 of The Tales of OriGen series

Description:

A modern and beautiful Frankenstein’s Monster fights for the right to carve her destiny in New York City’s human world.

 A talented young dancer tired of witnessing violent crimes against women go unpunished and takes matters into her own hands.

 A young woman tries to escape her past in New York’s anonymity but finds out that she cannot escape the scars on her soul, which drives her to shocking acts of violence.

Excerpt from Forging Monsters

“Sometimes human places create inhuman monsters.”

–Stephen King, The Shining

The path through the park wound around to a footbridge spanning a little pond. She stopped to gaze into the water; the lilacs were in full bloom, and they perfumed the air. A light breeze created small ripples on the water, which had a green shade, but it was not scummy. A tiny frog let out a surprised ribbet and splashed into the water, causing Zee to smile.

She recalled how she never saw frogs, grass, or trees as a child–suddenly, her memory returned to OriGen Research Facility. In her mind, Zee again saw the room that had been her prison for most of her early life. She mentally shook herself, pushing those memories away.

That is in the past, and I’m free now, she reminded herself. She leaned her head back and savored the wind on her face. Not entirely free, though, she thought.

She turned away from the pond and continued along the path. She heard pounding footsteps approaching rapidly from behind. She hadn’t realized she was being followed. Before she could fully react, a muscular arm was locked around her throat and dragged under the bridge. The shoes fell from her fingers as she grabbed the arm around her neck, struggling to get free.

He threw her down at the edge of the pond, the impact knocking her breath from her lungs. She was partially in the water, and it seeped into her dress while sharp, cold rocks cut her back.  She could see his face and recognized him as the guy from outside the club. He used his shoulders and his body weight to pin her legs against her body as he unzipped his pants.

“NO! Please don’t do this!” She struggled, but he just laughed, spewing beer-laden breath in her face. Under the alcohol smell on his breath was another, more elusive scent: a mixture of salt, metal, and rotting vegetables; it made her nauseous and angry.

“Get off me!”

He slapped her.

Her lip split, and she tasted blood.

“Shut up bitch!”

He continued to try raping her as she struggled. Her pulse quickened with rage. He didn’t stop.

 Enough, she thought–becoming eerily calm. He thought she had given up. He laughed again.

She bared her teeth. “My name isn’t bitch. It’s Ze’Eva.”

She flung him off quickly, flipped him on his back, and slammed him to the ground. He lay there for a couple of seconds, shocked at the sudden turn-off events. He jumped up and reached to grab her again, thinking she just got lucky in throwing him off. He froze as he saw her teeth elongate into fangs, and her eyes turn from green to amber.

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About Author

I am a mom, cat mom, grandma, wife, writer, coffee drinker.

I currently live in Kentucky with my husband and two fun-loving cats who inspired Dirtbag and Scumbucket’s feline characters. (Those are just nicknames, we do love them!)

Write what you know! I was born and raised in Upstate New York, so that area and New York City are the settings for most of my stories.

I have an Administrative Assistant degree from Fingerlakes Community College in Upstate NY; I majored in writing and business administration.

I love cooking, especially Cajun food, and I’ve had several people tell me I should open a restaurant, but that is ton of work, and I would rather spend my time writing.

 

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