Surrounded by flames and turmoil, David can’t remember how he ended up in the unfamiliar town of Ingress. While his heart is eager to find a way back home, he can’t help but intercede when he sees a young orphaned child in need of help.
Welcomed by a broken community, David becomes Ender—the unlikely leader who teaches his new people how to survive in the wilderness after losing everything. Together, they work to rebuild Ingress while Ender builds a life better than the one he left behind.
But it all could be for nothing if anyone discovers Ender’s secret.
Discover the truth behind Ingress in this mesmerizing prequel to The Divided.
Light illuminates the darkened sky above as clouds of smoke waft over me. Lying on my back, a burning tickle in my throat forces me to cough. It’s not enough to clear my airway. A series of hacking sends me to my knees as I double over in a fit. A thick layer of ash falls off my body into a soft pile on the grass under me.
My eyes, irritated by the dense smog, struggle to adjust. Pushing away the tears that have blurred my vision, all I can see is a raging inferno. The back of my sooted hand wipes away a few falling tears as my eyes frustratingly produce more.
What is going on? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was having a nightmare, reliving my war days. My mind races, trying to piece together how I got here. Surely I was asleep in my apartment only a few moments before. No, that’s not right. I was camping in the Rocky Mountains. But nothing here resembles anything close to that.
My hands press onto warm earth as I rise to my feet, feeling grass and soil instead of my silky red sleeping bag. I glance behind me in search of my things, but they aren’t there.
I drop to my knees and frantically rub my hands all over the grass for my backpack, sleeping bag, or anything—but come up empty-handed. Where are they? Hands on hips, I scratch the back of my head and recount what I remember last.
I had just broken up with Brittany, who I had been dating for seven months. She thought I was “emotionally unavailable” and called things off. Truth is, I’m not. I just wasn’t emotionally available to her. So I packed up my gear and went for a hike in the Rocky Mountains. Even though it was amicable, I was hurt and felt the urge to get some fresh air. After dinner, I holed up in an empty cave, crawled in my sleeping bag, and passed out.
Once asleep, I dreamt of falling. It was like the ground suddenly gave way and swallowed me whole, only to spit me out here.
Perspiration drips from my brow. The blistering heat is uncomfortable and causes my sweat-soaked shirt to cling to my torso. Another cough escapes and I stagger toward the road just ahead as I brush off more ash from my body. I must have been out here for a while to be covered so thoroughly.
As I wander debris-covered streets void of people, I peel my shirt away from my chest and tuck the bottom half of my face under the collar. It’s hardly helping with keeping the smoke from entering my lungs. To my left lies a series of menacing flames scattered everywhere. Every house I can see, every building, the whole town is ablaze. My mouth drops open and my heart races even faster. This is definitely not home. I’ve woken up in a completely different time or place. I rub my eyes, forcing myself to wake up from this nightmare. But I’m wide awake.
To my right, I see a large hole in a wall—like some sort of town perimeter. Next to it are four dead bodies. I stop and scan my environment for any danger. Burning buildings and dead bodies are two very different things.
A scream rings out in the distance. I cock my head and listen for any other sounds beyond the crackling and popping fire. As I move slowly toward the opening, which looks like my exit out of here, I hear it again. I’ve heard many screams from many men, but this one is different. This scream is coming from a child.
Bria Starr grew up in a small town in Minnesota and continues to live there with her family. She’s a quiet person with an infinite imagination, loves junk food, and is always cold. Her favorite things include reading, writing, listening to music, and watching too many movies.
I’m the ultimate single girl. But I’m also the best girlfriend in the world.
So when my lesser half invites me to Harvard to help him get into the most exclusive club on campus, I’m happy to help.
In fact, I’m willing to do anything to get him into this club.
Even if it means taking my top off during a scavenger hunt.
Or slipping away during a fancy dinner to use my best persuasion skills on one of his future brothers.
I might even have to tame a three-headed monster…whatever that means. Spoiler alert – it’s a sex thing. Single Girl Rules #ThreeHeadedMonster is a novella filled with love, laughs, and SO. MUCH. STEAM.
Ivy Smoak is the Wall Street Journal, USA Today, and Amazon #1 bestselling author of The Hunted Series. Her books have sold over 2 million copies worldwide.
When she’s not writing, you can find Ivy binge watching too many TV shows, taking long walks, playing outside, and generally refusing to act like an adult. She lives with her husband in Delaware.
Chieftain Alexander Mackenzie swore to hide his seer curse, taking a vow of celibacy to that end. He also learned—the hard way—to heed his premonitions, even if they’re unclear. For instance, foreseeing his clan’s victory in battle leaves him wondering how clan Fraser will side with his people then. That is, until a spirited Fraser lass stumbles onto his path—time and again.
When stakes run high, and options run out
Marjorie Fraser struggles to avoid a marriage riddled with dire consequences. While escaping the unwanted union, she becomes entangled in the alliance plots of her family’s bitter enemy. Cornered, she proposes to marry him—with a few conditions.
Lonely souls craft their future, or they doom it
Alexander and Marjorie’s union is logical and their feelings have no part in it—until their passion flares. But outside wars and inner feuds threaten to shatter them. Worst of all, after misreading a vision, will Alexander choose his people, or his heart?
“We’re only passing, sir,” Fergus said peacefully, disadvantaged against the mounted men. “We travel to Inverness’s harbour. These ladies will soon sail to a Lowlands convent.”
“You might be a few hours from Inverness, but you will not make it there.” Alexander turned to the women. “Where is Nell?”
Marjorie hesitated, yet chose to fake a misunderstanding. “Who?”
“Your sister. A band of MacDonalds will capture you two soon, at your chieftain’s order.”
“Liar!” Fergus shook a fist at him.
“You need proof? You shall have it.” Alexander sheathed his sword onto his shoulder baldric, dismounted, and fished from his sporran a folded piece of paper.
“What manner of trickery is this?” Fergus growled.
“You are right to call it trickery, but we are not doing the tricking. I shall let you read this, but not touch it. You will not destroy the evidence of Daegan Fraser’s deception.”
Fergus hunched his shoulders. “I can’t read well.”
“I can.” Marjorie quivered under the weight of several inquisitive gazes, Mackenzies and Frasers alike.
“A feat for a blacksmith’s ward.” Alexander approached the cart and stretched out a hand. “Fine. But your gaze shall be the sole thing touching this letter. Come down.”
Nell squirmed, her blue eyes huge in her small face. “Go alone?”
Alexander frowned. “Who is this? And you still have not told me where Nell is.”
Marjorie inhaled and braced herself for the mocking looks they received whenever her sibling encountered strangers. “’Tis my sister, Nell.”
Alexander’s two-tone green gaze widened, but no disdain marred his handsome features. Luckily, he did not press the matter either. “Take my hand and come down.”
Marjorie obeyed. Once they were levelled, he roughly twirled her around. She squealed as he trapped her between his body and the cart. She wanted to protest the intimate position. But when he placed his arms on both sides of her, holding the missive on the floorboards to prevent her from snatching it, any objection faded on her lips.
Kelly Ann’s passport is Canadian, yet her spiritual home is in Scotland. That’s where her soul was born. And that’s only one of the many dualities that makes her a walking contradiction.
She was a member of the Canadian Armed Forces for thirteen years, but she’s a peaceful person who loves nothing more than a romance novel. Couldn’t love be the answer to wars?
Her Maternal language is French, but as she reads mostly in English, she writes in that language. Moreover, it allows her to help other authors if they need snippets from la langue de l’amour.
She teaches pre-hospital care to adults and take the endeavour seriously, but she can be a clown when relaxing—or when teaching; her andragogy style requires some acting skills!
She dislikes the sight of blood and the concept of suffering, but she’s faced with it often since she’s a medical responder for her municipality’s fire department. She also doesn’t mind putting her characters straight into epic physical battles.
There are many other contradictions about her but to know them all, you would need to ask her wonderful husband, William. Hem…. On second thought, do NOT ask him; she’s afraid of what he might tell you!
Joining two specifics, different parts of her character led her to her writing career:
The warrior side of her saw Bosnia Herzegovina’s civil war, fights MS every day, trains hard to stay fit and defies conventions by working in predominantly male environments, either in the fire department where she responds to emergency calls of in the Maritime fields where she teaches.
The poet facet of her dreams of glens and lochs, imagines falcons hunting on desolate moors, devises settings where sea breeze flows and mist lingers, ponders on a time when loyalty was inbred in you, and revels in childhood memories of a beloved father who adored history, Scotland and Ireland. Merci papa, for transmitting that love to me.
Historical romance is her favourite genre so she joined RWA (Romance Writers of America) in 2014 and HHRW (Hearts Through History Romance Writers) shortly after. Her first book, The Blind Seer, finaled in two contests; HHRW’s Romance Through The Ages, and Indiana Romance Writers’ Indiana Golden Opportunity.
Her stories and characters spring from the British Isles in the Medieval era, she loves to ask herself: “What if that historical event happened due to ________?” She then fills in the blank!
