his debut novel from S.D. Huston is a partial fairytale retelling of Snow White & Rose Red mashed up with Irish mythologies!
Triplet sisters, one dead, one kidnapped. A vengeful leprechaun and a scheming goddess. Can Lily save her last sister?
When sixteen-year-old sisters Lily and Rose take it upon themselves to aid a tiny man with a long beard in distress, he curses them into a world of trouble. Lily contends with the grief that lies behind her while trapped in a suffocating silent world of her own design, and she must now face the threat of what might lie ahead.
Whether she believes it or not, leprechauns are real, and in Lugh she has made an unfortunate enemy. Now the race is on to save Rose from the deranged whims of an unscrupulous faery and find out what, or who, is behind this mysterious turn of events. To find the answers, Lily must face the darkness that plagues her: both inside and out. On the grand stage of this world and the Otherworld, an adventure bursts forth so chaotic perhaps even Lily can’t silence it.
Weaving lore, light, and the lush beauty of the Irish language into the wintery landscape of a mystical Ireland around its 3rd century, Blood of the Lily brings to life a world where even the most fantastical places and creatures can be corrupted by the realities of life. This first book in the Clash of Goddesses series transports you into the enchanting and masterfully crafted Otherworld of Éire as one may only see in dreams. Start your journey today!
“I want my sister.” Lily held up the harp, ready to play, but Fintan put a hand on her arm.
“You can’t banish me this time, Lugh,” he said. “You must come back home. Your sister is worried about you. Ébliu will not stop pestering me.”
“You stupid oaf! Why get married?” Lugh tugged his gray beard. “My sister won’t leave you alone? Fine. We’ll fix that.” With a wiggle of his beard, he sent Fintan crashing past the entrance to tumble further back into the cave.
The sound of a grumbled roar sent chills through Lily. What monster hid back there?
“No pestering from Ébliu anymore.” Lugh laughed and yelled his words at the back of the cave. “Just watch out for the dragon!”
Suddenly, the bear roared forward, thinking to take advantage of the little man’s distraction. Lugh swung around and fluttered his fingers, his beard turning golden in a bright light. Cúig stopped in mid-leap. His paws ran in the air but made no progress.
“And you, my friend, wouldn’t be in your predicament if you hadn’t looked for my gold. For that,” Lugh wagged a finger back and forth, “you can go look at all the gold you want but no touching or the dragon will get you.”
Cúig flew back into the cave’s darkness, disappearing the same way Fintan had been dismissed.
Lily shook, her teeth ground so tightly together that she lost feeling in her jaw. She strummed the first chord of the sleeping song.
The leprechaun held up a hand. “Come Daur da Bláo, apple-sweet murmurer, come, Coir Cethair Chuir, four-angled frame of harmony, come summer, come winter, out of the mouths of harps and bags and pipes!”
The harp flew from her hands to his, ripped right out of her grasp. Only a second passed before she pulled out her spear, ready to hurtle the iron tip through him, but then she was blinded by a bright light. She blinked several times to clear away the spots in her eyes.
When she could see again, she was back home.
Right outside the wooden palisade of Ráth Bláthanna. Now, how would she save her sister with the Samhain portals closed?
S.D. Huston grew up in several places across the United States, but now lives in Florida’s panhandle with her husband, her youngest son who is autistic, four cats, and one special Siberian Husky. Her oldest son is off serving the country in the U.S. Army.
She’s always had a love for the written word, asking for her first typewriter when she was nine years old (yes, a typewriter!). However, her multiple career paths meandered through seven years in the military, then working in administration, before completing her masters in Writing. She spent the next seven years teaching college English and Literature while also running her own business as a Writing Coach, helping students and writers all over the world.
Today she concentrates solely on her writing career and her family: human, furry, and faery!
Imagine waking up on the edge of the woods with no memory of who you are or how you got there.
When Aine finds herself in this situation, she must rely on the kindness of others to get back on her feet. With the help of a handsome Irish stranger she starts a new life, but her memories soon claw their way out and she can’t outrun her duty.
A story of intrigue, discovery and the corruption of ambition. Aine must figure out her past, before the life she can’t remember is destroyed.
As she walked back to her seat, the large glass doors at the front opened, and a tall, muscular man walked in. Aine froze as a quiet growl escaped her throat and her muscles tensed. He moved with a lethal, controlled grace. She dropped into a crouch as she watched his muscular frame push the door closed.
He had rough facial hair along a prominent jaw, his ice-blue eyes were cold with inexplicable anger as he looked at her. His hair was dark chocolate brown, slightly grey around his ears.
Dizziness overtook Aine as he walked forward—not the best moment to be left vulnerable. Her instincts screamed at her to escape. The little energy the food had given her drained away as she faced him, ready to fight.
The man frowned, as he looked her in the eyes, and when her gaze met his, a jolt of recognition shot through her. Confused, she growled a warning. The kitchen door slammed behind her, and Aine quickly turned to keep both entrance and exit in view.
Title: Feisty Author: Emm Darcy Genre: Contemporary New Adult Fiction
I was supposed to stay invisible.
My school might be a den of vipers, but if I endure senior year, I have a shot at my dream: a place at Tisch.
I’m used to keeping my eyes down and my mouth shut to survive the cruel, depraved, privileged assholes who delight in breaking the weak. Then I see something I can’t ignore. Four boys, as beautiful as they are twisted, threatening my friend. They might run the school, but that doesn’t give them the right to corner a poor, terrified girl.
Only, I didn’t have all the facts when I intervened. I stood up to the four idols of this school, and Jason, the worst of them, won’t let the world forget it. Now I’m no longer a ghost: I’m the target, humiliated at every turn.
If I want them off my back, I don’t have any choice but to make a deal with the devil who started this nightmare in the first place.
Jason’s more than happy to oblige…as long as I’m willing to play his twisted games.
A life for a life … will kill the both of us in the end.
Clover
I know nothing of the Sickness at Eastpoint University. I know only the backroads that slip past the southern beaches and the gators that make their way onto the swamps shores. Until him. Until the killer known as Braxton Smalls finds his way into my stilted trailer on the coast of Port Charlotte.
He came looking for Ace, but he found me instead…
Braxton
I’m a monster. Always have been. Always will be. The only people I’ve ever given a shit about are my boys and their girls. No one hurts my family, and knowing that someone has … and that they’ve gotten away with it plagues me.
Ace Volkov will pay for what he put Avalon through and if I have to use his most precious weakness to draw him out, I will.
She thinks she can bargain for his life with her own, but I mean to show her that there’s nothing I won’t do to see my vengeance through to the end.
Lucy Smoke is a USA Bestselling Author most known for her Iris Boys series.
Lucy is a writer of dark romance, new adult and young adult romance, and various other sub-genres therein. Her main writing focus is on various forms of romance. She loves to experiment with her characters and shine a little light on things that catch her fancy.
You can contact her or view her catalog via her website at www.Lucysmoke.com or join her newsletter to keep up to date on all the latest releases!
Title: Thorn of Secrets Author: B. Truly Genre: Young Adult Contemporary Romance
n love with the same face that haunts me….
The falling leaves of autumn are like the deceit in my family lineage. Closing the door on the infinite cold—winter blossoms into the spring of new beginnings. In the next season of my life, I’m mending the pieces back together. Opening myself up, I even begin to date, which is a big step for me.
After graduating from high school, a shocking development causes me to be on alert. When nothing comes of it, I move forward, wanting desperately to put the past behind me.
About to start college, I bump into someone from my complicated past, and my heart is torn. The dilemma I struggle with: Do I let other people’s opinion define who I am? I must decide if I’ll push through the ridicule and pave my own path. Could the face that’s scorned me be the key to my resolve? I’ll never know if I take the easy way out.
I’ve unlocked my darkest secret only to have it return to torment me. As the thorns of his obsession encompass me, I discover I’m part of a twisted ploy. If I don’t figure a way out of this predicament, then the life I’ve known may cease to exist.
Don’t miss the riveting sequel to Madison’s story that will have you dangling on the edge of your seat.
B. Truly has wanted to be an author since she was fifteen years old. She is grateful to have accomplished this dream. B. Truly has very vivid dreams and a wild imagination. She likes to read, watch tons of TV shows, and movies. She’s addicted to romance and gets a thrill out of suspense and sci-fi. She writes young adult, new adult, and adult romance, sci-fi, dystopian, and paranormal genres.
B. Truly likes to explore conflicted plots of romance with thrilling twists. She also loves creating impossible situations for her characters to grow from and try to overcome.
B. Truly has three wonderful children, and a husband who defines the person that she is today. She works full-time as an Ultrasound technologist in Houston, Texas.
Title: The Dark Queen Author: M. Dalto Genre: New Adult Fantasy
For fans of Elise Kova, Sarah J. Maas, and Holly Black.
For centuries, the Empire has been enslaved to an infallible, revered Prophecy—one that controlled every thought and action, banished those who questioned its integrity, and promised to bring peace and tranquility to those who followed blindly and believed unconditionally.
But the Prophecy is flawed.
Amid broken promises and mournful lamentations, fates are changed, and dreams are destroyed.
When an ancient force resurfaces and threatens to destroy all they know, new alliances are formed as the heirs to the Empire’s throne struggle to put aside personal differences for the good of their realm.
It wasn’t like when she had been outside for too long without an overcoat or a cape. Or as if she were caught out in the rain without an umbrella and the chill of the evening air had penetrated through her clothes until it reached her bones.
No, it was the feeling of waking up in the middle of the night after a nightmare, body slick with sweat and heart racing.
This was the chill of fear.
Wherever she was, it was dark. She sensed the cool smoothness of stone around her, yet when she cast her arms out she couldn’t feel any walls. From the smell of damp rock, however, she knew they were there.
And they were cold.
It was paralyzing. Instead of running, or trying to find a way out, she wrapped her arms around herself as if to retain whatever last bit of inner warmth she possessed. Huddled within those biting, stone confines, she tried to keep her teeth from chattering and her body from seizing.
Where was she? And how did she get there in the first place?
She had just watched the others pack and head off on their trek to the Borderlands. She and Jamison had stayed behind, and as they were returning to the palace…
Crystal.
She had approached them with no limp, no hobble, no sign of any outward injuries. In fact, the way she had snuck up on Alex in the palace gardens, catching her completely unaware, it was as though she hadn’t been in the infirmary just moments before, allegedly healing from wounds inflicted upon her by Lexan.
She remembered seeing Jamison in the distance, sprawled on the ground, immobile. And that man…
She had never met him before, but those eyes—they bore into her soul as if she should have recognized him.
A sob choked in her throat as her head throbbed with pain.
Mom!
Despite the ache, Alex’s head whipped upward, and she stared desperately into the gloom. Sarayna? What was she doing there?
She tried to gather her legs beneath her, but they felt like lead. The pounding in her head—it was getting worse. Alex had to warn her daughter and maybe Sarayna could at least escape whatever this was, could tell Reylor and Treyan…
“Alexstrayna.”
Her name echoed off the stones as if someone were there with her, watching her all along.
“Who’s there?” she rasped; her throat was raw as if she had been screaming. Had she? She couldn’t remember anything since her path crossed Crystal’s in the gardens.
A smooth, feminine chuckle resounded around her. “Oh, we are going to have a fine time together, you and I.”
“Who are you?” Alex demanded, her voice growing louder. She finally regained her footing and pushed herself up into a standing position.
The pain within Alex’s skull was almost unbearable, but her eyes began to adjust slowly, taking in what was, indeed, a room. The moss-covered walls confirmed the smell of dampness and the sound of trickling water could be heard. There was a brightening light above, shining through the darkness from a window. It was as if the suns were rising on a new day—like a dawning ray of hope that she was going to escape this hell. Wherever it was.
Although every muscle in her body was tense, as if the frigid air was eating away at her from the inside out, she started toward the light.
And that voice remained all around her.
Laughing.
“Until we meet again, Empress,” it said, just as that light exploded within the room.
For a moment, illuminated by the flash, Alex swore she saw a throne—a black marble chaise carved into the wall. Upon that throne was a female clad in black.
A woman wearing her face.
Before she could take a step closer to investigate, that light exploded not only in that dark room, but also inside her head. The brightness intermingled with the pain that had been building between her eyes, bursting like a million pins and needles through every pore of her body. Everything went dark as Alex screamed.
M. Dalto is a bestselling New Adult author of adventurous romantic fantasy stories, having won a Watty award for excellence in digital storytelling for her debut novel, Two Thousand Years, in 2016. She spends her days as a full-time residential real estate paralegal, using her evenings to pursue her literary agenda, and when she’s not writing, she enjoys reading fantasy novels, playing video games, and drinking coffee. She currently lives in Massachusetts with her husband, their daughter, and their corgi named Loki.
Among the immortals that inhabit our world, Arnaud Demeure is known as the man who can fulfill your one true wish or who can also conjure your worst nightmares.
Eight invitations are sent to eight immortals, and when Arnaud Demeure hosts a party, no one refuses his request. Why have they been summoned? Is it for a celebration or does a sinister fate await them? After all, in the ways of Magick, a party can also be a ritual to end the world.
As the mystery deepens, the attendees must overcome their personal grudges to unravel the threads of Demeure’s grand plan that has been centuries in the making. But, with one of the guests secretly working with their host to sabotage the group’s every move, it seems impossible to look behind the curtain to learn Demeure’s true intentions.
With each guest hiding dark secrets and darker intentions, will they be able to uncover Demeure’s mysterious motives or will the party prove to be the deadly nightmare that they each fear?
The young sister ran through the silent city while the prophet waited for her to arrive. The old man knew she would come; he had seen her already. Hidden by the shadow of an old staircase, eyes fixed on the door, he tried not to get distracted by the creatures in his vision.
Thousands of them, maybe millions, all crammed within glass walls.
The youngest sat at the center of the glass prison. It was taller than the tallest mountain. It was quiet amid the frenzy of its brothers. Its head so high it saw beyond the ceiling of its prison, straight into the realm of the Eldest Lords. Light leaked from underneath its shaking, half-closed eyelids. It peeked into the future.
As the prophet watched them, the creatures stared at him from far away. He could see them, yet his mind could not make full sense of their shapes, only of a few features. A crowd of wings, fangs, stingers, and every piece of every animal he could think of, and some he had never seen, crawling on each other while human parts pushed their way through. The tall one, its eyes closed, hummed over and over.
“We are so close. It won’t be long.”
The others followed its chanting and moved back and forth in front of the glass holding them prisoners, just like animals expecting a bite of their prey.
The prophet almost missed the nun’s arrival. She ran up the stairs, hesitating as she put one foot on the first step.
Unseen, the prophet followed.
From the roof, he tasted the entire city. A forest of concrete and metal spreading in every direction, so much so that nothing existed if not within it. The sun blinded him, shining in white and gold. Dawn was a miracle. He stood still, in awe of the most magnificent city, and he almost forgot he had followed someone.
But there she was, the young sister, standing close to the balustrade, her arms raised to the sky, her shape dark against the sunlight.
The tall metallic tower pierced the sky and stabbed the sun, just like an arrow. The star bled, scattering its light all over the town.
White particles fell from the sky. Snow perhaps, or dust, he could not say. He dared to look up. The sky had turned dark despite the sun shining in it, light still leaking over the city.
In the cold air, no sound but the wind.
Nothing else made a noise. No sound of cars or their horns. No talking or music playing, no chirping of birds.
The prophet stood transfixed.
Cars were still on the asphalt, their lights on. Some stuck in place, some coasting along the streets. Many had slid, hitting nearby objects. Tombstones in an old graveyard, they lay against each other, against lampposts, or sat on the sidewalks.
Men and women, asleep, still clung to their steering wheels.
Their heads blasted out of the windshields or hung from the windows. Hundreds and hundreds of bodies covered the sidewalks and the streets. More must have been resting within the buildings, unmoving, untouched.
Here and there, white, black, and red stains, each tens of meters long, covered the streets—flocks of birds caught in whatever happened.
Nobody moved, nobody talked, everyone rested in this cemetery, testimony of a dark miracle.
The world had moved on. The city, now empty, stayed behind. Paris was dead, and the Great Ones were free.
Born and raised in Sicily, M.L. spent most of his early life inventing stories and believing he could live in them.
In high school, he spent way too much time watching B movies, playing video games, and reading everything he could get his hands on, provided it wasn’t recommended by any authority figure.
M.L. spent most of his college years and adult life writing in languages only machines can understand until he decided to put some of his stories on the page.
After a few years spent in Scotland, now M.L. lives in Seattle with his wife, his cat, and a large assortment of books. When not writing, he still enjoys playing video games and explaining board game rules to his friends.
ROPHECIES ARE A GIRL’S WORST NIGHTMARE. I definitely angered a god in a past life. I was minding my business and enjoying my burning chemistry with Nox, my demon warden, and then bam! I’m getting dragged to literal Hell under the orders of Lilith, Queen of Hell… and Nox’s mother. It turns out there’s a lovely prophecy that says I am the Harbinger, the Catalyst for the Apocalypse that will burn down Hell and Earth. And Lilith wants to kill me to prevent it. Cornered, Nox and I bargain with Lilith, and she agrees to let me live… as long as I keep my dirty Nephilim fingers away from Nox. Naturally, Nox and I find as many loopholes as possible for our bargain, but our relief is short-lived. New enemies pop around like daisies, and old ones come back even from the dead. Light and darkness lay their claim on us, determined to render our connection to ash. Are we strong enough to subvert the prophecy before Heaven and Hell cleave us apart? I don’t know, but I sure as Hell will fight with everything I’ve got, even if I burn. I’ve always loved playing with fire, anyway.
The second installment of The Cursed and The Fallen series.
Selene Kallan is a fantasy author who daydreams about her imaginary worlds most of the time. Her obsession with vampires, and all things supernatural, has made her an avid reader. She loves writing, discovering new metal bands, and watching superhero movies. She is also feeling a little crazy while writing about herself in third person, but apparently, this is the way to go.
Pain is etched across his face, and I just want to erase it. I thread my fingers through his and he clasps my hand firmly. “You were only a kid, it was an accident, and you weren’t the only one involved.”
“None of that matters though.” He turns to me with tears in his eyes. “I still relive it all the time, and the guilt never goes away. I don’t think it ever will.”
My eyes search his and I can’t bear to see him hurting, so I fling my arms around him, without any hesitation, holding him tight.
Friends hug friends, right?
He leans his head on my shoulder, and I wrap my arms tighter around him. “Some days, I think all the guilt I’m carrying will eat me alive. Some days, it’s a struggle to get out of bed. After I lost you, music became my only salvation. I honestly don’t know if I’d still be here if I wasn’t a musician.”
“Don’t say that.” I hug him closer. “I can’t bear to think of a world without you in it.” “I can say the same of you, and I don’t ever want you to leave, Zeta, but I’m a selfish prick like that.”
Siobhan Davis is a USA Today, Wall Street Journal and Amazon Top 10 bestselling romance author. Siobhan writes emotionally intense stories with swoon-worthy romance, complex characters, and tons of unexpected plot twists and turns that will have you flipping the pages beyond bedtime! She has sold over 1.5 million books and her titles are translated into several languages.
Title: Blackbird Author: Mia Kerick Series: If I Fell #2 Genre: LGBTQ+ Contemporary Romance
Sequel to Hide Your Love Away (If I Fell Series, book 2)
Timmy and Cole’s angsty love story continues…
Last year, in Timmy Hale’s junior year at Edgewater University, he set his romantic sights on Colton “Cole” Ledger—a burly and sometimes over-protective dormitory maintenance man. Cole soon had it bad for sleek and snarky Timmy too, and—despite a bumpy road (a frenzied stalker and an uncooperative son)—before year’s end they’d found love. Now, in Timmy’s senior year, the couple has left the dormitory behind. Cole is back to running his own custom construction company, and they’ve turned an antique Victorian home into a love nest. For a while, life is good.
But insta-love comes at a cost, and for Timmy and Cole it’s steep. Cole’s doubts haunt him: he’s almost certain he’s too old for Timmy, and that he’s pushing him into a life he’ll eventually resent, keeping him from spreading his newfound wings and taking flight toward his best future. Acting on his fears, Cole pressures Timmy to accept an internship in Manhattan—far from the home they’ve built together. He means well, but Timmy feels like a baby bird kicked out of the nest too soon.
Tensions rise until fear, resentment, and desire draw Timmy and Cole into explosive conflict. When the dust settles, will Timmy wing away like a young blackbird, or return to nest with Cole in their happy garden home?
Stay tuned for Book 3 in the IF I FELL Series, Come Together, coming in January, 2022.
Then the body in the bed rolls over in the direction of the door, and I see Timmy’s face. Not the same face I last saw—he’s pale and gaunt with dark rings encircling his eyes.
Although I’m shocked by the sight of him, the last thing I want to do is to shock him. So, I speak softly, “Timmy, wake up.”
His lashes flutter, and then his red rimmed eyes pop open and focus on me. “Fuck—I’m either dead or dreaming.”
“You’re very much alive…and awake.” I try to smile. “Want me to pinch you to prove it?”
“It…it might help.”
I step over to the bed. “May I sit down?”
“I guess.”
I perch my ass on the edge and administer a quick pinch to his upper arm.
“Okay, so I’m not dreaming. You’re really here. Now tell me why.” His breath reeks of stale whiskey.
No sooner has he issued his demand than he’s shoving me off the bed.
“Trash can—now!”
I jump to my feet, grab the trash can, and hold it beneath his face. Timmy proceeds to lose everything in his belly.
When he’s done, he falls back onto the bed. “I owe this Greg-dude a new waste basket.”
“I’ll take care of it. And I’ll pay for a thorough cleaning of his room.” It smells like a brewery in here, and God knows when the bedding was last changed. “But that’s the least of your worries right now.”
“I don’t get why you’re here, Cole.”
“I’m here because you need me.” And I need you.
Timmy shrugs and mumbles a predictable, “Whatever.”
“You’re coming with me. We’re gonna go somewhere you can get back on your feet without an audience.” No Robbie, EJ, Landon, or Beverly.
“No can do…Gotta work tomorrow.”
I shake my head. “Timmy, I don’t know how you feel about me at this point. And right now, I don’t much care because I’m pretty sure that, at a minimum, you still trust me to do right by you. No matter how much I screwed up. Will you come with me?”
He swallows hard and again reaches for the trash can. This time it’s a false alarm. “I…uh, don’t think I can get out of bed.”
“I’ll help you. My truck is right outside.”
“You drove here to save my sorry ass?” “I did.” And I should have done it weeks ago.
Mia Kerick is the mother of four exceptional children–all named after saints–and five nonpedigreed cats–all named after the next best thing to saints, Boston Red Sox players. Her husband of twenty years has been told by many that he has the patience of Job, but don’t ask Mia about that, as it is a sensitive subject.
Mia focuses her stories on the emotional growth of troubled young men and their relationships, and she believes that sex has a place in a love story, but not until it is firmly established as a love story. As a teen, Mia filled spiral-bound notebooks with romantic tales of tortured heroes (most of whom happened to strongly resemble lead vocalists of 1980s big-hair bands) and stuffed them under her mattress for safekeeping. She is thankful to Dreamspinner Press for providing her with an alternate place to stash her stories.
Mia is proud of her involvement with the Human Rights Campaign and cheers for each and every victory made in the name of marital equality. Her only major regret: never having taken typing or computer class in school, destining her to a life consumed with two-fingered pecking and constant prayer to the Gods of Technology.
My themes I always write about:
Sweetness. Unconventional love, tortured/damaged heroes- only love can save them.
Mia Kerick focuses her stories on the emotional growth of troubled young men within the boundaries of blossoming, supportive relationships. She believes that sex has a place in a love story, but not until it is firmly established as a love story. And Mia’s stories are centered around a certain theme: even heroes can be sweet. Sweet, but not completely innocent.
