Spotlight: The Forgotten Fairytales by Angela Parkhurst

Genre: YA Fantasy
Release Date: February 10th 2014

Once upon a time, seventeen-year-old Norah Hart believed in the lure of fairytales and happily ever afters. That was before she was forced to live in a fairy tale nightmare.

A psychotic, couture-clad, shoe obsessed Princess.
A not-so-charming, alcoholic Prince.
A hot Big Bad Wolf that she absolutely cannot fall for—no matter how well he kisses.

If Norah had known she’d be attending a boarding school for the nut job reincarnations of fairy tale characters, she would have insisted on going to Moscow with her father. But getting out isn’t as easy as she thought. Especially once Norah realizes she, too, is a storybook character. An Unknown. The first one in over one hundred years. Soon Norah learns she has the ability to rewrite the stories, putting everyone’s Happily Ever After in jeopardy.

Some princesses will do whatever it takes to protect their endings. Even if it means betraying the one closest to you.

About the Author

I am the author of the Forgotten Fairytales series. 
I love reading YA and NA books. I have 2 toddler boys, 2 mini doxins & I'm married to my high school sweetheart. I have an obsession with books, Disney, and am fueled by a wicked coffee addiction. 

In addition to YA fantasy, I write contemporary young adult and new adult novels.

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Spotlight: The Dark at the End by Susan Adrian

Genre: YA Thriller
Release Date: September 27th 2016

Continuing the critically acclaimed story of TUNNEL VISION: 

Jake thinks he has only one more step and he’ll be free: he has to get the serum to stop his ability to tunnel—to find and control people through objects. But Jake’s contact has been killed, and there's no sign of the serum. Then Jake’s mom and little sister Myka are kidnapped, right under his nose. With the government, his power-mad father, and the terrifying Mr. Smith all after him while he still has his power, he doesn’t have anywhere to turn. 

What will Jake do to get his mom and little sister back? 

Anything.

Excerpt

Dedushka stares at the door, frowning. He knocks again. Rachel slips her hand into mine. It’s damp—everything’s damp. I can feel the sweat dripping down my back. But I squeeze.

We wait, listening for the sound of footsteps coming towards us. It suddenly reminds me of Halloween, standing on a porch with Myka holding my hand, both of us in ridiculously complex costumes courtesy of Mom. Waiting for footsteps to bring us candy.

This is a different kind of candy, but I still want it.

I step forward and try the door. Locked. I glance at Dedushka.

“Perhaps he waits for us inside.” He scratches at his beard. “We try the back.”

He strides down the steps, around the carport side. We follow, slower. Looking everywhere.

“Yakob.” Dedushka’s voice is spiked with urgency. When we get to the back, Dedushka stands there holding the door open, looking in. “It is wrong,” he says. “Be careful.” He goes in, stepping lightly. I go up, see what he means, and let go of Rachel’s hand.

It’s trashed. Unless Vladimir is a really messy housekeeper, someone’s been here before us. The door opens into a kitchen, and every surface, almost every inch of the floor, is covered with silverware, shards of glass, scraps of paper. The drawers and cupboards are open. Even the refrigerator is open, pumping cold air uselessly into the room. I close it, then follow Dedushka. Rachel follows me.

They were looking for the serum. They had to be, with everything searched through like this. Jesus, how did they know about the old man and the serum?

Dedushka keeps moving forward, slowly. I move too, even though every cell in my body wants to stop and run away like my legs are on fire. They might still be here. They might take me again, shove me underground again. End everything.

Rachel is silent behind me.

I keep walking. Dedushka looks in a front bedroom, left off a short hall. He moves on, to the last room. I poke my head in the front one too. It’s a trophy room, or it was before it all got turned over. Baseball stuff, bats and balls and gloves and tickets, hundreds of tickets. I can see spaces on the wall where frames must’ve hung, but now they’re on the floor with everything else, shattered.

Dedushka makes a strangled noise from the back bedroom, and I jump for the door. I stop short when I see, Rachel at my shoulder. She screams, small, before she cuts it off.

Vladimir is sprawled on his back across the bed, a gunshot hole in the middle of his forehead.

About the Author

Susan Adrian is a 4th-generation Californian who somehow stumbled into living in Montana. In the past she danced in a ballet company and worked in the fields of exotic pet-sitting, clothes-schlepping, and bookstore management. She’s settled in, mostly, as a scientific editor. When she’s not with her family, she keeps busy researching spy stuff, learning Russian, traveling, and writing more books.

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Spotlight: In Safe Hands by Katie Ruggle

He was her hero,
But one wrong move ended their future before it could begin.
Now he'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe,
Even if that means turning against one of his own.
 
As a member of the Field County Sheriff's Department, Chris Jennings is used to having it rough. The Colorado Rockies aren't for the weak-of-spirit, but he's devoted his life to upholding the law—and to protecting the one woman he knows he can never have. He'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe.
 
Daisy Little has lived in agoraphobic terror for over eight years. Trapped within a prison of her own making, she watches time pass through her bedroom window. Daisy knows she'll never be a part of the world...until the day she becomes the sole witness of a terrible crime that may finally tear the Search & Rescue brotherhood apart for gbod.

Excerpt

When their laughter faded, the silence reminded Daisy of the purpose of Lou’s visit. “Did Chris tell you why he thought we should talk?”

“Not really,” Lou said. “He called me this morning and said it would behoove me to swing by Daisy Little’s house to chat, and that he’d ‘warned’ you I’d be coming. There were lots of meaningful pauses, but I had no clue what he was getting at. He was being very un-Chris-like in his vagueness, but he was pretty insistent about me talking to you. When I told him that Callum had the truck, Chris even picked me up from my house and drove me here.”

“He told me he couldn’t talk about the Willard Gray case, but that I should talk to you.”

Lou’s eyes lit, and she leaned toward Daisy. “Do you know something about the case? I’m doing a whole Encyclopedia Brown thing, ever since I discovered poor Willard.”

“Encyclopedia…what?”

Waving off the question, Lou tilted so far forward that Daisy was afraid she’d topple over. “I’ve been looking into Willard Gray’s murder, even before we knew who he was. Callum and I put together a murder board and everything.”

The more Lou explained things, the more confused Daisy got. “A murder board?”

“It’s just a whiteboard with everything we know about the case. I snuck a couple of my less wild theories on there, too, much to Callum’s dismay. He’s more of a just-the-facts kind of guy.”

“O-kay.” Daisy took a sip of coffee to give her a chance to digest some of what Lou had just thrown at her. “So, Chris wants me to tell you what I saw this morning so you can add it to your killer board?”

“Murder board.” Lou was actually bouncing on her sofa cushion. Daisy understood why she’d declined caffeine. Even without it, Lou looked about ready to rocket into space. “What did you see this morning? Did Chris actually think it was related to Willard’s case? You need to start spilling immediately. I’m dying here!”

“I’m spilling! I’m spilling!” Daisy hurried to explain before Lou started levitating. “I think I saw someone moving a body.”

Lou went perfectly still before shrieking, “What??”

Wincing, Daisy shot the other woman a look.

“Sorry,” Lou mumbled through the fingers she’d clapped over her mouth. After a few deep breaths, she let her hand drop back to her lap. “I get excited when someone mentions dead bodies. Oh, wow, that just went to a really wrong place, didn’t it? Okay, so forget my disturbing remark and get back to your story. I promise there will be no more screaming, unless you reveal something totally shocking. Let’s just say that I will attempt to keep my verbal exclamation points to a minimum, how about that?”

“Um…sure. This morning, around three thirty, I saw someone loading what looked like a tarp-wrapped body into a sheriff’s department vehicle.”

Instead of screaming, Lou just stared, her mouth open. Daisy sipped her coffee and let the other woman process the information. After several moments passed, Lou finally moved. She set her water bottle on the coffee table with the utmost care. Pulling her cell phone out of her back jeans pocket, she jabbed at the screen and then put the cell to her ear.

“Cal,” Lou said into her phone, “you need to bring the whiteboard over to Daisy Little’s house. I’m getting vital information here. I need my markers.” Her forehead creased at his response. “The whiteboard is an important part of our investigation team, Cal. We need him here.” She continued in an overly patient tone, as if the answer should’ve been obvious. “Of course the whiteboard is male. I named him Emerson.” Lou paused again. “Because someone named Emerson has to be intelligent. So, are you up for a whiteboard delivery?”

By Lou’s crestfallen expression, Daisy was pretty sure the answer was “no.” “Fine. I still love you, even if you are leaving me lost and whiteboardless.” She glanced at Daisy and gave her an apologetic look, mouthing no whiteboard. “Daisy Little’s house. Uh-huh. That Daisy Little.” Absently, she reached out with her free hand and started turning her water bottle in circles. “Deputy Chris drove me here. He was being really insistent in a weird and vague way about how I needed to talk to Daisy. Apparently, she saw a deputy moving a dead body really early this morning.” Lou listened for a minute. “That’s okay. Chris can give me a ride ho—fine! I’ll call you. You know,” her tone turned crafty, “if I bought that old International pickup I want, you wouldn’t have to be my taxi service.” Her disappointed, no-whiteboard frown returned. “But it’s adorable. Who needs modern safety features when I’m driving something so awesome? Yes. Okay. We’ll argue about this later. I need to get all the body-moving details from Daisy now.” Lou looked a little too excited about the prospect. “Uh-huh. Love you, too. Bye.”

After poking at her phone again, Lou tucked it into her back pocket. “No whiteboard.”

Daisy snorted. “I got that.”

“Do you have a notebook or a piece of paper or something?” Lou asked. “I know I’m not going to remember everything.”

“Sure.” Daisy retrieved a small notebook and a pen from the junk drawer in the kitchen and offered them to Lou before taking her seat on the couch again.

“Perfect. Thank you.” Lou flipped open the notebook cover. “Now tell me everything."

About the Author

When she’s not writing, KATIE RUGGLE rides horses, shoots guns, and travels to warm places where she can SCUBA dive. Graduating from the Police Academy, Katie received her ice-rescue certification and can attest that the reservoirs in the Colorado Mountains really are that cold. While she still misses her off-the-grid, solar- and wind-powered house in the Rocky Mountains, she now lives in Rochester, Minnesota near her family.

Spotlight: The Secret Lives of Rockstars by Suzanne Lazear

Genre: NA Urban Fantasy/Elfpunk
Release Date: September 26th 2016
Leap Books: Shine

Saving the world, one tour stop at a time.

Eighteen-year-old Bitsy Butler has never quite fit in, not with the dragons who raised her, the druid who took her in, or even with the non-human members of the cirque noir punk band she thinks of as family. Her chance to prove she can make it on her own comes with her band's first big solo tour. It’s all going according to plan when an angel walks into a bar and demands help with his demon problem. 

If she doesn't step up, a magical war will break out, threatening Arizona and all those who call it home. With the help of a human, a sexy dragon, and the members of her band, Bitsy must stop an angry mob of chaos demons before the band leaves for their next tour stop.

It’s nice to be needed, but Bitsy has no idea how to defeat the demons and she just might get herself killed trying. But then, at least one problem would be solved...

Fitting in doesn’t matter if you’re dead.

About the Author

Suzanne Lazear spins tales of the fantastic. She’s the author of the New Adult Elfpunk The Secret Lives of Rockstars (Leap Books) and the YA dark fairytale steampunk series The Aether Chronicles (Flux). Suzanne lives in Southern California with her daughter and husband where she’s trying to make tiny dragons out of wool. One day she’ll actually create a working cupcake cannon.

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Excerpt: Somewhere to Begin by Mika Jolie

Can two souls with fractured parts be the best cure for each other’s wounds? Find out the first book in Mika Jolie’s latest #contemporaryromance series, Poison and Wine, with SOMEWHERE TO BEGIN.

Synopsis

There are wounds that never show on the body.

For twenty-nine years, Colbie Bennington does as expected with an eternal smile stained on her lips. The biggest chances she’s ever taken can be counted on one hand, three fingers to be exact—her battered red chucks, painting her toenails a vibrant blue, and her wedding dress. Always the dutiful daughter and a Stepford fiancée, she has never acted on impulse, never been in love.

She’s never lived.

On her wedding day, Colbie ends a toxic relationship, drops the fake smile, and says, “I can’t do this anymore.”

Navy SEAL Zander Serrano returns home broken and burdened with a volcano of remorse. Too trapped in a mental war to be at peace and too damaged to be at war, he shuts the world out. The last thing he expects is to feel, especially for a runaway bride with her own baggage.

Two empty hearts marred in different spots find themselves drawn to one another. Each with their own scars.  Some, the world can see. Others, unseen to the naked eye.

They say two broken people should not be together. But for Colbie and Zander, their attraction is undeniable, unexpected.

Can two souls with fractured parts be the best cure for each other’s wounds?

Starting over is never easy, but sometimes in life, everyone needs somewhere to begin.

Excerpt

Guilt was the first thing that came to Zander. Had he not blacked out, she would have never skidded off the road to avoid a rear-end collision with his truck. But remorse only played a small role in his daily visits. Something about her made him feel as if he were looking at his soul, cracked and damaged, holding on by the last frayed thread.

He continued to assess her. Hair,the color of piano keys, tumbled like beached kelp after a storm, ruffled but certainly not in a way usually shown on the cover of a magazine. He could tell she’d been through hell—the ugly bruises on her arms marred the pink softness of her delicate skin, the wedding dress, the lack of visitors—but that only gave her beauty an edge. It felt immoral to look upon her, and yet he found it equally unrighteous to look away.

She wore pain like it was the grandest of diamonds around her neck.

Colbie Bennington was a wounded bird, and if there was one thing Zander couldn’t  resist, it was being the hero.  He’d always been a magnet for trouble but not troubled women. Playing the White Knight or falling for helpless women had never been his thing either.

Common sense told him each day not to return to the hospital. For two days, he’d been the only one here. He knew. He checked each time. He had a sister and there was Paige Harris—the woman he considered as much a sibling as Lily. Between those three women, he’d developed some deep intuitive understanding of the female gender, when something was wrong. Colbie was running from something.

And maybe because pain recognized pain, he saw she was broken. For the first time since returning home, Zander felt emotion, hot and all-consuming.  His need-to-protect radar was going off full tilt. A pointless task, he tried to tell himself, but his subconscious remained stubborn. He couldn’t help it; he was conditioned.

“I want to make sure you’re safe,” he said, and for a moment, he actually felt as if he’d discovered his destiny.

About Mika Jolie

Mika Jolie is the bestselling author of the Martha’s Way series. She lives in New Jersey with her Happy Chaos—her husband and their energizer bunnies. A sports fanatic and a wine aficionado, she’s determined to balance it all and still write about life experiences and matters of the heart. Let’s face it, people are complicated and love can be messy. When she’s not weaving life and romance into evocative tales, you can find her on a hiking adventure, apple picking, or whatever her three men can conjure up.

She loves to hear from readers.

Connect with Mika:  Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon Author Page

Spotlight: Points of Departure by Emily O'Beirne

In this young adult novel, to be released June 2016, best friends Kit and Liza have been looking forward to this trip forever.

Five girls, five tickets overseas. It’s exactly what they all need after the final slog of high school. But when Kit’s suddenly forced to drop out,

Liza’s left with three girls she barely knows. 

There’s Mai, committed only to partying. There’s Tam, who already has her doubts about leaving her sick father behind. And there’s Olivia, so miserable about screwing up exams she’s not even sure she wants to get out of bed, let alone on a plane. Meanwhile Kit’s stuck working double shifts to pay off a debt, wondering if she’ll ever get it together.

All Liza wants from this trip is to discover a new version of herself. She just hadn’t planned on doing it without Kit by her side. 

And they’re all learning that travel isn’t just about the places you go, but who you’re with at the time. 

Excerpt

Liza finishes sorting her washing, climbs onto the bed, and kicks her legs over Kit’s.

Kit runs her hands along Liza’s sharp, brown shinbones, feeling that familiar bubbling of envy at her friend’s ridiculously great legs. Why can’t she have a body like that, instead of this short, scrawny one?

“You have to help me pack,” Liza says. “Promise?”

“Of course.” Kit pouts. “And you have to promise you won’t have too much fun without me.”

“Highly doubtful.” Liza inspects the ends of her hair, pulling the wiry coils straight.

“And you won’t find a new best friend?”

Liza just looks at her. “I’ll be gone four weeks, Kit. Four weeks. I’m just hoping I can manage a conversation with these girls, let alone to make friends with them.”

“You’ll be fine,” Kit tells her for the thousandth time. “Mai’s fun. Tam’s a sweetheart, even if she seems tough. And Olivia’s awesome.”

Kit frowns as she thinks of Olivia yesterday. Kit’s never seen her friend so miserable. Olivia’s usually so assured and self-sufficient. But she’s so messed up over her exams and Will. Poor thing. She wants to tell Liza to look out for her while they’re away, but Olivia begged Kit not to tell anyone about exams. So instead, she just says, “Hey, Olivia might seem kind of, I don’t know, distant or whatever, but she’s going through some stuff, that’s all. Give her a chance. You’ll like her.”

Liza shrugs, like she’s only half listening, and continues to inspect her split ends.

Kit taps her fingers on Liza’s leg. “Anyway, who knows? Maybe you’ll meet someone on this trip. Have an exotic one-night stand with some Mediterranean hottie.”

“Maybe.” She stares out the window, her eyes closing against the sunlight streaming through the window. “Doubt it.”

Kit watches the pink staining her best friend’s cheeks fade slowly.

Liza’s cheeks were even pinker the night of the end-of-school party, when she dragged Kit out to sit on the kerb, an uncharacteristic bottle clutched in her hand, and told her about this Alika girl.

The fact that her best friend was telling her that she had spent the last couple of months in some fraught, unspoken thing with a girl didn’t surprise her, exactly. But that Liza was finally saying anything to her about it did.

The fact that Liza might be gay had crossed Kit’s mind a couple of times over the years. It would explain why she’s so damn shy around guys. And it would explain why, at eighteen, she’s never had a boyfriend despite some of the incredible talent Kit has spotted at those athletics comps.

But even though she’d thought about it, Kit never said anything—in case it hadn’t actually occurred to Liza yet. And Kit had known that her best friend would tell her if and when she had anything to tell her.

And that turned out to be the night of their final classes. Liza was so drunk and fevered with her need to tell Kit about this mess she had gotten herself in, she skated right past the liking-girls news. Instead, she went straight to the part where she had started some clandestine thing with a girl in her training squad, an impossibly withdrawn, beautiful nineteen-year-old who was apparently barely willing to admit she was a lesbian to herself, let alone to someone else.

Kit kept her arm wrapped tightly around her Liza’s waist as she told Kit about this girl. Liza swiped tears from her eyes, telling her how the only time this girl seemed to acknowledge Liza was when she was jumping her in the car after competitions or climbing into her bed at night at the training institute. Not that Liza didn’t want to be doing that, she said. She just didn’t want it like that. And Kit just held on and let her cry it out. And when the tears were done, Kit wiped the tears from her friends face and told her to dump her.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later that they even broached the topic of Liza being gay in general, when Liza admitted how nervous she was about coming out to her parents, and about dropping two big revelations on them at once. But by then her coming out to Kit just didn’t seem like a thing. So why make it one? At that point, the fact that Liza had stopped talking to this girl who kept treating her like crap seemed way more important than workshopping her sexuality. That kind of seemed like a done deal at this point.

“Hey, does Alika know you’re leaving next week?” she asks

Liza shrugs. “Don’t know, don’t care.”

“Good,” Kit tells her, even if she doesn’t one hundred per cent believe her.

She looks over at her friend. She’s gazing out the window, a small frown on her face. Kit hopes Liza does meet someone. Someone who likes her out loud and who makes her feel like the awesome, beautiful person she is. She deserves it. Maybe even needs it a little. She’s the sweetest, most quietly funny and wickedly insightful person Kit has ever met in her life. And she thought that about Liza when they were eight. Now Liza and the rest of the world need to know it.

“I wish you were coming with us,” Liza suddenly moans.

“So do I.” Who wouldn’t choose four weeks of travelling in Europe over four weeks of working double shifts all week to pay off one party? Not even a good party. A party where she found Liam lying in the bath fully dressed with that stupidly hot Rachel perched on the end with her perfect pixie hair and MAC red lips.

Liza shifts across the bed so she’s lying next to Kit. She wraps her hands around Kit’s arm and squeezes it. “You were, like, the social glue.”

“I know,” she says again, resting her head against her friend’s shoulder. Kit’s already keenly aware Liza’s terrified she won’t get along with the others. What she doesn’t know is that everyone feels like that. Her cousin was furious when Kit broke the news. Olivia was even more depressed, and Mai told her outright that she was a stupid, freaking idiot.

She sighs. She will get her shit together this summer. She will. She grabs her friend’s hand and shakes it. “I’m so sorry, Lize,” she says for the zillionth time.

“It’s okay,” Liza says softly.

They lie there in a shaft of muted late afternoon sun. Kit listens to Liza breathe slowly next to her. She’s going to miss her so much.

“I’ll miss you,” Liza whispers, as if she’s heard her thoughts.

Kit snuggles up to her friend and smiles. “I’ll miss you, too.”

About the Author

Thirteen-year-old Emily woke up one morning with a sudden itch to write her first novel. All day, she sat through her classes, feverishly scribbling away (her rare silence probably a cherished respite for her teachers). And by the time the last bell rang, she had penned fifteen handwritten pages of angsty drivel, replete with blood-red sunsets, moody saxophone music playing somewhere far off in the night, and abandoned whiskey bottles rolling across tables. Needless to say, that singular literary accomplishment is buried in a box somewhere, ready for her later amusement.

From Melbourne, Australia, Emily was recently granted her PhD. She works part-time in academia, where she hates marking papers but loves working with her students. She also loves where she lives but travels as much as possible and tends to harbour crushes on cities more than on people.

Living in an apartment, Emily sadly does not possess her dream writing room overlooking an idyllic garden of her creation. Instead, she spends a lot of her time staring over the screen of her laptop and out the window at the somewhat less pretty (but highly entertaining) combined kebab stand/carwash across the road. (from the publisher’s website) 

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