Wednesday, February 28, 2018
Tuesday, February 27, 2018
Dizzying Geometric Pies and Tarts by Lauren Ko
Lauren Ko brings mathematical precision to her baking, using elaborate intertwined patterns to form transfixing patterns to the top of her homemade pies and tarts. The Seattle-based amateur baker has been piecrafting for just a couple of years, she tells Mic, and if you’re wondering, this is her favorite pie crust recipe. Ko combines classic crusts with colorful fillings like blueberries, kumquats, purple sweet potatoes, and pluots to create her visually striking sweets. You can follow her on Instagram.
Monday, February 26, 2018
Please Welcome Laura Bickle as She Tells Us About Her Dark Fantasy, WITCH CREEK, The Wildlands Series, Book Two
Witch
Creek
The
Wildlands Series
Book
Two
by Laura
Bickle
Genre: Dark Fantasy
Publisher: Harper Voyager
Date of Publication: Feb. 27,
2018
ISBN: 978-0062567314
ASIN: B071VBHPW7
Number of pages: 384
Word Count: 88,160
Book Description:
In
the backcountry of Yellowstone, evil moves below the surface . . .
Following
Nine of Stars comes the next chapter in Laura Bickle's critically acclaimed
Wildlands series.
As the daughter of an alchemist,
Petra Dee has battled supernatural horrors and experienced astonishing wonders.
But there’s no magic on earth that can defeat her recent cancer diagnosis, or
help find her missing husband, Gabriel. Still, she would bet all her remaining
days that the answer to his disappearance lies in the dark subterranean world
beneath the Rutherford Ranch on the outskirts of Temperance, Wyoming.
Gabe is being held prisoner by
the sheriff and heir to the ranch, Owen Rutherford. Owen is determined to
harness the power of the Tree of Life—and he needs Gabe to reveal its magic.
Secretly, the sheriff has also made a pact to free a creature of the underground,
a flesh-devouring mermaid. Muirenn has vowed to exact vengeance on Gabe, who
helped imprison her, but first . . . she's hungry. Once freed, she will swim
into Yellowstone—to feed.
With her coyote sidekick Sig,
Petra must descend into the underworld to rescue Gabe before it's too late . .
. for both of them.
Excerpt:
Peering through
the cattails, she saw a man with a fishing pole, standing on an outcropping. He
seemed alone, caught in a bit of reverie, gazing at his line skipping along the
surface of the water.
She dipped below
the surface of the water, toward the shiver of the fishing line. With
green-spotted fingers, she lifted the struggling fish from the hook. The line
jerked away.
The man swore.
Muirenn lifted
her head above the water.
“Holy shit.” The
man stumbled backward. “I didn’t realize you were swimming there . . . I . . .”
His expression
changed from embarrassment to curiosity as he looked at her. The pupils of his
eyes dilated. “Who . . . are you?”
Muirenn gripped
the fish close to her chest, giving a small smile.
The fisherman
crouched on the rock, setting his pole beside him. “Wow. You’re uh . . . green?
Is that real?”
Muirenn cocked
her head and slipped forward a bit in the water. The edge of her tail skimmed
above the surface.
“Is that like .
. . one of those tails that the girls have at that park in Florida? For a movie
or something?” His suntanned brow wrinkled. “No. That’s real,” he decided.
“You, um . . . want the fish? You can have it.”
She was within
arm’s length of him. She released the squirming fish into the water.
“You wanted to
let it go? Look, I . . .”
The man talked
too much. She swam closer, tentatively.
The fisherman
looked at her, at her dappled skin and the dark rust hair spreading into the
water. She wouldn’t ordinarily have been so bold. The weight off her tail was
going to her head. She let him take in the black of her eyes, the gills on her
throat. He gazed in wonder, and his fingers twitched to a small square piece of
plastic on top of his tackle box.
“Can I take your
picture? What . . . are you?”
A smile played
across her lips, and she spoke to him in a silvery voice. “I’m the Mermaid.”
“Wow. I . . .
wow. I’m, uh, Norm. Do I, like, make a wish or something?”
“You can, if you
want. I’ll listen.”
She reached up
with delicate fingers to touch him. Her fingers brushed the pockets of his
fishing vest, playing with wonder over the bits and baubles there meant to lure
the attention of fish. The man forgot about his camera and stared, transfixed.
Muirenn reached
up for his collar . . .
. . . and
dragged him down into the water.
He splashed and
flailed. She brought him down—down to the bottom of the creek. It wasn’t so
far, but it was far enough for a land dweller. He couldn’t fight her for long.
He thrashed until his lungs grew heavy with creek water. He convulsed as the
lack of oxygen reached his heart and filtered up to his brain. And then he
stopped.
Muirenn grinned,
showing row upon row of shark-like teeth. She ripped off his arm and began to
chew. It had been so long since she’d had anything but the errant fish that
wandered into her realm . . . this was a meal worth waiting for.
The creek ran
red.
Red as the idle
red-and-white bobber drifting on the surface of the water.
The
Shadow Mermaid
By
Laura Bickle
There
are a lot of things that are special to me about WITCH CREEK. There’s my
protagonist, Petra, geologist and daughter of an alchemist, gradually losing
her hold on life. She’s shadowed by her coyote sidekick, Sig, who may or may
not be The Coyote of legend. And there’s Petra’s husband, Gabe, an undead
cowboy who haunts the alchemical Tree of Life. They live in Temperance,
Wyoming, a place that modern time has moved on from, but magic never will.
They
are all special. But the most exciting part of writing WITCH CREEK was the
chance to write about a mermaid.
You
see, I’m a little obsessed with mermaids. I have been, ever since I was a
little girl and got a Sea Wees doll for my birthday. She had brown hair like
mine and green scales. She was clutched in my sticky fingers twenty-four-seven,
from bathtime to bedtime. She climbed trees with me and lived under my pillow,
the safest place I could think of from the family dachshund, who adored gnawing
on her lustrous hair if he could find her.
That
memory of the mermaid stuck with me as an adult. I always wanted to write a
book about a mermaid. I’ve flirted with several ideas over the past several
years, but never struck on the right one. When I began WITCH CREEK, I needed a
supernatural adversary to oppose my geologist heroine.
And
Muirenn, the shadow mermaid, was hatched.
Muirenn
didn’t start out as a mermaid. She began life as a witch, more than a century
and a half ago. Like most mermaids, she has a spellbinding voice, and was said
to be able to sing a man to his death. She fell in with the alchemist who
founded the town of Temperance…and then they fell out, in a spectacular magical
battle. Muirenn lost, and she became the subject of her adversary’s alchemical
experiments. She was taken apart and sewn back together in the shape of a
mermaid, given a mouthful of sharp teeth and a taste for human flesh.
Muirenn
was imprisoned in an underground river since the time of her creation. But now,
she’s been freed, and no fisherman in the backcountry is safe from her
carnivorous wrath.
Muirenn
isn’t quite the smiling doll I treasured as a child. She’s a shadow version of
her – dark hair, green scales, and a desire for revenge against the man who
imprisoned her there…Petra’s husband, Gabe.
Since
I’ve got a soft spot for mermaids, I might be rooting for her. More than a
little bit.
About
the Author:
Laura Bickle grew up in rural
Ohio, reading entirely too many comic books out loud to her favorite Wonder
Woman doll. After graduating with an MA in Sociology – Criminology from Ohio
State University and an MLIS in Library Science from the University of
Wisconsin-Milwaukee, she patrolled the stacks at the public library and worked
with data systems in criminal justice. She now dreams up stories about the
monsters under the stairs, also writing contemporary fantasy novels under the
name Alayna Williams.
Her work has been included in the
ALA’s Amelia Bloomer Project 2013 reading list and the State Library of Ohio’s
Choose to Read Ohio reading list for 2015-2016.
Website: http://www.laurabickle.com/
Newsletter sign up: http://eepurl.com/cOxHJr
Twitter: http://twitter.com/Laura_Bickle
Instagram: http://instagram.com/laura.bickle/
Sunday, February 25, 2018
Saturday, February 24, 2018
Now Available in Print! LUCIEN, The D'Jacques Dynasty, Book 1
LUCIEN
The D'Jacques Dynasty, Book 1
Futuristic/Post-Apocalyptic Romance
Word Count: 64.5K
$3.99 e
As the youngest Battle Prince, Lucien D'Jacques
is discouraged because the affinities with
weapons that his siblings have shown aren’t showing up in him. Being
half-Mutah, that little something extra should be a given, but he’s
no better than the average Normal soldier.
Meanwhile, the
Damaged are back and slowly taking over. After receiving word that
neighboring compounds are suffering, Lucien
is tapped by his
parents, Yulen and Atty, the Battle Lord and Lady of Alta Novis, to
accompany them on a rescue mission to Green River.
Now would be a great time for those specialties to shine.
When fighting an invisible enemy, it’s almost impossible to tell who
is friend or foe. But if left unchecked, that enemy could wipe out
all Mutah. It’s up to the D’Jacques, with the help of their army and
newfound allies, to defeat the Bloods and stop the spread of the
maddening disease, before it’s too late.
Friday, February 23, 2018
Thursday, February 22, 2018
Wednesday, February 21, 2018
Tuesday, February 20, 2018
Please Welcome Tani Hanes as She Tells Us About Her Paranormal Romance, FARRAWAY MIST
Farraway Mist
by Tani Hanes
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Date of Publication: November 17, 2017
ISBN:1973331683
ASIN: B077LCFM6Z
Number of pages: 210
Word Count: 87,210
Tagline: Can she fall in love with a haunted man?
Book Description:
Scout Lawson is fleeing an unhappy past, and thinks she's run as far as she can from Yale University when she lands a job restoring a library in Cornwall, England for reclusive rock star George Wilder, who dropped out of sight after the death of his beautiful wife the year before.
As soon as she arrives at his estate, Farraway Mist, however, strange things start to happen. As the couple's feelings for each other grow, the events become more harrowing, until everything they hold dear is in peril.
Farraway Mist by Tani Hanes will
be on Sale for .99 throughout the tour!
Excerpt 2
It was a glorious
day for being outdoors. Scout was enchanted with her new clubs, and enchanting
as well. She exclaimed over how well balanced they were, and how well they
swung, their heft. And how shiny they were, and how pretty the color was.
George just smiled, pleased with how well received his gift was.
They played the
whole links, while the dogs bounced back and forth, rambling along the
different scents. In golf, at least, they were well-matched, and had a good
game, with Scout having the weaker but more accurate stroke.
The fog and mist
began to come up just as they reached the last few holes. "Maybe we should
stop," George suggested, looking around.
"Oh, come
on, this is all private, right?" Scout coaxed. "No one else is
around, there's no danger of anyone up ahead getting hit by a ball or
anything." She looked at him imploringly. "We can be quick, can't we?
It's just that I haven't played in so long."
"Okay, but
let's be very quick," George stressed, once again enticed by the lovely
sight of her hips as they twisted when she swung her club. "You've seen
how rapidly the mist can come up."
They played
through quickly, trying to see up ahead as the fog rose up the cliffs.
George tried to
explain the topography a little to help out, and Scout did okay, calling on her
memory from her previous walk along the links. They kept the dogs close to
avoid hitting one of them with an errant ball.
The fog finally
got thick enough to block out the sun, and Scout pulled on her sweater, which
had been tied around her slender waist.
"You
cold?" George asked. "We can head back if you like?" He stepped
close and rubbed her arm.
Scout shook her
head.
"This is
the last hole, right?" she asked. "Let's finish." George nodded
and stepped up to the tee.
They played
through, by which time their hair was wet from the mist and fog. They could
hear the waves, too, crashing into the rocks. They quickly shouldered their
clubs and began walking toward the house, which was shrouded in fog.
"Scout!
Slow down, please. Remember how slippery this bit here can be," George
entreated.
Scout nodded and
slowed her steps. After a minute or two, she stopped and looked around.
"Where's Jess?" she asked.
George, too,
looked. "Fuck it all, where's she gone off to now?" he asked,
irritated beyond all measure. For no reason he could fathom, he was uneasy. He
wanted to get back to the house, he wanted to get Scout back to the house. The
longer they stayed outside, the more nervous he felt.
"Keep
going, Scout, carefully, though. I'll call Jess and catch up in a mo,
okay?" he said.
Scout was going
to say she'd just wait with him, but she saw the look on his face and just
nodded, not wanting to worry him any more, and turned and kept walking. They
had to be pretty close to the house by now, anyway.
"Jess! Come
on, girl!" George called. Bandit, understanding that Jess' absence was
gumming up the works, promptly went to look for her. George knew that he'd find
her and bring her back right away, and that she'd probably be contrite and
embarrassed.
Jess was nothing
if not polite.
He turned to see
how far ahead Scout was, and stopped dead in his tracks. Oh god.
There was
something on the trail next to her, some amorphous shape, darker than the
surrounding fog. It was hovering about eight inches off the ground, hulking
over Scout, who didn't seem aware of its presence.
"Scout!"
Her name was torn from his mouth, a warning which she would never understand.
How could he convey what he needed from this distance with mere words? That she
needed to run, defend herself, be careful?
Scout turned
toward him, not understanding her danger, but hearing the terror in his voice.
As she turned, she slipped, dropping her clubs with a clatter. She grabbed for
the railing, which she knew she should've been holding all along.
She lost her
footing, reaching desperately for the iron fencing. She saw George drop his own
clubs, coming toward her at a dead run, Bandit appearing out of the fog behind
him like a wraith. There was no way he'd reach her in time.
The ground
beneath her feet began to crumble, and Scout knew that she was going to fall,
and probably die. It was at least a couple hundred feet down to the beach
below, and it wasn't a
soft, sandy beach, but rather a rocky, cove-like one, deep and beautiful for
taking photographs. The stairs were cut sharply into the cliffs, and she would
probably hit most of them on the way down.
Fuck.
There was a
brief moment when she thought she could save herself, when she managed to grab
the edge.
But then,
inexplicably, she felt something else, and it pushed her, pushed her body and
hands, peeling her fingers off and shoving her over the edge.
And suddenly,
just as she was sure she was going to fall, George was there, throwing himself into
the breech, literally throwing himself behind her somehow, grabbing her around
the waist, changing her trajectory, so she fell, not into the chasm underneath,
but onto a tiny ledge, a V-shaped opening between two rocks carved into the
stairs.
They both landed
with a hard thump, hitting the rock wall hard. Scout carried the momentum for
both of them, being so much lighter, and kept going, nearly over the edge.
George kept his hold around her waist, hauling her back just in time. He pulled
her close, his heart beating like a triphammer in his chest.
They looked at
each other, knowing how close their escape had been, both breathing like they'd
just run a marathon.
"Oh my god,
George, thank you," Scout gasped through chattering teeth. They looked
around at their tiny, wet surroundings.
Now what?
About the Author:
Tani Hanes was born in Yokosuka, Japan. She spent the first few years of her life traveling back and forth between Japan and the US, making the permanent move to the Central Valley of California when she was five. She visited family in Japan on a regular basis, and attended college in Tokyo for one year at ICU before getting her degree in Language Studies from UC Santa Cruz. She has two children, and was a substitute teacher for fifteen years. Hanes currently resides in New York City with her husband and cats, Moss and Lily.
Website: http://tanihanes.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/TaniHanes
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/tanihanes/
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/tanihanes/
Monday, February 19, 2018
Please Welcome Annabelle McInnes as She Tells Us About Her LGBTI Speculative Romances, TRUE REFUGE, FRACTURED REFUGE, and ETERNAL REFUGE
True Refuge
The Refuge Trilogy
Book One
by Annabelle McInnes
Genre: LGBTI Speculative Romance
Publisher: Escape Publishing
Imprint of Harlequin Australia
Date of Publication: 21st September 2017
ISBN: 9781489251015
ASIN: B073QGPDQ7
Number of pages: 250
Word Count: 65,000
Cover Artist: Escape Publishing
Book Description:
Book one in an emotional, erotic, dramatic trilogy about a world gone to hell, and the hell we hold inside…
The human race has been all but wiped out, along with our best traits: compassion, empathy, and generosity.
Euan is a survivor. In a dystopian wasteland infused with violence and cruelty, he protects something invaluable. His love for Nick and the solace that comes with the connection keeps him from destruction, and offers him that most elusive and dangerous emotion of all —
hope.
But happiness comes at a price and a hunting trip leaves Nick vulnerable to the evil that still infects the world. When Euan returns, he finds Nick broken and bloody, irrevocably damaged in both body and soul.
Now Euan’s only goal is to find a place for Nick to heal, a safe place, a refuge where they can rest, recover and repair their love. When they risk a raid on an abandoned house, they discover the unthinkable, the rarest treasure of all. A woman.
Chapter One
True Refuge
Euan waited, his
body held rigid in a state of hiatus. His muscles burned, quivering
involuntarily from remaining immobile for so long. The warm breeze rustled the
tussocks that surrounded him, and the seedpods tickled his ears as he crouched
among the native grasses. The morning sky above him was a vibrant blue, marred
only by sparse clouds that meandered across the unlimited expanse with little
concern for the struggle for survival that went on down below. Only his chest
moved as he took each slow inhalation of breath, his eyes remaining focused on
the net that stretched out in front of him.
There was a
movement to his right. A ripple in the stillness. The dry grass stirred and the
brittle stalks crackled in the silence. There was a patter, a lull, a dislodged
stone on the dry earth, and then all was quiet once again.
He dragged in a
breath and forced his broad shoulders to relax. Each fist was clasped around a
rusted tin can, their contents long gone, but the casing still served his
purpose. His large hands held the round metal objects easily, the alloy cool as
it pressed against his calloused skin.
His nose itched
but he ignored it. He narrowed his eyes as the sound to his right reoccurred.
This time, the rustling was prolonged, the animal gaining confidence in its
terrain. Just a few more minutes and then he could pounce.
He cursed when
there was a shout and a clattering of plastic. The creature to his right bolted
in the opposite direction to the snare, disappearing into its underground
shelter. Euan’s hunting partner Lenny had reacted early, scaring the animals
off before he was ready to act.
Sabotaging his
attempts to gather enough food for them to return to camp.
Again.
He had no choice
but to jump up from his prone position and beat the tin cans together. The
combined noise created by the empty plastic bottles and Euan’s cans frightened
the game they were trying to catch. A number of long-eared hares bounded before
him, headed towards the net they’d pulled against the boughs of two oak trees
and the pit they’d dug immediately before the mesh to ensure their bait would
be caught.
The two men
moved forward as one. Lenny was exuberant, his movements excessive and
unnecessary. Euan was resigned and his unease grew with every step, until two
rabbits were caught, clouds of dust rising like smoke in their wake.
Euan quickly
discarded his tins and knelt at the edge of the pit. It was an easy thing to
capture the frightened animals by the elongated ears and snap their delicate
necks. Two substantial hares were nothing to scorn, and these were especially
fat from the lack of human and domesticated animal encroachment. But it could
have been more. It should have been more.
Euan rose but
said nothing as he watched Lenny approach the pit. He couldn’t help curling his
lip at stink of old sweat that clung to filthy, threadbare clothing as he
reluctantly handed his prize over to the outstretched hand.
A shudder of
uneasiness was beginning to crawl up his spine. That was the third time his
effort to capture their prey had been foiled. That didn’t take even into
account that the day before Lenny had dragged his heels the entire journey,
keeping their pace deliberately leisurely, despite Euan’s attempt to get this
provisions trip over and done with as quickly as possible.
This last
attempt to undermine his hunting efforts was shining as brightly as a neon sign
in an apocalyptic-induced darkness.
Lenny had
thwarted him on purpose.
Euan watched
with growing trepidation as Lenny tied the rabbits to his backpack with
indifference. They were meant to be hunting to feed six people, themselves
included. Neither of them had eaten since yesterday. His reluctance made no
sense.
“I thought we
were waiting for my signal,’ Euan stated, watching with a keen eye for any
indication of ulterior motives.
Lenny blinked.
‘You didn’t make it?’
After a weighted
pause, Euan murmured ‘No.’
The lean man
shrugged, his gaze averted, before he re-shouldered his backpack, the dead
rabbits swinging from their colourful twine.
Euan pulled
himself up to his full height. It had been three years since the collapse of
mankind. Three years of fighting for survival, living off the land, trying to
escape the mayhem of what was left of civilisation. Since then, Euan had lived
his life attuned to his senses, the prickle on his nape and the lead ball that
rolled around in the pit of his stomach.
That lead ball
was now dissolving, morphing into mercury that was poisoning his insides.
Something was wrong, and he knew that the man in front of him, fiddling with
the frayed shoulder strap of his backpack with suddenly shaking fingers, was
the cause.
Question: What is it about this book/series that makes it
special?
Answer:
To every author, their books are special. They commit
months, sometimes years, towards crafting those words and massaging those
sentences until they are just right, or right enough to send to an editor. It
took me two years to write the Refuge Trilogy. That’s two hundred thousand
published words (many more that were cut and unpublished) and over eight
hundred pages that I painstakingly poured my heart and soul into.
These books don’t transcend romance, they are romance. I wanted to make a story that
was purely about love, about what people will do to keep those they love safe
in a world that threatens not just their lives, but also their very humanity.
My initial pretense was simple; what does a good man do when
all that’s left is decayed, destroyed or dead? I wanted to explore the reality
of what happened when men, good men, were left alone in a world full of depravity
and destruction after a plague had wiped out most of the human race, and almost
all of the women. I wanted to test what do those good men do when there are no
women left to love them, when there is no compassion from a feminine hand, and no
empathy that comes so naturally to the female of our species. But I also wanted
those men to find love, above all else. I wanted them to be happy and I wanted
them to be free.
But that makes for a boring book, and so my world that drew inspiration
from the the Walking Dead (without the zombies), and the movies The Road and
Mad Max Fury Road was designed. I created characters that made those notions of
safety and sanctuary almost impossible to achieve for my protagonists. I built
a world that hurt them and made them bleed. Then, I gave them a shard of light
in the darkness and allowed them to find refuge.
My writing journey had been a short one compared to many. My
stories are special because I want to give my readers more. More passion, more
pain, more love.
But why is this series special to the reader? You’ll have to
ask them to find out J
Fractured Refuge
The Refuge Trilogy
Book Two
Annabelle McInnes
Genre: LGBTI Speculative Romance
Publisher: Escape Publishing,
Harlequin Australia
Date of Publication: 12 November 2017
ISBN: 9781489251640
ASIN: B0746F6KJ6
Number of pages: 250
Word Count: 65,000
Cover Artist: Escape Publishing
Book Description:
They thought they’d found a refuge, but the battle for survival has only just begun...
Surrounded by the destruction of the human race, Euan, Nick, and Kira find solace in one another, making their underground bunker a haven and a home. Sheltered under layers of steel and cement, they should be safe, but danger isn’t always kept outside — sometimes the enemy is within.
When their electronic warning system detects intruders, Euan and Nick must investigate. Outside, they discover the true terror that is approaching, and Euan must make a terrible decision: stay or go. To stay is to watch the only people he loves perish under the weight of pure evil. To leave is to face his certain death to protect them and potentially save humankind.
Despite all his preparation, skills, and strength, Euan knows that each decision carries the risk that he could destroy them all.
The second book in the Refuge Trilogy.
Chapter One Fractured Refuge
The room was
filled with the pungent scent of fried eggs and coffee. The air was warm. The
climate-control system working at full capacity to eradicate the chill from an
encroaching winter. Dishes were stacked high, men’s socks were squashed in odd
corners and a pair of faded pink slippers lay discarded by an open doorway.
Euan lifted a
ceramic mug that was glazed with dandelions in colours of gold, green and blue.
He took a sip of the scorching beverage and ran his tongue over the burn to his
upper lip. The sting was good; the bitter taste of the brew was better.
His gaze
wandered. Steel beige walls were covered in artworks. Landscapes painted with
muted oils, portraits formulated in lead. Images that captured the essence of
life, the allure of the sky, the wonders of the spirit, the magic of dreams.
Most made by his reluctant hand.
A single
photograph was centred between the amateur drawings. Its position of
significance was no accident. Two children grinned at the camera. Their arms
were wrapped around each other’s shoulder. Smiles as bright as the sunshine
filtered through their blond hair and glinted off their identical blue eyes.
Two beautiful children, unaware of what their future would hold.
Two beautiful
children who were full of hope, full of dreams, full of love and life.
Two beautiful
children. One brother, one sister.
As adults, the
two children would witness the end of the civilised world.
The mahogany
chair groaned under Euan’s weight. The hardwood supported his spine as he leant
back against the dark timber and stretched his long legs under the coordinating
dining table. His bare foot knocked his companion’s. They shared a small smile
as their skin touched and a spark of fire raced through their nerve endings.
Nick bumped his eyebrows suggestively. Euan’s lips kicked up higher in
response.
The food that he
had just consumed nourished his body as effectively as the steel hull of the
underground bunker protected those he cherished. Surrounded by strength,
wrapped in love, the smile remained on his lips. It was kin to the grin that
was emulated by those two children. He relished a moment of untainted
satisfaction. A glorious bliss that bloomed in his sternum and radiated out
through his muscles and into his limbs, his fingers, his toes.
It was
beautiful. This was beautiful.
He sighed,
content.
Kira’s voice
broke the comfortable silence. ‘Is that coffee finished?’
His hand
remained aloft. He held his breath in his lungs. His gaze moved from Nick to
focus on the petite blonde woman who sat rigidly on the edge of her seat to his
left. The hum of the ventilation system became the only sound in the
underground room.
Across from him,
Nick reached out and grasped the handle of his mug. His features were tight
with trepidation. The muscles around his green eyes were firm as he lifted a
twin to Euan’s mug from where it rested innocuously in the middle of the
mahogany table. His shoulders were tense as he tilted his head to look inside.
His chin lifted
and met Kira’s gaze. ‘Yes?’
The amiable
atmosphere in the room plummeted. Euan let his breath ease out of his chest. He
took a cautious sip.
Kira pursed her
lips. A furrow deepened between her blonde brows. Her knee began to bounce with
the rhythm of exaggerated irritation. The collar of the pale yellow t-shirt she
wore was frayed, stretched, warped. Much like the building tension in the room.
Euan bit back a sigh.
Her question was
directed at Nick. ‘And you’re just going to leave it there?’
Nick’s nervous
swallow was audible. His gaze flickered between a growing adversary and an
inanimate object. He touched his tongue to his upper lip, raked his fingers
through his hair and stared at the lesser of the two threats. His frustration
increased, his irritability brewing beneath the surface. Nick’s predisposition
was to please, to entertain, to love. But every man had his kryptonite. Being
trapped underground, waiting for death’s scythe to slice his soul from his body
would cause even the greatest man to falter. Nick was no deity in that sense.
Neither was
Euan. They were simply two men, two men desperate to please a woman deteriorating
before their eyes.
Eternal Refuge
The Refuge Trilogy
Book Three
Annabelle McInnes
Genre: LGBTI Speculative Romance
Publisher: Escape Publishing,
Harlequin Australia
Date of Publication: 12 January 2018
ISBN: 9781489252692
ASIN: B075WRTDR7
Number of pages: 250
Word Count: 65,000
Cover Artist: Escape Publishing
Book Description:
They fight for their survival, they fight for their love, and they fight for the human race.
Euan left his home whole, only to return broken, battered, and partially blind. He has endured the torments inflicted upon him by monster and man, but they are nothing compared to the consequences of betraying Nick and Kira. Incapacitated, he has no choice but to concede leadership to the man he considered his enemy, and is powerless as the distance between him and those he loves deepens and grows.
But his recovery time is short lived. The commander of destruction still lurks in the shadows, determined to dominate and control what is left of the human race. The final battle is upon them. They need a champion, a hero for humanity. There is nowhere left to run, and there is only one person who can provide the ultimate catalyst for change: A little, blonde sun-sprite, with crystal blue eyes.
The third book in the Refuge Trilogy.
Excerpt Eternal Refuge:
Humanity needed
a hero. But they would find no saviour in Euan.
The steel was
cold beneath his fingers. He squeezed the rung of the ladder and the chill bit
into his palms. He tilted his neck to look up. The open portal above him was
the gateway to paradise, to fresh air and open space. Kira’s head peeked over
the lip of the gaping exit and the impossible living fairy consumed his
diminished vision. Her blue eyes glinted with adoration and pride, and her lips
quirked when he glared at her for too long.
‘Do you need
help?’ she asked.
He huffed and
shook his head. It was bitterness that clipped his words. ‘Been in bed for long
enough, sweetheart. Done waiting, done healing. If I can piss on my own, I
don’t need help to climb a ladder.’
He held in the
smirk when she sighed in mock exasperation.
One foot. Two.
He pulled himself onto the base of the ladder and hissed through his teeth at
the pain. Each foot was bound beneath his socks, so there was little risk of
further injury, but the skin remained tender, fragile. The discomfort sliced up
from the healing skin, through his calves and into the base of his spine.
He paused,
breathed. ‘You say a word, and I will tan that pretty ass.’
‘You’ll have to
catch it first,’ she said with a smile in her voice.
He answered her
taunt with a low chuckle. ‘You’d like it if I gave it a try.’
Kira’s tone was
serious when she replied, ‘I would.’
Four steps and
his hands followed. The ache in his shoulder increased as it took on more of
his weight. He blinked, and only one eye responded. The bandages were tight
around his head and his hearing was muffled. His feet stung as if the stones
still tore at his skin, as if the flames still licked at his bones. Rodger and
his parasites had taken so much from him. Stripped him of not just the flesh
from his body, but also his agility, his dexterity.
‘About to leave
this fucking bunker and I can’t hear, can’t see, can’t fucking run—’
‘You’re almost
there,’ she interjected to distract him.
It worked, as it
always did. She was a witch that wove a spell of enchantment, a netting that
drew him to her call. It had been her words that had brought him from the
temptation of death to the disaster that was his corporal self. But if she was
in the realm of the living, Euan would be too.
He moved to
place his palm against another cold rung. Kira’s assessment from above was like
a balm to his flaming skin. She filtered the shroud of despondency that clouded
his thoughts. Under her gaze he would fucking succeed.
But his depth
perception was shot and he missed his target. For a moment he wavered, his balance
precarious. Mortifying images of his broken body sprawled out on the carpet
below while Kira looked on propelled him to alter the direction of his fingers.
At the last moment, he caught the support bar.
‘Fuck.’
‘You’re doing
great,’ she said before the barbs of his self-flagellating thoughts could catch
into his confidence and take hold.
But it was too
late. His self-hatred had embedded its talons deep. His pride had done this.
His pride and his ego. If only he had waited, if only he hadn’t been so selfish.
If he had listened to his heart and not his head, he wouldn’t have risked their
lives. They wouldn’t have lost Ben …
Kira’s hand was
in his vision. In front of his single working eye was the hand of a woman that
was his heart, his humanity. Her long fingers were relaxed, pointed his way.
The offering so sincere and innocent that the grunt that caught in his throat
had nothing to do with the ram-rods of pain that shot through his nervous
system. She had worked so hard to get him here, to keep him breathing, see him
healed, on his feet, and strong enough to climb this fucking ladder without
aid.
His gut was a
pit of aggressive vipers. His breath erratic. His heart nothing but thunder and
lightning. That damn throb in his shoulder.
‘You can do it,’
she whispered.
He took a deep
breath and held it. Calmed himself. He nuzzled her palm instead of taking the
offered assistance. When he brushed his lips against her skin, she let out a
sigh.
‘I’m good,
sweetheart,’ he told her, because he was. He may be less of the man he was when
he had left them in his search for retribution, but he could, would, scale the
ladder to the surface.
About the Author:
From the age of sixteen, Annabelle lived in a youth refuge while she remained committed to her education. She spent two years within a section of humanity that society overlooks.
Her experiences are the foundations that drive her stories and her characters. They fight for their freedoms, have courage in the face of adversity and will ultimately, always aspire for greatness.
Annabelle is privileged to spend her time writing with a backdrop of Canberra’s iconic landmarks and admiring its distinct and captivating change of seasons. Outside of her love for reading, she spends every free moment with her husband, son and her poodle named Serendipity. She drinks her whisky neat and is known to scour the local markets in an attempt to find the best blue cheese available.
Follow Annabelle on Instagram @annabellemcinnes, Facebook @authorannabellemcinnes and twitter @akmcinnes. Sign up to her newsletter at www.annabellemcinnes.com and be a part of the journey.
Website: www.annabellemcinnes.com
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/annabellemcinnes/
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