Spotlight: Grimm Woods by D. Melhoff

About the Book

A remote summer camp becomes a lurid crime scene when the bodies of two teenagers are found in a bloody, real-life rendering of a classic Grimm’s fairy tale. Trapped in the wilderness, the remaining counsellors must follow a trail of dark children’s fables in order to outwit a psychopath and save the dwindling survivors before falling prey to their own gruesome endings.

Drawing on the grisly, uncensored details of history’s most famous fairy tales, Grimm Woods is a heart-pounding thriller about a deranged killer who uses traditional children’s stories as tropes in elaborate murders. Set against the backdrop of modern-day Michigan, it’s a journey through the mind of a dangerous zealot and a shocking glimpse into the bedtime stories you thought you knew.

Excerpt

July 7th, 5:44 a.m.

One hacksaw. One hammer, six boxes of nails. Twelve Mason jars, four hunting knives, two pairs of handcuffs. Fifteen gallons of gasoline divided evenly among three dented jerry cans.

It’s time.

A work glove hovered over the table where the objects were laid out side by side and began ticking the air as though marking off an invisible checklist. The chamber reeked of mildew, and the walls had no windows or electrical sockets—no lamps, no wires, no switch covers. A single red candle provided the only light, its crimson wax dripping down its shaft like blood.

The hand picked up a piece of paper from the table and slipped it into a blank envelope. Below, a beetle scuttled across the floorboards. The insect—its gangly antennae tuned to some foul frequency in the gloom—raced past the sole of a giant boot just as a drop of liquid fell through the air and struck it dead center, engulfing its body in a hot, gelatinous blob that filled its orifices and burned it from the inside out. Another droplet tumbled from the candle, plopping onto the envelope this time, and then a brass stamp came down and pressed the wax into a hardened seal.

Drawing in heavier, raspier breaths, the figure held the envelope up to a corkboard that was bolted to the wall. More than a dozen pictures of young men and women were tacked to the panel by their throats and foreheads, smiling in the shadows.

The figure pinned the envelope to the board and stepped back to take in the room again.

The table and the switchblade.

The book of matches.

The iron rods, the hatchet, the .22 Smith & Wesson.

The smiling faces.

Now, the figure mused, watching the photographs flicker in the bloodred light. Who’s the nicest, who’s the worst, who wants to hear a story first?

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About the Author

D. Melhoff was born in a prairie ghost town that few people have heard of and even fewer have visited. While most of his stories are for adults, he also enjoys terrifying younger audiences from time to time, as seen in his series of twisted picture books for children. He credits King, Poe, Hitchcock, Harris, Stoker, and his second grade school teacher, Mrs. Lake, for turning him to horror. 

Connect: Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads | Instagram

Excerpt: Edge of Yesterday by Sue-Ellen Welfonder and Tarah Scott

Series: Edge Series, Book 1
Book Type: Fiction
Genre: Historical Romance, Time Travel
Publisher: Broken Arm Publishing
Publication Date: December 27, 2016

Synopsis

Two of Scottish romance’s most loved authors have joined pens to write a thrilling new time travel series filled with passion, danger, and intrigue. These never-before-published novels will sweep you to Scotland’s Highland Heatheredge, where magic is real, time is relevant, and there is no escape from desire…
 
Men are disappearing in the Highland crofting village of Heatheredge. The authorities suspect foul play, but without signs of violence—or bodies—they can’t prove a thing.
 
World champion swordsman Cailean Ross is living the fantasy of a lifetime as the victor of Heatheredge’s medieval reenactment Gathering. But when the fantasy turns into reality, swordplay becomes a fight to the death and he finds himself among the ‘missing’ statistics.
 
Julianna Mackay flees a man she fears is an evil wizard and literally runs into handsome Cailean Ross. Cailean defends Lady Julianna from her attackers. Together, they set out in search of the key to a six-hundred-year-old curse that can only be broken in medieval Scotland.
 
When the veil of time is lifted, Cailean and Julianna find that love may not be enough to save them or those they hold dear.

Excerpt

She preceded him into the kitchen and stopped at sight of Cailean, hip leaning against the heavy oaken table where Sue pounded bread.

“Ye are a rogue, Cailean.” The dark-haired girl laughed a husky, sensual laugh.

Cailean laid a hand over his heart. “Ye wound me, lass.”

“Cailean, since you are here playing with the lasses, ye can make yourself useful,” Cook said.

“I am at your service, madam.”

Cook gave him a stern look that didn’t quite mask the smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Julianna stared. Cook was ancient. Surely she wasn’t charmed by the man? He clearly enjoyed being the center of the women’s attention, but that was like a man. Still, she had been certain he had some affection for her. Why— Then she knew why. Sir Lawren hovered at her side. Someone told Cailean that Sir Lawren courted her. Lennox—no, she realized as quickly as the thought formed. After last night, Lennox couldn’t be amenable to the match. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t allow Cailean to believe there was more between her and Sir Lawren than there was. She would have a long talk with her brother.

“Bring those oats over here, Cailean.” Cook pointed to a sack of oats in the corner near the kitchen door.

Sue’s eyes shifted to Julianna and Cailean looked in her direction.

He straightened from the table.  “My lady.”

The amusement died from his expression. Aye, something had definitely changed between them.

Cook and the other women looked her way. Sweet Jesu, they had been so enthralled with him that they hadn’t noticed her presence. Sue yanked her attention to the bread she was kneading.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself, Cailean.”

Sir Lawren stiffened beside her and she realized her mistake. Julianna went to the table and set down the eggs. Cailean seemed to break from a spell and hurried to the corner and fetched the bag of oats.

“Thank ye, Cailean,” Cook said.

Julianna glimpsed the side-look Sue cast in his direction. This time, he seemed oblivious of her attention. He also wasn’t looking in Julianna’s direction. She would take care of that. First, however, she had to send Sir Lawren on his way.

Julianna strode from the kitchen and wasn’t surprised when the knight followed.

“Lady Julianna,” he said when they’d taken a few steps, “I would speak with you alone.”

She glimpsed the handful of knights sitting near the hearth and her cheeks warmed when two of the men glanced in their direction. Heaven help her, Lawren was either going to propose or try to make love to her. Now was not the time for either.

“Forgive me, Sir Lawren, I forgot to give Cook instructions for the evening meal. My mother invited guests.” A blatant lie, but one that would save her a great deal of trouble. “Can we talk later—or tomorrow, perhaps? I have much work today.” She turned and headed back to the kitchen.

She got three steps when he called, “Lady Julianna.”

Julianna feared he would come after her. She glanced over her shoulder. “Please, my lord, I—”

His eyes widened and he took a step toward her. “My lady—”

She yanked her attention toward the kitchen and got a mouthful of shirt and hard muscle. Something thudded onto her feet. She cried out as strong fingers seized her arms. Julianna snapped her head up and met Cailean’s gaze.

“Are you all right, my lady?” he demanded.

His brow furrowed and the concern in his eyes made her knees go weak. Something struck her foot and she looked down to see apples scattered across the floor. A burlap bag lay half across their feet and half on the floor.

She lifted her face to Cailean’s. “Apples.”

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bout the Author

USA Today and Internationally bestselling authors Sue-Ellen Welfonder and Tarah Scott have more in common than friendship. For many years, they’ve both enjoyed spending their working hours in a world of romance and adventure, bringing handsome Highlanders and their ladies to life. Now they’ve joined pens, deciding that when it comes to happily-ever-afters, two writers can stir up even more danger and desire for the characters they love. The EDGE series, Scottish time travel romances, is their first co-authored project, and launches Dec. 27th with EDGE OF YESTERDAY.
 
Connect with Sue-Ellen: Website | Facebook | Twitter
 
Connect with Tarah Scott: Website | Facebook | Twitter

Giveaway
 
Date: January 6 - February 11, 2017
 
Prize:
1. $25 Amazon Gift Card
2. Five (5) Edge of Yesterday eBooks
3. One (1) Edge of Yesterday signed paperback

Free: Amoveo Legend series by Sara Humphreys

Have you ever read a Sara Humphreys' Amoveo novel? Well if you haven't, it's time to change that! In Sara Humphreys' upcoming release Undiscovered, Sara introduces readers to a new Dragon Clan by blending them into her bestselling Amoveo world. Today it's time for you to Discover Sara Humphreys! For today only, the entire Amoveo Legend series will be FREE on all e-tailers. 

Sit back, relax, and discover Sara Humphrey's award winning series! 

Enjoy! 

Download the entire Amoveo Legend series for free: 
Kindle
NOOK
iBooks

He’s the man of her dreams

A long time ago, Zander Lorens was cursed to walk the earth stripped of his Dragon Clan powers. Every night, trapped in a recurring nightmare, Zander relives his darkest moment. He can hardly believe it when the dream changes and a beautiful young woman appears. Zander believes she’s the key to ending his torment. Finding her in the real world is one thing, but how will he convince her of who—and what—she really is?

She’s the end to his nightmare

Rena McHale uses her unique sensitivity as a private investigator, touting herself as a “human divining rod” and finder of the lost. By day she struggles with sensory overload, and by night her sleep is haunted by a fiery dragon shifter. Nothing in her life makes sense, until the man from her dreams shows up at her door with a proposition…

Available March 7th

Excerpt

Chapter 1

Mine. The deep, gravelly voice of the beast reverberated through the air and ripped through Rena’s mind, with terrifying force. Mine. Mine. Mine.

The ferocious, ear-splitting roars of the winged monsters rumbled through the forest and the earth trembled as the vicious battle raged on. The nightmare had persisted for months, and even though she was all too familiar with how it would play out, it continued to horrify her.

Frightened and exhausted, Rena McHale crouched behind the trunk of the towering pine tree and prayed they wouldn’t see her this time. Her heart thundered in her chest, and she pressed her hands against her ears, attempting to drown out the stomach-churning bellows of the monsters. Sweat trickled down her back, and she kept her eyes squeezed shut, trying to slow her breathing. She had been here countless times before, and though the nightmare was always the same, Rena prayed this time would be different.

It wouldn’t be. They would find her and they would kill her. She would wake up, terrified and drowning in pain, seconds after being swallowed by a sea of agonizing flames.

Wicked heat flashed behind her and seared her shoulder. She bit her lip and swallowed the scream, but she didn’t move from her hiding spot. The snarls and sharp sounds of gnashing teeth had gotten closer. Dirt, leaves, and bits of rock rained over her as an enormous clawed foot skidded past as one beast slammed into the other. Shrieks of fury filled the forest and the sound was more than she could bear because Rena knew what would come next. There would be nothing except excruciating pain while she burned alive.

“Not again,” she whimpered. “Shit, not again.”

The monster scrambled to its feet, and Rena opened her eyes in time to see its long spiked tail whip past. She yelped as the weapon-like appendage slammed into the tree above her head, and bits of bark showered down, stinging her skin.

“No more! Stop it!” The words ripped from her lungs in scream after scream, and she shut her eyes, not wanting to see the fire this time. “Go away and leave me alone! I want to wake up. Help! Someone, please help me! I can’t take it anymore.”

Rena didn’t know how long she sat there, screaming the words over and over again. She fully expected the fire to claim her as it had every time before. But this time, the flames didn’t come.

Exquisite silence filled the air, and other than the sound of her own breathing, Rena heard nothing. The earth no longer trembled, there was no more snarling or growling, and instead of fire, a cool mist drifted over her bare arms like a soothing blanket. Though her heart still beat wildly against her rib cage, Rena finally found the courage to open her eyes. The woods were now bathed in golden rays of sunlight, and a white fog rolled low along the ground, covering any evidence of the destructive battle that had been raging only moments ago.

With trembling hands, Rena pushed her stiff body off the ground and stood on shaky legs. She brushed leaves and dirt off the back of her pajama pants and her tank top, the outfit she had gone to sleep in that night. She gripped the tree trunk, the bark rough beneath her palms, and looked around warily, half expecting the beasts to spring out at her from between the trees, but she was alone.

“That’s it?” Her voice shook and sounded odd as it broke the silence. “All I had to do was have a crybaby fit to make those two assholes vanish?”

The words were barely out of her mouth when the earth shook with the familiar thunderous footsteps of the monsters.

“Oh great,” Rena whispered. She pressed her back against the tree before peering around the trunk in search of the threat. Another tremor rattled the ground and the tree branches wavered above as her heartbeat picked up. “Wake up, girl. Come on. Wake the hell up.”

Run. The man’s voice, a deep, gritty baritone, whispered around Rena out of nowhere, making her go completely still. This was new. Right now. You can’t let him find you. Not like this. He won’t understand.

Her eyes flicked open, and she scanned the dark, misty woods for the source of the voice. “Who won’t understand what?”

As far as she could see, there was no one there but her. Rena gasped as another tremor rocked the earth so hard she almost lost her footing. It was getting closer.

Now! His voice, filled with urgency and a hint of impatience, seemed to come from nowhere and yet he was everywhere. Run, woman. Move!

Another tremor. Stronger now. Dangerously close.

“Where the hell am I supposed to run?” Rena asked in a shaky whisper. “This is a nightmare, and there’s no place to run to, unless I wake up. Which I would love to do, by the way.”

A brilliant crimson light flashed past the trees to her left, like a mirror glinting in the sun, and that’s when she felt it.

The spirit stream.

The warm, soothing strand pulsed and wiggled through the air before sliding beneath her skin like ribbons of silk. Rena sighed at the pleasurable sensation as it seeped into her chest.

Moments later, she detected the source. It was coming from the red light flashing in the distance, calling her to safety like a siren.

Spirit streams, a term she had come up with years ago to describe the unusual phenomenon, were like an invisible trail of bread crumbs only Rena could see and feel. She had no idea why or how she was able to sense them, but she had never been more grateful for the gift than right that second.

Ever since Rena could remember, she had been able to detect the invisible trail left behind by all living creatures. She could find any person on the planet by simply connecting with their spirit streams. She had never found one in a dream before because she had to touch an object the other person had held in order to connect.

But then again, this was no regular dream. More like a recurring nightmare.

Move your ass! The man’s voice was louder this time and rife with impatience. Unless you enjoy getting fried like a chicken?

“Bossy and sarcastic?” Rena glanced over her shoulder as another tremor hit. “What a charming combination.”

Rena ran as fast as she could toward the otherworldly red light, her arms pumping with the effort. She ducked beneath a low-hanging branch but stumbled when the ground shuddered again beneath her feet. She regained her footing and an earsplitting roar filled the air but Rena didn’t look back. Fear gripped her by the throat and her heart threatened to beat right out of her chest, but she kept running toward the light.

If she followed the spirit stream, it would lead her to safety. She didn’t know how she knew that; she simply did. Deep in her gut, she was confident whoever was talking to her was inherently good. Spirit streams didn’t lie because they possessed the essence of the person they belonged to.

Good or evil, the truth was revealed every time.

A wave of heat flashed over her back as the deafening sound of the beast’s footsteps grew nearer still. Leaves crunched and branches cracked loudly as the monster tore through the woods, giving chase. With one final push, Rena broke through the tangle of branches and found what looked like a dead end. A rocky wall blocked her path, but the spirit stream drifted to the right and Rena followed it, even though it seemed to be going nowhere.

When she rounded the side of the mountain, she discovered a small opening in the rocks, and the crimson light flashed from within. With the beast bearing down, there was no time to ask questions. She dropped to her knees and crawled into the narrow space, inching along on her belly. Rocks and dirt scraped at her, but she kept moving toward the light, which glowed brighter and larger.

With sweat dripping into her eyes and panic creeping in, Rena finally came to the other end of the narrow tunnel, and what she found left her speechless. It emptied into an enormous cave with a glittering pool of bright-blue water lit from beneath. She climbed down the sloped, rocky wall carefully, and when she finally reached the bottom, she looked around in awe. The sheer size of the underground chamber and the serenity of the space was enough to leave her humbled, but it was what was buried inside the wall that left her speechless.

Curled up in a fetal position, behind layers of translucent quartz and stone, was one of the beasts that had been haunting her nightmares. Rena let out a shuddering breath and moved closer to the crystalline surface. The creature was as beautiful as it was terrifying. A prism of crimson and gold glinted behind the frosted wall in a breathtaking kaleidoscope pattern.

“Whoa. That is so cool. I’ve never seen one when it wasn’t trying to kill me. What is it? It looks kind of like a—”

She reached out to touch it.

Don’t! The man’s voice echoed through the cavernous space. Not in the dreamrealm.

Rena dropped her arm to her side and spun around, scanning the mammoth cave for any sign of her new friend.

You must go to him and find the others like yourself. The Amoveo can help you…and him. He must be awakened in the earthly plane by his mate. It’s the only way to break the curse, and we are almost out of time. If you don’t reach him by All Hallows’ Eve, he will be trapped here forever.

“Okay, first of all, what curse and who are the Amoveo?” Rena said slowly. “Second, there are no others like me. Trust me. I’m a total freak. Just ask any of the foster families I lived with and they’ll confirm it.”

Silence.

“Hello?” Rena settled her hands on her hips and looked around. “Yo! Mister? You still here? And what’s this business about a mate?”

You don’t know about the Amoveo? His voice was thick with surprise and a fair amount of confusion. How is that possible?

“Please,” Rena scoffed and swept her arms in big circle. “This fits right in with the rest of my weird-ass life. Listen, I appreciate you saving my ass back there and everything, even though this is only a dream. albeit a really weird dream, but what’s with the monster in the rocks? Why have those two assholes been killing me night after night and who must I go to?” She settled her hands on her hips again and arched one eyebrow. “And while we’re at it, who the hell are you?”

Silence, heavy and thick, filled the cave once again and Rena practically choked on it.

I’ve never encountered one like you before.

His voice and spirit stream bounced off the nooks and crannies of the rocks, effectively masking his location. Another first.

“Yeah? Well, I’ve never been interrogated in my own dream before. I call us even.”

What’s your name?

She answered the ludicrous question. “Rena McHale.” This dream was her subconscious. Why would she ask herself her own name? “Why? What’s yours?”

Pick up the stone.

“That’s a weird name,” she deadpanned.

Pick it up! We don’t have time to waste. Not anymore.

His voice boomed louder, from behind her this time. Rena spun around and spotted a jagged piece of red quartz perched precariously on a rocky outcropping along the wall. About the size of a large egg, it glowed from within, like the water in the pool. Rena let out a slow breath and ran both hands through her short brown hair before lacing her fingers behind her head.

“Does this have to do with that curse you mentioned?” she shouted to the empty cave. “I’m not buying what you’re selling, dude. I have enough problems without getting involved with some weird curse.”

Pick it up. Now! It’s the only way.

“It’s a good thing you’re a disembodied voice and not a real live guy.” Rena dropped her hands to her side and cautiously approached the stone. “I’d have to deck you for being so damn bossy.”

Please. He dragged out the word as though it was painful for him to ask her nicely. Pick up the stone.

“Jeez.” Rena rolled her eyes before scooping it up. “Fine.”

The instant the quartz touched her fingers, the cave erupted in an explosion of light. Another spirit stream that was almost identical to the other but far weaker in strength whispered beneath her flesh. Rena sucked in a shuddering breath and wanted to open her eyes but couldn’t. They were heavy with sleep.

As darkness closed in, the man whispered, You are his only hope.

***

Zander Lorens rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he reached around blindly for the cell phone that was somewhere next to his sleeping bag. Early morning sunlight streamed in through the vents of his tent, and he squinted against it while swearing under his breath. The dream was still fresh and the woman’s face securely imprinted on his mind, to say nothing of her energy signature.

For the first time in five centuries, Zander had hope that the curse could be broken.

When his fingers curled around the smooth, familiar device, he snatched it and sat up. Bleary-eyed, he scrolled through the screen, looking for the old witch’s phone number. It was one of the only non-business-related contacts he had in there. Referring to Isadora as a friend was probably a stretch, especially since it was one of her sisters who had cursed him and his brother all those years ago.

Over the years, in spite of the history between their families, she had become a trusted acquaintance. Hell, she was a powerful old broad, and if she wanted to hurt Zander, she could have done it a hundred times over. Complicated past aside, Isadora was his only surviving connection to the supernatural world.

Zander had no other options.

The early morning chill of the surrounding mountains crept in, but Zander barely felt it. Excitement and a healthy dose of nerves had his blood humming. He pressed the phone to his ear and unzipped his tent. Sucking in a deep breath of crisp morning air, he stepped out, uncaring of his nakedness. There was nobody there to see it other than the forest creatures, and since he wasn’t exactly Snow White, they wouldn’t be paying him any mind.

After six or seven rings, Isadora finally picked up.

“You better have a damned good reason for calling an old woman at this hour,” she croaked. “The sun is barely up.”

“I found her.” Zander tried to keep his voice even and his eagerness at bay, but it was no use. “Last night. In the dreamrealm. Arianna was gone, and a woman I have never seen before had taken her place. She was—”

“Hold on a damn minute,” she rasped. “Slow down.”

“Zed spoke, Isadora. He actually spoke.” He let out a short laugh of disbelief and pushed his shaggy, dark hair off his face while staring at the rising sun. “The voice was more beast than man, but he uttered the same word over and over again as soon as he saw her: mine. Don’t you see? The woman in the dreamrealm, whoever she is, has to be Zed’s mate.”

When the old witch didn’t respond, Zander thought the connection had been lost. He pulled the phone away and checked, but he had plenty of bars. He growled with frustration and put it back to his ear, but two seconds later, a crackling sound erupted behind him.

Zander spun around to see the old woman standing there, a cloud of purple smoke disappearing around her in the early morning light. Her long, straight, salt-and-pepper hair hung to her waist, and her tanned, wrinkled face was covered with a mischievous smile. Those dark eyes of her twinkled wickedly as they flicked over his naked body, lingering longer than he’d like on his dick.

“I thought we should talk in person,” she said with a wink. Isadora pointed one crooked finger at his crotch before leaning both hands on her tall walking stick. “You better cover up, or I’m going to get the wrong idea.”

“I’m too old to go diving behind a tree.”

Zander hit End on the phone and strode toward the tent as her cackling laughter filled the air. Nudity wasn’t a big deal for the members of his race. Shit. After five hundred years on earth, trapped in his human form, nothing was a big deal anymore.

“And I’m too old to take advantage of the situation,” she snickered. “In this body, anyhow. Now, if I had used my younger-self potion before my travelin’ potion, we wouldn’t be doing very much talking, if you know what I’m gettin’ at.”

“I have an idea.” Zander threw his cell phone in the tent and grabbed his jeans, trying not to imagine what the old woman looked like under her long robe-like dress. “You know, we could have continued this conversation on the phone.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” She leaned on her cane and gave him a sly smile as he pulled his pants up. “’Sides, given everythin’ you were goin’ on about, we need to be real clear about what comes next. Best to have this talk in person.”

Zander nodded his agreement and settled both hands on his hips as he studied the ancient witch woman closely. Her energy signature, like most supernatural creatures, was far stronger than a human’s. It was the spiritual fingerprint each individual possessed. After Zander had been cursed, being able to detect those powerful streams of energy was the only gift he had left.

Well, that and being immortal. But as far as he was concerned, immortality wasn’t any damn gift he’d ever wanted. At least, not like this.

“Now, let’s get back to business.” Isadora thumped her walking stick into the ground with her gnarled hands. “You think you may have found a way to break my sister’s curse? I thought the only way to get rid of it was for one of you boys to commit an act of pure, unselfish love?”

“Since Zed has been trapped in hibernation in his dragon form for the past five centuries, it cut our odds in half.”

“Fair point.” She let out a groan as she settled her round backside on a tree stump next to Zander’s makeshift fire pit. “But you’re still here. Why ain’t you been able to get rid of the curse? Ain’t you done any good deeds in the last half a millennium?”

“What a load of crap that turned out to be,” Zander scoffed under his breath. “I’ve spent the last five centuries doing good deeds and random acts of kindness all over the globe and not a damn one worked. Do you have any idea how many cats and drowning kids I’ve saved?”

“Nope.”

“Well, it’s a lot. Shit,” he huffed. “I’ve lost count. I’ve fought in wars for the greater good, built homes for the downtrodden, and bought groceries for strangers. I’ve tossed countless coins into paper cups that were clutched in the hands of homeless men, women, and children. Nothing has made a difference. The curse has remained in place. Zed is stuck in the dreamrealm and I’m…here.”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “You and your twin brother got screwed.”

“He got it worse than me,” Zander said quietly. “Zed has been languishing in the dreamrealm. Night after night, we relive that fight—the one that changed everything. I’ve tried to reason with him, but he stopped hearing me long ago. He’s…tortured.”

“Grief and regret will do that.”

“He’s been reduced to his most savage state. The man is gone and only the beast remains.”

“Right, I know all that,” she said with waning patience. “So what makes you think this woman is the key to breaking the curse?”

“He saw her, Isadora,” Zander said with a smile. “And he spoke. I can’t tell you the last time he did that. It was only one word, but it was a damn good one.”

“Mine,” Isadora said quietly. Worry edged the wrinkles around her eyes. “So you’re tellin’ me that you think this woman in the dreamrealm is Zed’s mate?”

“Zed sure as hell thought she was. Besides, why else would some random woman land in there with us?”

“Why do you think—”

“She’s Amoveo,” Zander said quietly.

Isadora’s eyes widened, and she nodded slowly as an expression of understanding washed over her. The Amoveo, an ancient race of shapeshifters similar to the Dragon Clan in many ways, found their mates in the dreamrealm. Once they connected there, they could find each other in the physical plane.

“She’s a shifter. Like you were.”

“No.” Zander’s jaw clenched. “The dragons were cousins of the Amoveo. We aren’t the same.”

“Pfft.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s what you call semantics. The Dragon Clan was considered the eleventh clan of the Amoveo by most everyone—except the dragons. Which of the ten Amoveo clans is she descended from?”

“From the Fox Clan, I think.”

“Like someone else we knew.” Isadora sniffed. “Seems a little too coincidental for me.”

Zander pretended to ignore that last comment.

“Her name is Rena McHale, but I don’t think she’s a pureblood. If she was, she would know what she is because she would have gone through her first shapeshifting episode during puberty, like all of the Amoveo do. There’s no way she knows there’s Amoveo blood in her veins, which is going to make this a hell of a lot more difficult. I had no idea the Amoveo could even breed with humans.”

“Most of ’em don’t know what they are,” Isadora said flatly. “Comes as quite a shock to ’em.”

Zander stilled.

“You mean there are more like her? Part human and part Amoveo?”

“Yes, sir. Prince Richard has had his men out looking for ’em and bringin’ ’em back to his ranch, over in Montana.”

An image of Zed in his hibernation cocoon flashed into his mind. His twin brother was deep beneath the earth, where no one would find him. Humans rarely ventured that far under the ground, and other than Zander and Isadora, nobody even knew Zed was there.

“They still occupy that land? I thought for sure they would have sold it off over the years.”

“You didn’t sell yours,” she said, referring to his property in West Yellowstone.

“It’s all I have left of my clan.”

“Maybe they feel the same. You aren’t so different after all.” She shrugged her narrow shoulders and waved one hand. “Richard and Salinda’s place is more of a compound, really. They had themselves some trouble over the past few years. Purist Amoveo caused a ruckus. Guess they were none too pleased about these hybrids popping up. The Council has been dissolved and—”

“You’re not serious.”

The Council was the Amoveo’s governing body and was comprised of two members from each of the ten clans. Eons ago, long before Zander and Zed were born, the Dragons had even been a part of it. He couldn’t imagine the kind of chaos that must have ensued with the dissolution of the Council.

“Deadly so, I’m afraid. There were assassination attempts. Nasty business. I ain’t seen the ten Amoveo clans fight among themselves like that since…well…since that business with you and your brother and that Fox Clan girl.”

“That was a long time ago, and this woman, whoever she is, isn’t Arianna but she is Zed’s mate.”

“Or yours,” Isadora whispered.

“No,” he said adamantly. “I’m not letting that happen again. She’s meant for Zed.”

“Who she’s meant for ain’t up to you, now is it?”

“This woman is his only hope.”

Zander grabbed two large, thick branches and snapped them in half, using his pent-up frustration to do it. Silence settled between them as Zander squatted down and arranged some sticks in the fire pit. He stuffed some newspaper underneath before lighting it up.

“’Bout time,” she groused. “It’s colder than a witch’s tit out here.”

Zander let out a huff of laughter at her silly comment and shook his head before sitting beside the fire. Isadora always did have a way of diffusing tense situations. He pulled his knees up and settled his arms over them as the heat washed over the bare flesh of his chest. The crackle of the wood as it was consumed by the flames filled the air, instantly putting him at ease.

For most people, the power of fire was frightening, but it made Zander feel at home.

“You miss it, don’t you?” she asked, her voice pulling him from his memories. “The dragon.”

“Embracing my dragon again is all I’ve wanted, and ironically, it’s the very thing that’s tormenting Zed.” He tossed another branch on the fire, sending sparks into the air. “If I can get this woman to the cave where Zed is hibernating and give her a spirit stone from our tribal land, she might be able to use it to wake him up.”

“That’s a big might,” Isadora said firmly. “Boy, you got nothin’ but maybes and could bes.”

“Yeah. That’s about all I’ve got and we’re running out of time. This Saturday is—”

“Oh hell.” She tapped her cane on the ground and pursed her lips. “It’s All Hallows’ Eve, ain’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Damn,” she said with a sigh. “Those five hundred years surely did fly right on by.”

Zed let out a bitter laugh.

The past several centuries had felt more like millennia as far as he was concerned. However, he clamped down on his moment of self-pity and reminded himself that nothing he went through could compare to Zed’s painful existence.

“That’s why I need your help. If we don’t break the curse before sunset on Saturday, then it will never be over, and Zed will be trapped there. Forever. Tormented. Alone. I can’t live with that, and thanks to your sister’s curse, I can’t even put myself out of my own misery.” He sighed wearily. “Living forever sucks…at least living like this.”

He turned his gaze to hers and threw a prayer to the universe that she would take pity on him. The old woman, her long white-and-brown robe draped over her thin form, stared into the fire but said nothing. He sensed she was weighing her options.

“Please, Isadora. Put me in touch with the prince or one of his people. I’ve got to get on that property. You and I both know that I can’t just walk up to the gates. And I can’t try and sneak on because they’ll sense my presence. You know I’m right.”

“Can’t say you’re wrong.” A look of understanding flickered over her weathered face, and she nodded. “But if you had an Amoveo hybrid with you…one looking for sanctuary…”

“We kill two birds with one stone: Rena can connect with her people, and I have a chance to free my brother.”

“Seems more complicated than you’re makin’ it.”

Zander let out a beleaguered sigh.

“Can you help me or not?”

“Yes.”

She pushed herself to her feet, using her cane for support. Zander hopped up before going around the fire and scooping the tiny old witch up in a big hug. Her frail, five-foot-tall frame was easily engulfed by his far larger one.

“My sister was a troublemaker and always sellin’ her magic to the highest bidder. It ain’t right, and if she weren’t already dead, I’d have a mind to kill her myself. It’s witches like her that gave all of us a bad rap. I swear. The fairies are a bunch of troublemakers and we’re the ones who look bad in the human stories. Ain’t right, I tell ya.”

“Thank you, Isadora.”

He set her down and planted a kiss on her soft cheek as his gratitude swelled.

“All right, now.” Her wrinkled cheeks pinkened, and she patted him on the arm. “Better be careful with all that kissin’ on me. We may be about the same age, but my body ain’t weathered the years as well as yours.”

Her brow furrowed and her smile faltered as her gaze skittered over his bare chest. She tapped one of several scars on his torso with a gnarled fingertip and made a tsking sound.

“I guess you aren’t exactly unscathed, are you?”

“No, ma’am.” Zander pressed both hands to his chest and stepped back before extending his arms wide. “But thanks to your sister, I am indestructible.”

“And handsome as ever.” She pulled a small glass bottle from one of the folds in her robe and flipped the cork out with her thumb. “Better stand back, boy.”

Zander did as she said and put a healthy distance between them.

“I’ll get a message to the Amoveo. If I had to venture a guess, you’ll be gettin’ a call from a Dante Coltari. He’s the one been wranglin’ the hybrids to the ranch, but that’s all I can do for you. After that, you’re on your own. I don’t like to meddle where I don’t have to.”

Zander arched one dark eyebrow at her and she shrugged.

“Yeah, that ain’t true. I love messin’ with people. Keeps my mind and magic sharp.”

She was about to swallow her potion, but Zander held up one hand, stopping her.

“Don’t give them my real name. Tell them—”

“Won’t matter. Trust me.”

“Isadora,” he began, “I hardly think they’ll welcome a dragon to their property. Even before my people were extinct, we were the outcasts. Some of the Amoveo even helped the human dragon slayers hunt us into oblivion, Arianna’s father for one.”

Anger surged at the painful memories, but he stuffed it back down. Better to save it for another day. If he was going to have to deal with a ranch full of Amoveo, he would need all of his strength. In his experience, rage was one hell of a weapon.

“Yeah,” she snorted. “But you ain’t a dragon no more. The dragons are all gone and only exist in human fairy tales and folklore…for the most part.”

Before he could protest further, Isadora swallowed her potion and vanished in a cloud of purple smoke. As the haze of her departure dissipated, Zander’s thoughts went to the woman from the dreamrealm.

If she didn’t know who and what she really was, how the hell was Zander going to tell her about him and his brother? Or that she was Zed’s intended mate?

What a shit show.

Yep. He was fucked. Again.

All he knew was her name and where she was located. Though the curse had stripped him of virtually all of his Dragon Clan abilities, he was still able to identify her unique energy pattern—and it showed him exactly where she was.

He wasted no time. Zander packed up his tent and backpack, and pointed his Harley in the right direction.

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Spotlight: Wicked in His Arms by Stacy Reid

Genre: Historical Romance
Release Date: January 23, 2017

Synopsis

Tobias Walcott, the Earl of Blade, has learned it is best to exercise rigid control over his passions and emotions in all that he does. Uncaring that it makes him seem cool and aloof to most in the ton, he is content with his desire to only woo agreeable and demur females. Then unforeseen circumstances see him trapped in a closet at a house party with the last woman he would ever make his countess.

Lady Olivia Sherwood is everything he should not desire in a female—unconventional, too decisive, and utterly without decorum. But passion ignites between them and they are discovered. Honor demands they wed, and while Tobias finds himself unwillingly drawn to the bewitching beauty, he must do everything not to tempt the passion that burns in him for her, lest it leads to disastrous consequences. 

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About the Author

I am an avid reader of novels with a deep passion for writing. I especially love romance and enjoy writing about people falling in love. I live a lot in the worlds I create and I actively speak to my characters (out loud). I have a warrior way “Never give up on my dream.” When I am not writing, I spend a copious amount of time drooling over Rick Grimes from The Walking Dead, Lucas Hood from Banshee, watching Japanese Anime and playing video games with my love—Dusean. I also have a horrible weakness for ice cream.

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Spotlight: Shielded by the Cowboy Seal by Bonnie Vanak

About the Book

The SOS Agency grants one Navy SEAL his most personal mission yet

Home on leave at his family farm, Navy SEAL Cooper Johnson receives an unexpected assignment: to protect a beautiful socialite on the run from her abusive ex. Grieving his kid sister, a brave cop killed in the line of duty due to a faulty bulletproof vest, Coop is in no mood for work until he meets Meg Taylor. Soon, he finds that riding the land, lovely Meg safe beside him, is a surprising comfort to his heart. But when he discovers Meg's dark past and the evidence she possesses that her ex would kill to keep buried it will take both the cowboy and SEAL within him to get the ultimate justice.

Excerpt

Such delicious warmth.

Meg slowly opened her eyes. She’d been back at the car, Sophie curled beside her, wondering how they would survive the storm and not freeze to death. The cold had pierced her bones like icy knives.

And then she’d closed her eyes, trying to keep her dog warm by holding Sophie tight. The nightmare had been too real. Sophie, kicked out of the house by her husband, wandering the streets during a south Florida cold snap. Curling up in a doorway to stay warm, whimpering and afraid, confused as to why her owners had abandoned her…

She drove, as she had in the past when it really happened, searching the streets for her beloved dog. But this time during the nightmare, a handsome stranger picked Sophie into his arms and scowled at Meg, as if blaming her for Sophie’s condition.

Now as she stirred, she became aware of lying in a warm bed, blankets piled atop her. A lamp glowed softly on a nightstand.

Meg realized she wore only panties and a bra.

And in addition to being half-naked, there was a hard male body next to her, also half-naked. Panic swept through her. She startled and moved away, but a strong, muscled arm hooked around her waist.

“Relax,” a deep male voice said. “You’re not going anywhere.”

The voice was strange, tinged with amusement and a New England accent. The body belonging to that accent was hardened with thick muscle, not soft with fat like Prescott’s. She became aware of the scent of him, all cedar and spicy aftershave, a pleasing masculine smell, not the fancy and expensive cologne disguising the vodka Prescott had consumed far too much lately.

“Get away from me,” she mumbled. “Why are you doing this?

“No one dies on my watch, Princess, and you were entering hypothermia. Body heat is the best way of keeping warm. I daresay your little dog knows this, otherwise she’d be nipping at my toes instead of snuggled beneath them.”

He added, with a wry sound, “And if you got frostbite, the local doc would have to amputate those pretty pink toes of yours.”

She had to get out of here, but oh, the warmth beneath the blankets and the firm, muscled body beside her gave off heat like a blast furnace.

Meg blinked hard, trying to summon precious energy. “Her name is Sophie.”

“Should have called her Ouchie.”

Meg’s mushy brain couldn’t register the joke, until she lifted her head and saw her rescuer hold up his hand where a half moon marked the skin. “Bit clean through my glove.”

“Oh no! I’m so sorry.” Mortified, she struggled to sit up, more concerned about her dog biting a total stranger who had saved them from death than her lack of clothing.

He pushed her down. “Easy now. You need to stay under these covers a while longer.”

“My dog…”

“No worries,” he said easily. “I trust she’s had her shots, and I’ve had mine, so you needn’t worry about your furball getting a disease.”

Meg realized he was joking. The tension gripping her sore, tight muscles eased a little. She peered upward to get a closer look at him. A thick shock of wavy dark brown hair was cropped short. He had an intense gaze, thin cheekbones and a wide mouth. Handsome, with a hint of Irish blood in those ice-blue eyes.

A dusting of black hair covered his muscled chest. Washboard abs rippled beneath smooth, tanned skin. He was mouthwatering, a prime example of masculinity. Meg stared, still struggling with the unreality that this man had rescued her from the cold and warmed her with his body.

“You’re Cooper Johnson?”

“The one and only,” he drawled. “Your host over the next several days.”

She pulled the blankets up to cover her breasts, well aware her lacy red bra provided thin covering in the chill, and her nipples had turned rigid.

From the cold. Not the pull of attraction toward this handsome stranger. It didn’t matter if her libido sat up and started shimmying.

All she had to do was think of what Prescott would do if he found her, and her heated blood turned to ice.

“Where’s Sophie?”

Cooper lifted the bottom of the blankets. Snuggled at his feet, wedged partly beneath the covers, her dog snoozed. Relief filled Meg. She tossed back the covers, climbed down the length of the bed and gathered her dog into her arms, checking her over anxiously.

“She seems okay.” Meg drew in a deep breath as the awakening Sophie licked her face.

Sheer male interest flared on Cooper’s face. He rearranged the blankets around his waist. Realizing he must have had a bull’s-eye glimpse of her rear end, Meg flushed. She clutched the dog just a little too tightly, and Sophie squirmed.

The interest faded as his expression shuttered. He scratched the bristles on his hard jaw. “You feeling okay now, Princess?”

At her nod, he flung back the blankets, displaying a pair of long, muscled legs. A dusting of hair didn’t hide a wicked-looking scar on his left thigh. Her fascinated gaze traveled upward to the black Jockeys he wore…

And the very large bulge beneath them showing a blatant male reaction.

Seems as if Cooper Johnson was equally attracted to her.

Not that she’d do anything about it. Not in her lifetime.

His mouth curved into a knowing smile as he reached down to the floor, retrieved a pair of jeans. Cooper slid into them and stood, buckling the belt.

“Had to get you warm. Can’t help the consequences. I’m a guy, and you’re a very attractive woman.”

He shoved a hand through his thick hair and the move flexed the biceps of his right arm. A tattoo of a snake writhed with the motion as well. Sailors got inked, from what she knew. And he was a Navy SEAL.

Not regular Army, like her brother had been.

SEALs were tough, Lacey had told her, but their missions and lives were shrouded in secrecy. She wondered what happened to him that he was here now with her.

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About the Author

Bonnie Vanak is a NY Times bestselling author. After a career in journalism, she became a writer for an international charity, traveling to poor countries like Haiti to write about issues affecting the poor. When the strain of her job demanded a diversion, she turned to her childhood dream of writing romance novels. Bonnie lives in Florida with her husband and two rescue dogs. 

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Excerpt: Final Exit by Lena Diaz

About the Book

Lena Diaz concludes her sexy, suspenseful EXIT Inc. series as an FBI agent teams up with a beautiful assassin to uncover a deadly government conspiracy...

After a tragic mistake nearly destroyed his life, Special Agent Kade Quinn will do whatever it takes to save his career. His latest mission? Track and capture the remaining EXIT operatives to determine if they’re still a threat. But his next target—a stunning female assassin—is both elusive and dangerously appealing.

Bailey Stark has outsmarted the FBI so far, but she’s tired of running. Tired of watching her friends ambushed by government agents in tactical gear and never seen again. She suspects they aren’t being evaluated—they’re being exterminated—and she’s determined to convince Agent Quinn his mission is a lie before it’s too late. Bailey doesn’t want to rely on him. She definitely shouldn’t desire him. But she knows teaming up with the skilled, sexy agent may be her only hope.

Kade doesn’t want to believe Bailey’s claims, but he promises to keep her safe. Trusting one another is difficult. Fighting their attraction is harder. And as they uncover the disturbing truth behind his mission . . . staying alive will be nearly impossible.

Excerpt

Friday, 11:55 p.m.

It was a perfect night to catch a killer. A warm breeze blew out of the south at about six miles per hour. Rain-heavy clouds covered the half-moon, plunging the cliff where Special Agent Kade Quinn stood into darkness. He was betting on the old cliché, third time’s a charm. And also betting on the numbers—that his six, shiny new special agents could take down one highly skilled, remarkably cunning, experienced assassin.

Not the kind of odds to go to Vegas over. But he had to work with what he had. If things went as planned, Bailey Stark would soon be in custody like the dozens of other EXIT Inc. Enforcers that his team had managed to capture. The now-defunct company could never again fool the public into believing that all it did was offer vacation packages, so-called “EXtreme International Tours.” The clandestine organization’s true legacy as a corrupt front for government-sanctioned murder would end with the capture of the last few Enforcers. By the time his mission was over, every last one functioning members of society.

And innocents like Abby would never again become the victims of killers like Bailey. 

Between the nightmare of his wife’s death and the near-constant ache in his ruined left leg, Kade had his own, very personal, debt with EXIT. And he planned on collecting. He scanned the tree line. Past the red oak and Ponderosa pines, the Colorado Rockies squatted like dark sentinels watching over tonight’s operation. Below him, in the middle of a wide, nearly treeless valley, was ground zero, the two-story cottage that Bailey believed would be her sanctuary. Instead, it would become her last stand. A quarter-mile-long driveway connected a two-lane highway to this remote property. At close to midnight and an hour’s drive from Boulder, the road was essentially deserted. Kade couldn’t have asked for a better place to launch an ambush. And if his intel was correct, Bailey should arrive within the next half hour.

Only a few minutes later the two-way radio on his belt crackled to life. “Big Bear to Lone Wolf. Come in.”

Kade rolled his eyes and pressed the transmit button. “Kade here. What’s the situation report, Nichols?”

“You’re ruining my fun, boss.” He shook his head but played along. He had to pick his battles. “Lone Wolf to Big Bear. What’s the sitrep?”

“Much better.” A chuckle sounded through the radio. “A beat-up, dark blue Camaro just turned off the highway. One occupant. Looks to be our target. She’s heading toward the cottage.”

“Use the SUV to block the road behind her. If she gets spooked, I don’t want her doing a one-eighty and making it to the highway.”

“Affirmative. Big Bear out.”

Kade clicked off the mic and belatedly wished he’d downed a handful of antacids before driving out here. Being assigned these eager, raw newbies had to be his penance for his breakdown after the accident. They were also the reason he was here in person rather than monitoring the mission remotely per the usual protocol. Tonight’s target had already tricked his team and gotten away—twice. Kade was here to make sure that didn’t happen again.

“Cord,” he said through the two-way. “Sitrep.”

“You mean you aren’t going to call me Little Bear?”

“Do you want me to?” He was half-afraid of the answer.

“Hell no. I’m not in junior high.”

“You guys know I can hear you, right?” Nichols chimed in.

“Sitrep,” Kade growled.

“She just passed my ten o’clock,” Cord announced. “Dom should have her in his sights in a few seconds.”

“Already do,” Dominic confirmed. “The car is pulling up to the house. We’re all set.”

“Radio silence in three, two, one.” Kade clicked off the transmitter.

They couldn’t risk the sound of static or a mistimed transmission alerting their target. Or at least, that was the official reason for breaking communications. Unofficially, he needed a few moments of silence to get his impatience under control. What had happened to the bureau’s standards? Big Bear, Little Bear? Hell, two of his agents—Dom and Jack—had tattoos. Since when had the FBI allowed tats? Quantico was going soft.

He looked through the binoculars. Instead of driving into the attached garage as expected, Bailey did a three-point turn and parked the Camaro pointing down the driveway. Was she suspicious? Had she purposely positioned her vehicle for a quick getaway? His hands tightened around the binoculars. The driver’s door opened. A petite woman in dark-colored shorts and a white T-shirt emerged. A pistol was holstered at her waist and her shoulder-length, curly red hair reflected like flames in the soft glow of the porch light. Even at this distance she had the kinds of curves that made men pay attention—including Kade, much to his chagrin.

He had more reason than most to despise Enforcers, and yet his breath caught every time he looked at one of her photographs in the case file. He couldn’t imagine the effect she’d have on him if he ever got within a few feet of her in person. It was bad enough that his pulse quickened whenever those deep green eyes gazed back at him from her pictures. But what he hated the most was the odd feeling of kinship he felt toward her, a tug of empathy when he saw the shadows in her eyes, the same shadows he saw every time he looked in a mirror. He couldn’t help wondering what had happened to harden her and make her look so lost, so sad, so incredibly . . . alone.

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About the Author

Originally from Kentucky, romantic suspense author Lena Diaz also lived in California and Louisiana before settling in Northeast Florida with her husband, two children, and a Shetland Sheepdog named Sparky. A Romance Writers of America Golden Heart® finalist, she's won the prestigious Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense and has been a finalist for the National Excellence in Romance Fiction Award. She loves to watch action movies, garden, and hike in the beautiful Tennessee Smoky Mountains.

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