Author: Chris Cannon
Genre: YA Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Entangled Teen
Publication Date: February 1st, 2021
Hosted by: Lady Amber’s PR
Title: Legacy (Joey Santana Book 3)
Author: Karina Espinosa
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Cover Designer: Orina Kafe
Publication Date: Mar. 31st, 2022
Hosted by: Lady Amber’s PR
Humans vs Supes. The war has finally begun.
With our faction leaders taken by the humans, we are left to fend for ourselves in a locked down supernatural district with limited supplies. Great. How long can we survive without the outside world?
In my desperate attempt to rescue my friends, I make a deal with both Magdalena and the seelie. Unfortunately, that plan backfires and the consequences are dire. Leaving me in a predicament in which I can’t solve on my own.
With my family curse looming over my head, and the need to help the supes, I desperately try to fix everything. But when it all comes crashing down, will I be able to survive?
Me: Welcome Leela! Make yourself comfortable.
Leela: I always do, thank you.
Me: Please introduce yourself so everyone knows who you are:
Leela: My name is Leela and I am Djinn. *eyes glow green*
Me: Should people be afraid of you?
Leela: Only if they mean me harm or wish to take possession of me. So for most humans? Yes, fear me.
Me: I don’t think most humans mean you harm.
Leela: *laughs* So naïve.
Me: *shifts uncomfortably* Okay then, what would you do if someone tried to trap you and make you grant wishes?
Leela: Hmm…there are so many wonderful options. Taj likes turning humans into snakes and other creatures. Mira tends to blow things up. I suppose I’m not as messy, so I might trap them instead or just kill them. It depends on my mood.
Me: Consider us warned. What do you want out of life, Leela?
Leela: I want to be left alone as a free Djinni.
Me: Sounds simple enough. But alone?
Leela: If there is such a thing as real love, I’d be happy to experience it, but I doubt its existance. I loved once. That’s what got me into this mess.
Me: I may not be a magical genie—
Me: Right. I may not be a magical Djinni, but I am an author and I’m going to promise you something. You may go through a LOT, but you will be satisfied with the ending of The Binding Stone. And whoever reads it will enjoy the journey with you.
Leela: If I don’t get my Happily Ever After I will come back and imprison you in a diamond.
Leela: *eyes glow*
Me: HEA it is!
"I thoroughly enjoyed THE BINDING STONE (The Djinn Book 1) by Lizzy Gayle. What a fun, fast-paced, page-turner of a book! Leela and Jered are compelling main characters, and the supporting cast of friends, allies, and enemies keeps the story fresh and interesting. The flashbacks to Leela's long and difficult past perfectly compliment the main storyline. I can't wait for Book 2!" -- Lisa Edmonds, Best-Selling Urban Fantasy Author of the Alice Worth Series
"A promising paranormal romance debut with intricate backstory, a fun cast of characters, and a trio of Djinn who’ll have you rooting for their freedom to pursue true happily ever after's. A magical gem that will have readers wishing for the next in the series." -- Luna Joya, Award-Winning Author of The Legacy Series
Lizzy Gayle loves paranormal so much, she lives it. She is both an author and a psychic. Between mothering her three kids, attempting to understand her rocket scientist husband, and consistently attempting to declutter her home (that she is convinced is a secret portal to a clutter-creating dimension), she does her best to use her creative gifts and share them with you.
Amy Cissell is a USA Today Bestselling Author of urban fantasy and paranormal romance novels. She lives in Portland, OR with her husband, her haunted house-obsessed daughter, their three cats, and the murder of crows she’s conspiring to turn into her vengeful army.
When she’s not working or writing, she’s sleeping because that’s all she has time to do! There are few things Amy loves more than a well-timed pun, a good book, a glass of wine, and time at the Oregon Coast.
Although she reads anything and everything, her first love is fantasy. Eleven-year-old Amy discovered fantasy when she ‘borrowed’ her father's copy of The Hobbit and an enduring love affair (mostly with dragons) was born.
Amy is the author of the Eleanor Morgan series (complete with 7 novels & 1 novella), the Oracle Bay series (a novella, 3 novels, & counting!), and the upcoming Eden Valley series (look for book 1, Raising a Demon, on June 22, 2021). Visit www.amycissell.com to sign up for her newsletter and receive bi-monthly updates with exclusive book recommendations, short stories, bonus scenes, and alerts for new releases.
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Be enchanted. These handpicked tales of African deities and daemons, shamans and shape-shifters will keep you spellbound page after page.
Sese vehemently rejects the mating heat to a non-warrior like Urua.
Suddenly, imbued with powers of a diviner, he stands as the only hope and defender of Abedeng people. Will Urua relinquish his hurt to save his mate? Will he submit to the bond call and take her back despite her betrayal?
Things are happening in Lesedi’s life, unexplained things. Did her bi-friend Mmapula sneak into the hotel room and finally succeed in her long-threatened plan to make love to Lesedi? Or was it all a dream, a beautiful, sexy dream? When it happens again, though, Lesedi is sure she’s being visited by a supernatural being that has some insane skills in lovemaking. But is there something sinister going on?
From the looks of her, Winnie seems to have it all: fame, wealth, beauty, friends and a dashing and successful fiancé. It’s what is lying beneath the surface that drives Winnie’s life and career: the devastating loss of her family, the increasing demands of her career and the fact that she has to reveal all of this to her future husband, who also harbors a secret of his own.
Snatched of a father's love at such a tender stage in life, Asari feels the betrayal of the gods. He leads a loveless, rigid and faithless life; until he unwittingly walks into the Sacred Circle of the same gods he holds in disdain and incurs their wrath.
Assuming the mortal form, Altheme sets out to make Asari fall in love. But the terrestrial realm is riddled with unforeseen challenges. Can love truly conquer all?
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When long-suffering daemon Leonidas is trapped in Besidas’ hotel, she is drawn into a world of curious and strange creatures. Stranded after a cruel attempt on his life, Leon has spent decades trying and failing to return home. Besi evokes emotions within him that he did not think were possible for his kind and for the first time he’s enjoying Earth. But can Leon protect Besi when a dangerous entity from Leon’s past comes for revenge?
A love story full of hope and seeing beyond differences.
Mbawemi is an heir to the throne in a kingdom of witches, wolves and hybrids. Hybrids are considered the lowest form of creature in the kingdom. In enters Sangwani, a hybrid king who is anything but what Sangwani thinks of hybrids. Can their love build bridges?
Ajiri runs away from the river kingdom to avoid an arranged marriage and settles in the human world. But her relationship and sex life is lacking until she finds herself torn between two men. Will she give in to the suggestive stares from the handsome human, or cling to the blue man who haunts her dreams and unleashes erotic desires that make her yearn for more?
In life, he loved her. In death, he craved her.
Somma is heartbroken when husband David is killed in a tragic accident. After a year she is struggling to move on, especially since she swears he haunts her dreams and does sexy stuff to her every night. When friends convince her to perform an exorcism, things take a turn she doesn’t expect.
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“You’ve been following me all day, Urua.”
The tall, lanky man had grinned at her. “This isn’t strange, my friend. I’ve been following you since we were children, you just haven’t noticed.”
Sese had bristled, hating the burning urge in the pit of her stomach to hold him and smooth away his worries. “The sun has long since set, please go!”
Guilt had chewed her intestines when she’d seen the forlorn expression on his face. The urge to care had raged like a furnace within her, but she’d bitten her tongue, drawing blood in the process, to control it. He’d sighed heavily and turned onto the path leading to his home.
She sighed as she lay on her pallet, staring at the raffia roof of her hut. She should’ve been sleeping, but worry tarried in her heart. Urua had become insistent in the past seven days, the exact time the dreams had begun.
She wondered if he had dreams too, then shook her head. If Urua had the dreams she was having, he’d be more bothersome. It was as though a rope joined them now; she would leave home without informing her father of her whereabouts, yet, Urua would find her wherever she thought to hide.
Sese was afraid of what was happening. She didn’t want it—at least, not with him; what would Abedeng people say?
For many nights, she’d lain like this, afraid of sleep because he’d be waiting in her dreams to embrace her. She was weak in dream land, and the more she gave in to him there, the stronger the bond pulling them together became. She wasn’t sure Urua knew what he was doing, and she hoped it remained that way until the diviner hitched her with a worthy warrior in a fortnight.
In that time, she would avoid him as much as she could.
“Urua, you’re trying my patience.”
He reared back at her comment as though entirely shocked by it, even though she said the exact same thing every day, with the exact same expression—or lack of expression in her case.
“You called my name!” he enthused in suppressed excitement.
This caused her to groan in exasperation and resume her clipped pace on the narrow beaten path leading to the deserted area where the diviner dwelled in his tiny hut.
He rushed after her.
“I think me trying your patience is a good thing,” he expressed conversationally.
“How is that?” Sese asked before she could tighten her mouth and remain unresponsive as usual.
Urua grinned at her angry look because he knew she hated responding to him, especially after having ignored him for a better part of their lives.
“Well, you should be nicer to me. The gods might just hitch us tonight,” he proclaimed.
Sese stumbled, missing a step despite the dark path being slightly lit by a lone torch one of the maidens must have considerately left, tied to a low branch. She could walk these paths without light, so it wasn’t that she hit her feet. No, Urua’s words had shocked her down to her core.
They had caused a visceral reaction which she was taking as panic, and it had weakened her knees for a moment, causing her to stumble.
“See well, my heart!” he exclaimed, reaching out to steady her.
That same primeval reaction, this time shooting through her body as though she had been lanced by lightning, unearthed strange warmth from the pit of her stomach.
No, it couldn’t be.
She’d been fighting this for days. Did it mean the ntung leaf—rumoured to break unwanted bonds—she’d squeezed into her eyes and nose hadn’t worked after the fiery hurt she’d endured?
No, it had to be the boiled palm juice she’d imbibed at her grandfather’s hut. It wasn’t Urua’s words, either—everybody was used to him saying outrageous things like that to her, and they were used to her always ignoring him.
In their little settlement south of the great Niger river, females had always been more plentiful than males, and so, it was required that every twelve moons, the diviner would seek the face of the gods and hitch a woman to a man with the hope that they might mate and birth, at least, one male.
During her father’s birthing period, a lot of males had been born, but their numbers still couldn’t compare with that of the females. So, some of the females of her age would be hitched tonight to males that already had one or two women who had birthed males and were presently suckling them at their breasts.
It was believed that a male able to mate with two females, causing them to birth males, deserved a third female to carry his strong seed, though this practice only began because there were just not enough males in Abedeng.
The females were tender and nurturers while the males became warriors. But the strangest thing had happened—Urua had been birthed a male but had the lack of strength of a female, while Sese had been birthed a female but was as strong as the fiercest Abedeng warrior; a sacrilege.
The villagers began shrugging their shoulders at them as many twelve moons added to their age. Urua was older than her with three twelve moons, but he acted like a child, which was how females behaved, while she acted like a male.
Her mother had died on her eighth twelve moons while trying to birth another child. So, her father had been confused as to how to care for a female child with male abilities. The other children had refused to play with her—they had accepted Urua but rejected her. They told their mothers she didn’t know how to play, since her touch was too strong; they said she would never birth a child.
The diviner had called a gathering and explained to the village that her strength wasn’t strange since the gods had prophesied about females with male strengths in the past. He’d also explained that every male must not be warriors and that Urua had the divining gift, the reason why he didn’t have the male strength.
Males in Abedeng were known to be extremely tall with big, burly bodies bulging with strength. Urua was tall, but his body never developed with strength no matter how many times he joined in the ceremony of lifting stones which the males did every morning to increase their bulk.
Her father had allowed her to join him in the ceremony every morning when she had reached her ninth twelve moons and had taught her how to fight like a warrior; it was the only thing he knew to teach her, since the other females wouldn’t come near her strangeness enough to teach her female ways.
So, she had grown up a warrior. Her father had stopped her from the ceremony of lifting stones before she reached her twelfth twelve moons as her body had begun looking more like a male with rippling strength. He had worried that if she continued, no male would want to mate with her. But he had continued teaching her the warrior fights.
Sese had been avoided like a leper by males and females, well, except for her father and of course, the person she most wanted to avoid, Urua. In her fifteenth twelve moons, she had bested the third warrior in an unplanned fight. The third warrior had been disgracing Urua in front of their age group, abusing him for lacking strength like a female; his words and tone had angered her.
She had challenged him, and he had accepted. It had taken only three fight claps from the gathering to throw him on his back. She had learned well from her father who was the second warrior in his own age group.
The third warrior’s father had been incensed and had demanded that Sese be punished for disgracing a warrior three twelve moons older than her. Culture demanded that she forfeit any fights with her elders. But she couldn’t have—she had been filled with so much fury when she had seen the redness in Urua’s eyes, redness caused by the third warrior putting sand there.
She had been punished with seven days of pulling weed around the third warrior’s hut. It was a painful process to pull weed, since these had sharp edges that pierced the skin. She had not been allowed to use a tool, so she had pulled with her bare hands, bleeding the whole seven days.
The third warrior had hung around for three days, waiting for the humiliation of Sese sobbing for forgiveness, but that had never happened. On the fifth day, he had gone to his warrior group, a group Urua wasn’t a part of because of his weakness, and told them she was a witch, an abomination that the gods would never allow to birth a child.
People had started avoiding her more, but Urua had stuck to her like the gum from the mango tree. Despite her several rejections of him, he remained by her side every time he could. And then, every time he wasn’t supposed to.
He had taken to joining her father when he practiced the ceremony of lifting stones at the crack of dawn. It had taken her ten days to realize that in doing that, he bore the humiliation of not being able to lift the bigger stones; he bore her father’s mockery of his weakness just because he wanted to watch her learn the warrior fights from her father.
It annoyed her to no end that he wouldn’t just leave her alone. She was fine with the rejection of the village, though she worried she might never mate with a male since all the warriors, even of her age group, refused to mate with her. No one wanted a witch; no one cared for an abomination—everyone mated to birth children, and there was a possibility she might not be able to.
She should have been mated two twelve moons ago, but no warrior wanted her. Even the old warriors of her father’s age group shook their heads when she was pointed at in the mating line. And then the dreams had begun, and Urua had become even more clinging.
But tonight, the diviner had called a special gathering to hitch the next age group. Sese was going with the hope that a younger warrior might choose her, or the gods might force her on an unsuspecting one. She really needed to mate. She needed to feel like a woman, and only a warrior would make her feel that way by mating.
She was afraid she might not birth a child, but she wanted to experience the heat of mating that her mother had always spoken to her about before her death. She wanted to feel that heat with a warrior, not Urua.
“The gods wouldn’t be so cruel,” she spoke after snatching her arm away from his helping hands. Sese looked into the darkness as though she were facing the immortal ancestors believed to dwell beyond the brightness of burning torches. “The gods wouldn’t be so cruel to hitch me with you.”
Urua grabbed his chest as though he had just been lanced by a spear. For a moment, she thought he had been attacked from behind by an enemy, but then, he looked up with his smile, the one that created two deep indents in his cheeks; the one that made him almost as beautiful as the fairest maiden in Abedeng.
“You pierce my heart, sweet Sese,” he murmured.
When had his voice deepened to that gruffness that seemed to vibrate in her chest when he spoke? Even her father, second warrior of his age group and revered chieftain, didn’t have such deepness in his tone.
Sese took a step back. She wasn’t afraid of Urua—she could beat him in an unplanned fight, but she worried about the things she was noticing in him. Like the broadness of his chest, though it wasn’t as broad as the usual Abedeng warrior, but strangely, she liked it.
She took another step back; she shouldn’t like it. Urua was an apprentice to the diviner. He would never be hitched, since the present diviner wasn’t.
This shouldn’t be happening, she thought in panic. She’d taken the rumoured antidote; she couldn’t be experiencing the heat of mating her mother had explained towards Urua.
No, she silently screamed. It was a mistake. Mother had said that the mating heat was rare, and it only happened between two special people after so many uncountable twelve moons. The mating heat entailed a man and woman feeling undeniably drawn to each other without the selection of the diviner. Mother had explained it as sometimes being shameful, as the mates couldn’t stay away from each other.
She hadn’t felt the heat for any other warriors, no matter how many times her father had asked her; no matter how many times she’d tried by surreptitiously brushing her body against males when at gatherings—an act her mother had said triggered the heat. She had never felt it, though it didn’t mean she wanted to feel it with Urua.
But a touch from him, just one helping hand, and heat had unfurled in her stomach like a coiled snake angrily rousing from slumber. That’s what she’d been avoiding the past fortnight, and it was happening now, just when she was close to, hopefully, being hitched by the diviner?
Sese shook her head, refusing the possibility. She straightened her height; a foot shorter than Urua, she noticed. Her heart instantly jumped in elation, but she stomped it down and widened the distance between them.
“You look strange, my heart. What is it?” he asked with concern.
Why wouldn’t he stop calling her his heart? The look on his beautiful face surged the heaviest warmth from her stomach, pushing at the walls of her chest to burst free.
She tightened her hand on her staff and silently fought to hold up the walls of her chest. Sese realized that distancing herself from him reduced the force of the heat. She took three more steps from him, not minding that Urua looked at her strangely.
Silently, she prayed he not feel the heat or the connection. The farther she was from him, the better chance of ending this night wrapped around a worthy warrior who would surely give her a male child.
Even his voice was alluring. She could feel the warmth pooling and tingling in between her thighs. Oh, gods, it was exactly as her mother had said it would be. She had said she would know instantly who her fated mate was, but she didn’t want to know it was Urua. She would never be normal if she mated with Urua. The village would avoid them and any children they birthed … if they birthed children.
They were the only abominations in Abedeng, and she knew they would only birth strange children if they mated. If she accepted the bond call, she would be stuck with Urua all her life, dependent on him, unable to be without him.
And if a mate died, Mother had explained that the unbearable pain usually made the living mate take his or her life. Sese didn’t appreciate the unbreakable link that came with being fated mates tied by an unseen bond. She rather preferred being physically paired with a warrior she wouldn’t be dependent on; with a warrior stronger and more ripped than her who would make her feel feminine, a warrior for whom she wouldn’t have the urge to kill herself if he died.
All that was lost as thoughts of mating with Urua became insistent, making her thighs tighten to stop the recent incessant tingling.
“By the gods, you’re sweating,” Urua noticed, his voice filled with confused concern as he hurried towards her, intending to grant help, which would mean touching her.
Sese shook her head and bolted down the path as though chased by the eleventh enemy of the gods.
The hunt is on...
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“Spill the beans woman before I lose my ever-loving mind.” I loved making Kenya wait, she was the most impatient female I knew. Lizzie was turning beat red as she did her best not to laugh. Whether from the expressions on Kenya’s face, or the bright pink lipstick she’d decided to try that seemed to glow, I had no idea. Maybe it was both. Kenya sat back in her seat and crossed her arms at her very ample chest, which drew more attention to the blindingly bright yellow dress she had on. The way she was dressed was a sure sign the two of them must have had a fight about something. It was the only time Kenya pulled out the tackiest looking clothes she could find. And with her exotic midnight sky complexion the neon bright material looked like it was actually glowing in the dark, and it was broad daylight.
“Lizzie, did you really have to piss her off today?” I eyeballed her as I asked the question and did my best to hold in the laugh that bubbled up in my throat. Lizzie looked conservative in comparison to her mate. She wore a black leather catsuit which only had one sleeve, the other didn’t have so much as a spaghetti strap which showed off her slightly muscular, milky cream arm. With her blonde hair pulled to the top of her head in a sleek ponytail and cut bangs that hung right below her eyebrows she looked like she had just walked off the Charlies Angels film set. The two of them already resembled night and day as it was, even without Kenya’s added antics. “I mean, come on. How am I supposed to give y’all all the details you’ve been waiting to hear while trying to avoid looking at a Rainbow Brite reject for too long? Is she doing an experiment that neither of us know about? Can supes go blind, and if so what kind?”
Lizzie couldn’t stop the laugh that came from her mouth, which was unfortunate considering she had just taken a huge sip of her extra dead red bubbly. Good thing she had on black. One of the waiters came rushing over with more than a few extra napkins as Lizzie began to explain, “Your friend has a case of baby fever and is doing her level best to pass it on to me.” Was her sultry reply.
“So?” That really didn’t explain much, not given their situation, “Lizzie, I thought the two of you worked that out a long time ago. That you were going to start your family right around now. It’s been, what, twenty-five years already, right?” That earned me a scoff and an eyeroll from Kenya.
Lizzie went on to say to me, “Having the baby isn’t what the problem is. The problem is that she wants me to be the one to carry it. That was not part of the deal, and she knows it.”
“But you handle pain so much better than I do.” Kenya replied as she did her level best to pout with her arms crossed against her chest. Which only made Lizzie and I laugh that much harder.
Once I was finally able to curtail my laughter I asked Kenya, “So you mean to tell me you over there huffin and puffin over something you have no business being mad about?” when she made no attempt to respond I continued, “Why would you even want Lizzie to carry the baby? She’s part of the Guard you whacko.” I laughed a bit more when she rolled her eyes at that, “Goddess, I really missed this.”
“You’re the one that decided to take a ten-year honeymoon.” Lizzie said as she scooted back her chair and stood, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I see my dinner. Don’t spill any details until I get back.”
After she bent down to give Kenya a kiss on her still pouting, bright lips, Lizzie sashayed off to the dancefloor where willing donors were dancing to some new techno beat. We were at Club Vamptasy. That had been my first visit to the club since it had been built while I was still abroad on my honeymoon. Apparently, the royal families created a new bar, or club, in each district as peace offerings after the wars. Well, they called them the wars, but if you asked me it was more like a huge family feud between the vampires, witches, and Rasputins, with a few others caught in the crossfire. Guess it was just one of those ‘all in how you look at it’ things. The clubs weren’t segregated or anything stupid such as that, just each catered to specific factions needs. But everyone was allowed to come and have a good time.
At Club Vamptasy, the snack bar was literally on the dance floor. Human donors of every variety swayed to the beat with their necks and wrists exposed. If a vampire wanted to take a more intimate vein they had to do so in one of the private rooms in the back. I hadn’t been to a private room or the snack bar yet, didn’t have a need. I had already fully fed before I left home. To each their own and all that, but I’d much rather feed at home than in public. Guess a part of me would just always be a tad bit shy. Though my mate did tend to bring out my wild side; which was part of the reason I left him at home. The other part was that he was out catching up with his own friends.
I don’t think I could have stopped smiling had I wanted to as I my eyes locked onto Kenya as she watched her wife sink her fangs into one of the women on the dance floor, “My Goddess, does the euphoric feeling ever go away?” I absently asked her.
“No.” Kenya laughed slightly before she continued, her eyes still glued to the female she loved, “Do not get me wrong, we fight, which you already know. But the love? That just grows so much stronger. I have heard horror stories of wrong mates being matched by fate, but that is not the case for us.”
I shuttered at the unexpected chill those words made shoot up my spine, “Yeah, I really hope those are just rumors.”
Completely ignoring me, Kenya puckered up her lips for a kiss as Lizzie sashayed her way back to where we sat, “Reina, can you tell your friend over there to put those bright ass lips down? I am not getting that neon mess on me.” Lizzie said as she plopped down in her chair. The three of us couldn’t help but all laugh.
It felt good to be back home, though the more I recapped my honeymoon, the more I missed my mate. Since Lizzie was part of the royal guard, the waiter kept us topped off with only the top shelf mixtures. The alchemist had done a fabulous job of creating all types of alcoholic beverages mixed with blood that we could consume without getting sick, as long as we didn’t go overboard with it. They held no nutritional value whatsoever, but they tasted good and being able to get tipsy was more than a little bit of fun. But, they did make us have to use the restroom, something we normally only did maybe twice a day. Me more so than others as evidenced by the squeaky chorus of, “Again?”, I received from Lizzie and Kenya when I excused myself from the table.
The place wasn’t jam packed, but it did have a decent enough sized crowd that I had to say excuse me several times before I finally made my way to the restroom. There was less of a crowd there, sense most were still leery of the new drinks. Altogether the daunting task took probably less than two minutes.
I was headed back to where me and the girls had been seated when a rather large hand grabbed my upper arm and spun me around, “Josephine?”, he said once we were face to face. His voice was deep and gravelly, and sent chills down my spine, and not in a good way.
“Uh, no. You’ve got the wrong girl.” I said to him with a nervous laugh as I tried but failed to shrug him off, which should have been easy. He wasn’t a vampire, or a shifter, so he wasn’t stronger than me. I closed my eyes for a second to gain my composure and in that small amount of time I could sense that he was a warlock (and no, a warlock isn’t just a male witch, but more like a war mage. And can be either a male or female), but something about him and his magic were just off. If felt crazed, erratic. “Dude, seriously, I’m not whoever you think I am.”
“Josie, baby, it’s me.” Desperation laced his words and pulled at my heartstrings even though he truly gave me the heebie-jeebies. The silent tear that shed down from his eye swirled with magic and strangely had sparks shooting up the birthmark on my hipbone.
“Hey, Rena. We got a problem here?” Bruno, one of the barrel-chested, brutal looking members of the royal guard came to the rescue just as the stranger was about to pull me closer to him. Bruno grabbed the male’s hand away from me while he said to me, “You just go ‘head wit da girls and finish y’alls night whiles I have a word or two with our new friend here.”
Right before I walked off I said to Bruno, “Don’t be too hard on him, he just thought I was someone else.” I almost changed my words when I looked down and saw a magic burn mark on my arm where he had been holding onto me.
“Are you okay?” Kenya asked once I made my way back to the table.
“Yeah, no, I don’t know. That whole little encounter just felt…wrong. Maybe we should just go.” As we parted ways I couldn’t help the eerie feeling that I’d seen that mystery male before, and would again.
About the Author:
T. A. resides in Detroit, Michigan with her five children, and the rest of her dysfunctional family, where she was born and raised. She started her writing career in the midst of a very hard time in her life and is now a best-selling author. Her debut and award-winning novel, Witch Wars, and the world of Underlayes, was born from a mind that desperately needed an escape, so she created one.
The novel was inspired by her love of all things paranormal and how she wanted it seen. “We live in a diverse world, shouldn’t all of the characters in books, even paranormal also be diverse,” she says. “I saw so few paranormal books with a diverse cast until I read L. A. Banks. You know, with more than one or two diverse characters thrown in for good measure. Mine have it all, too.”
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