Spotlight: Don’t You Forget About Me by Naima Simone

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(Love on the Radio, #2)
Publication date: November 1st 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Whoever said be careful what you wish for had a serious gift for understatement.

As one of the world’s hugest musicians I’d seen and had it all. Sold out tours. Awards. Fame. Money. Women… And I’d almost lost it all. Epically.

Now I’m back home. A broken, burned out, desperate rock star…and a single father. I returned to give my son a family, stability. To figure out my life. But coming home meant seeing her.

The woman who was once my everything. Who made life in this too small town bearable. Who I loved with my whole heart…my whole body. But long held secrets forced me to leave nine years ago. Forced me to abandon her. And she’s never forgiven me.

Still…

I’ve never forgotten her or the heat between us that burned so hot we damn near went up in flames with it. And I want it again. And again. Even knowing the past will only tear us apart once more…

Excerpt

I enter Hunt Auto’s breakroom, closing the door behind us. As soon as the lock engages, Lennon whirls around, and I shift my gaze from her infuriated glare to over her head.

Just for a minute.

Because Jesus… She’s f*cking gorgeous.

My fingers itch to sink into those beautiful, thick curls, hold her steady while I desecrate that wide, lush mouth. The knit of her dress pays homage to every curve and dip of her body, molding to her high, firm breasts, the sensual flare of her hips, the thickness of her thighs. And fUck if I can’t feel the heels of her knee-high boots in my lower back.

At twenty I’d barely had the opportunity to explore the searing sexuality and lust that had existed between us before I had to leave. Barely had my fill of that violets and musk scent that was more intoxicating than the best top-shelf alcohol. My stomach aches with hunger for a woman whose particular flavor is still as fresh, as potent to me as it was ten years ago.

“What in the hell are you thinking?” she snaps, then flicks her gaze towards the closed door. She lowers her voice without losing any of the venom. “Do you know what you just did?”

“Yeah.” I drag my gaze from the wall and meet hers. Not daring to glance below her chin. No, f*ck that. Her nose. “I stopped you from driving while you were upset. And don’t try lying to me,” I interrupt when her lips part to do just that—lie. “You were upset. Still are. Don’t ask me to see you hurting and walk away, whether it’s my business or not. Don’t ask me to do it.”

“Why not?” She jerks her gaze back to me, and I go solid. “You do it so well. You’re a pro at it.”

I stare at her. At the tautness of the skin over her cheekbones. The darkness in her eyes. She’s a bomb set on emotional detonate, and the masochist that I am, I want all that shrapnel embedded in my skin. I want her to draw my blood.

“Don’t stop now. Let it out, baby. You’re right. I left you. Didn’t look back. Didn’t give a f*ck,” I lie.

“You don’t give a f*ck about anyone but yourself. You never did. You used me and then threw me away,” she rasps.

“Yeah, I did. Now what?” I keep shoving at her, even though guilt slides through me like filth. “You want me to apologize? To crawl on my knees and grovel? To beg?”

“Yes.” Her whisper echoes in the room as if she shouted it. “I want to see you hurt, sorry, suffering. Just like when you left me broken. You didn’t give a damn then so don’t pretend you do now. Nothing about you has changed, King. Not one thing. And I hate you for it. I hate you for not once looking back at the wreckage you left behind you. I hate you for going on with life and living it like I never mattered while I had to face reminders and memories of you every time I walked out my front door. I hate you…” Her voice hoarsens, and she crosses her arms over her chest, bowing her head. “I hate you because you gave another woman what you promised me. A family. Gunner could’ve been ours. Should’ve been ours. But you stole one more dream from me.”

F*ck.

F*ck.

It doesn’t occur to me not to touch her.

Eliminating the space between us, I pull her into my arms.

“King, don’t…” Her whisper ends on a sob, and I tighten my hold on her, pressing my lips to her hair.

“No. I can’t. There’s no way I can let you go right now.” I inhale her, take her so deep into my lungs, her scent burns me, marks me. Rubbing my mouth over her hair, I beg just like she wanted me to. “Let go, Len. Let go and allow me to be the one who carries you through it. Lean on me, baby. Just for a little while.”

Her fists ball into my shirt, stretching the material at my waist. She rolls her forehead against my chest, and her jagged breaths scorch me through my clothes. I slide a hand up her spine, cupping the back of her neck, squeezing it.

As if that unlocks something inside her, her shoulders shake and seconds later, her cries rip through the room. She crushes her cheek against me, and her tears dampen my shirt and skin. Stroking her back with one hand, I cradle her head with the other, fingers tunneling under the bun to scratch her scalp.

How long she sobs in my arms, I’m not certain. Minutes, hours. A lifetime. It’s not long enough. Curling my body over her, I brush my mouth over her ear.

“I left, yes. But I did look back. So many damn times. And never, ever did I stop giving a f*ck,” I softly admit.

Her breath shudders against my chest, and locking down a groan, I lift my hands to her face, tilting it back. Her eyes, moist with all the tears she’s shed, meet mine. Even with her face wet and swollen, she’s beautiful to me.

“Liar,” she accuses, voice so rough, it’s nearly painful to hear. “You’re such a liar.”

Then she raises on her toes and crushes her mouth to mine.

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About the Author

Published since 2009, USA Today Bestselling author Naima Simone loves writing sizzling romances with heart, a touch of humor and snark. Her books have been featured in The Washington Post and Entertainment Weekly, and described as balancing “crackling, electric love scenes with exquisitely rendered characters caught in emotional turmoil.”

She is wife to Superman, or his non-Kryptonian, less bullet proof equivalent, and mother to the most awesome kids ever. They all live in perfect, sometimes domestically-challenged bliss in the southern United States.

Connect:

http://naimasimone.com/
https://twitter.com/Naima_Simone
https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/y7o1t4
https://www.facebook.com/naimasimoneauthor
https://www.instagram.com/naimasimoneauthor/
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3232449.Naima_Simone

Spotlight: All I Need by J.H. Croix

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A swoony, small town holiday romance from USA Today Bestselling Author J.H. Croix!

✔️ A broody FBI agent
✔️ A smart, sassy heroine
✔️ Off limits no more
✔️ An accidental break in
✔️ Swoony holiday romance
✔️ Small town shenanigans

Break in for benefits?

When a friend offers me a week at her family’s home in Maine for the holidays, I say ‘yes’ so fast I forget to say please. As a single mom, time to myself is impossible to come by.

I’m barely in the house when I’m mistaken for a burglar. When the lights come on, I discover the broody FBI agent who found me is Noah Tate, the off-limits older brother of my best friend from high school.

Noah was tall, dark, handsome, flirty, and popular back in high school. I kept my secret crush on him under wraps. I was above all that now. Except the chemistry burns so hot between us the air crackles with it.

We’re snowed in, so maybe we can make the best of it.

Noah & Sasha’s story is perfect for readers who love: friends to lovers, slow burn, broody FBI agents, small town gossip, emotional romance with a dash of angst, plenty of swoon and all the feels, and a protective hero who’s more than ready to prove a sassy heroine wrong.

*A full-length, standalone romance.

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Meet J.H. Croix:

USA Today Bestselling Author J. H. Croix lives in a small town in the historical farmlands of Maine with her husband and two spoiled dogs. Croix writes steamy contemporary romance with sassy women and rugged alpha men who aren't afraid to show some emotion. Her love for quirky small-towns and the characters that inhabit them shines through in her writing. Take a walk on the wild side of romance with her bestselling novels!

Connect with J.H. Croix:

https://jhcroixauthor.com/instagram/

Spotlight: Second Chance Mine by M. Robinson

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Release Date: November 1

From Wall Street Journal and USA Today Bestselling Author M. Robinson comes an enemies second chance standalone romance.

You never forget your first love…

And I hadn’t.

Not her kiss.

Not her taste.

Not her touch.

Every stolen moment we had between us was forbidden.

She was off limits.

Especially to me.

I wish I could say I followed my own rules.

I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

I lost her trying to make her mine.

Because in the end…

She was always my brother’s best friend.

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Meet M. Robinson:

M. Robinson is the Wall Street Journal & USA Today Bestselling Author crowned as the "Queen of Angst" by readers around the world. Dive into her visionary world that will take you on a rollercoaster ride of emotions and leave you wanting more. She writes everything from contemporary to suspense romance and is best known for her novel, El Diablo.

When M isn't in the cave writing her next epic love story, you will find her shopping and living on a boat in Florida with her real life pirate, her lobster, her husband Bossman. Sipping on Starbucks and hanging out with their two dogs, a German shepherd mix and a gordito Wheaten Terrier reading a good book. Or spending time with her family, who she is extremely close with.

Above all, M loves her readers more than anything and loves to connect with them! She is on all social media platforms but you will find her in her happy place the most. Her VIP Reader Group on Facebook or her second favorite happy place, Instagram.

Connect with M. Robinson:

Website: www.authormrobinson.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/authormrobinson

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authormrobinson/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorMRobinson

YouTube Channel: http://bit.ly/2Catz97

Reader Group: www.facebook.com/groups/M.RobinsonVIP/  

TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@authormrobinson 

Spotlight: Mine to Love by Natasha Madison

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Release Date: November 1

From USA Today bestselling author Natasha Madison comes a small town, surprise pregnancy romance.

Nothing says forever like two pink lines!

Presley
After my sisters’ disastrous weddings, I’m never going to get married.
I’ll just stay single forever.
It doesn’t matter that I’m in love with my brother’s best friend.
Or that Bennett and I shouldn’t even be friends with benefits.
Until the positive sign tells me I’m pregnant.

Bennett
I fell in love with Presley when she was eighteen and asked me for a favor.
She didn’t want to go to college a virgin.
I said no, but she kissed me, and I was lost in her.
Years later, I’ll take her with any rules she gives me.

She thinks this is just a fling. She’s wrong.

Because she’s always been mine to love.

Buy on Amazon | Audible

About the Author

When her nose isn't buried in a book, or her fingers flying across a keyboard writing, she's in the kitchen creating gourmet meals. You can find her, in four inch heels no less, in the car chauffeuring kids, or possibly with her husband scheduling his business trips. It's a good thing her characters do what she says, because even her Labrador doesn't listen to her...

Connect with Natasha Madison:

Website: https://www.natashamadisonauthor.com 

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorNatashaMadison/ 

Twitter: https://twitter.com/natashamauthor 

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/natashamauthor/?hl=en 

Facebook Reader Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1152112081478827/ 

Follow on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Natasha-Madison 

Follow on BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/natasha-madison 

Subscribe to Newsletter: http://bit.ly/2moWnZq 

TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@natashamadisonauthor 

Spotlight: Hate, Rinse, Repeat by Whitney Dineen & Melanie Summers

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(A Gamble on Love Mom-Com, #3)
Publication date: October 28th 2022
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

Christmas is a time for hate...

Maisy Moore is not looking forward to the holiday season. As owner of the only hair salon in Gamble, Alaska, she’ll be run off her feet helping her clients get dolled up for Christmas and New Years Eve parties. Parties she’ll never be invited to.

But that’s not the worst of it. As a single mom, she knows she still won’t be able to give her seven-year-old son, Jack, the kind of magical Christmas his classmates get. Telling him how much she loves him will only get a kid that age so far. If only she could give him what he really wants—to know who his dad is. 

The last thing Maisy needs is for NHL star Chase Evans to come waltzing back into town like he’s God’s gift to women. But that’s exactly what Chase does.

After a taking a crosscheck from behind, Chase’s season is over. Instead of scoring goals, he’s recovering from shoulder surgery, and according to his mother, there’s no better place to recover than home. Because let’s face it, basking in the glow of local adoration won’t be too bad. There are no fans quite like hometown fans.

The last thing Chase expects is to find Maisy Moore still single. He decides to see if maybe they could rekindle their brief romance that occurred the night of their ten-year high school reunion. But when he tries to talk to her, he discovers Maisy’s feelings of lust have turned to loathing. And he’s determined to find out why.

Will Maisy manage to keep the identity of her son a secret? Will there be a holiday miracle that will reunite two hard-headed lovers? Will the BOGO special on shampoo and conditioner be a hit?

Find out in the deliciously funny and ridiculously romantic final installment of the Love is a Gamble Mom-Com Series.

Excerpt

Childhood can be hard at the best of times. But when your name rhymes with crazy, lazy, hazy, daisy, and Swayze—as in Patrick—it’s worse than you can imagine. Here are a few phrases I heard ad nauseum during my formative years: 

“It’s crazy Maisy with the lazy eye!” Corrective glasses fixed the eye, but there’s no coming back from such an abysmal start to your school years. Kind of like if you wore a body brace in middle school, you will always be the girl who wore the body brace in middle school. And if you wore a body brace and had a lazy eye? It was no picnic, let me tell you.

An actual allergy to allergy medication—you can’t make this stuff up—was to blame for my third-grade teacher often complaining, “Maisy was a little hazy today.”

I have Dr. Seuss to thank for, “It’s Daisy Head Maisy!” That’s right, his first posthumous book was gunning for me. I turned down free tickets to Seussical (the musical) because of it. 

Finally, my least favorite and most often heard—thank you, Chase Evans—“Maisy Swayzeee, wassup?!” This one was often accompanied by, “Nobody puts Maisy in the corner.”

Being that I live in the town where I grew up, I’m often reminded of my past nicknames. Owning the only hair salon in Gamble, Alaska, means old classmates and their mothers are always hanging around (and bringing their hilarious memories of me with them—Remember that time your back brace got caught in the monkey bars?).

If having a challenging start to life wasn’t enough, I’ve made one or two questionable decisions along the way that have added to my troubles. The first being that the father of my son does not know he’s the father of my son. 

I know, I know, “secret baby” is by far the worst romance trope. As romance novels are my only social life, I read a ton of them. And even before I got pregnant with Jack, I always passed on the secret baby ones. I mean, who keeps a secret that big?

Short answer—me. But I have my reasons. More on that later because I’ve got much bigger problems these days. 

Buy on Amazon

About the Author

Whitney loves to laugh, play with her kids, bake, and eat french fries -- not always in that order.

Whitney is a multi-award-winning author of romcoms, non-fiction humor, and middle reader fiction. Basically, she writes whatever the voices in her head tell her to.

She lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her husband, Jimmy, where they raise children, chickens, and organic vegetables.

Gold Medal winner at the International Readers' Favorite Awards, 2017.

Silver medal winner at the International Readers' Favorite Awards, 2015, 2016.

Finalist RONE Awards, 2016.

Finalist at the IRFA 2016, 2017.

Finalist at the Book Excellence Awards, 2017

Finalist Top Shelf Indie Book Awards, 2017

Connect:
https://whitneydineen.com/
https://twitter.com/whitneydineen
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8145525.Whitney_Dineen
https://www.instagram.com/whitneydineenauthor/
https://www.facebook.com/Whitney-Dineen-Author-11687019412/

Melanie Summers also writes steamy romance as MJ Summers.

Melanie made a name for herself with her debut novel, Break in Two, a contemporary romance that cracked the Top 10 Paid on Amazon in both the UK and Canada, and the top 50 Paid in the USA. Her highly acclaimed Full Hearts Series was picked up by both Piatkus Entice (a division of Hachette UK) and HarperCollins Canada. Her first three books have been translated into Czech and Slovak by EuroMedia. Since 2013, she has written and published three novellas, and eight novels (of which seven have been published). She has sold over a quarter of a million books around the globe.

In her previous life (i.e. before having children), Melanie got her Bachelor of Science from the University of Alberta, then went on to work in the soul-sucking customer service industry for a large cellular network provider that shall remain nameless (unless you write her personally - then she'll dish). On her days off, she took courses and studied to become a Chartered Mediator. That designation landed her a job at the R.C.M.P. as the Alternative Dispute Resolution Coordinator for 'K' Division. Having had enough of mediating arguments between gun-toting police officers, she decided it was much safer to have children so she could continue her study of conflict in a weapon-free environment (and one which doesn't require makeup and/or nylons).

Melanie resides in Edmonton with her husband, three young children, and their adorable but neurotic one-eyed dog. When she's not writing novels, Melanie loves reading (obviously), snuggling up on the couch with her family for movie night (which would not be complete without lots of popcorn and milkshakes), and long walks in the woods near her house. She also spends a lot more time thinking about doing yoga than actually doing yoga, which is why most of her photos are taken 'from above'. She also loves shutting down restaurants with her girlfriends. Well, not literally shutting them down, like calling the health inspector or something--more like just staying until they turn the lights off.

She is represented by Suzanne Brandreth of The Cooke Agency International.

Connect:
https://mjsummersbooks.wordpress.com/
https://twitter.com/mjsummersbooks
https://www.instagram.com/mj_summers_author/
https://www.facebook.com/MJSummersAuthorPage
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17105602.Melanie_Summers

Spotlight: Silver in the Mist by Emily Victoria

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Silver in the Mist by Emily Victoria is a YA fantasy featuring asexual representation that follows a palace spy sent to infiltrate a neighboring kingdom in hopes of returning magic to her dying land.

Eight years ago, everything changed for Devlin: Her country was attacked. Her father was killed. And her mother became the Whisperer of Aris, the head of the spies, retreating into her position away from everyone… even her daughter.

Joining the spy ranks herself, Dev sees her mother only when receiving assignments. She wants more, but she understands the peril their country, Aris, is in. The malevolent magic force of The Mists is swallowing Aris’s edges, their country is vulnerable to another attack from their wealthier neighbor, and the magic casters who protect them from both are burning out.

Dev has known strength and survival her whole life, but with a dangerous new assignment of infiltrating the royal court of their neighbor country Cerena to steal the magic they need, she learns that not all that glitters is weak. And not all stories are true.

Excerpt

Chapter One

The camp around me is shadowy and asleep—vulnerable—just the way I like it. At my back, metal poles hold lanterns that let out an erratic flicker of a glow. But it doesn’t reach as far in as I am, and even the patrolling soldiers barely stray from their circles of firelight. It’s sloppy, this whole camp.

I feel, rather than see, someone slip into the shadow of the tent behind me.

“Devlin.”

Lochlan’s jesting voice is that low tone that barely carries as far as my ears. I shift closer to the canvas of the tent so they can crouch beside me. “Fancy seeing you here,” they say.

Even though this is serious, my own lips twitch in response. Like me, Lochlan is dressed in tight-fitting clothes with their hood up, dark and practical and perfect for getting up to no good. They tug the strip of cloth covering their face down as they let out a huff. “This thing gets so itchy.”

I raise a brow. “That’s not regulation.”

They give me a look, but it’s edged with that sharp excitement neither of us can hide in the field. It tingles in my own fingertips. I want to get on with it, but as always, the Whisperer’s voice echoes in my head, tempering the impulse.

Take the time to observe. Know the lay of the land.

No matter how many missions I do, how much experience I think I’ve gained, it’s always my mother’s voice that sounds in my head out here in the field.

I scan the tents in front of us. There are three of them in the inner circle, five in the outer. If this camp has the usual layout, then the barracks, the mess, and the supplies will be in the outer tents. The scribes and those in command—in other words, everyone important—will be in this inner ring.

The tent on the far left is larger than the two beside it. All are in that deep navy color that is dyed even darker by the night, which only serves to offset the fabric’s silver lining. The canvas is thick enough that even if there was light inside the tents, we wouldn’t be able to see any silhouettes. It doesn’t give us much to go on, but at least it means once we’re inside, no one will be able to see us either.

“What did you find out?” I ask.

“Captain’s quarters are in the middle. The large one on the left is for the scribes. The last one houses the captain’s two pages.”

“So are the captain’s office and his sleeping quarters the same?”

“Guess.”

I stifle my sigh. That will be a pain to deal with, but it’s not like we haven’t done it before. Multiple times. “The scribes?” 



“They sleep with the soldiers as far as I can tell.”

That’s promising. I scan the area. The captain’s tent is the only one with a guard. The man is bored, idly fiddling with his sword’s sheath. He wears a tunic of soft blue lined with white, so neat it looks as if it’d get dirty if the guard glanced at the ground wrong.

“We can take him,” Lochlan says.

I elbow them. “No evidence outside of the theft, remember?” The scribes’ tent isn’t guarded, and there’s barely a foot of space between it and the captain’s tent beside it. That’s our best chance. “This way.”

We track down the row we’re sheltered by, moving from shadow to shadow, aware of the guards and the torchlight hovering just around the corners. At the end of the lane, I wait for the guard’s attention to shift and then we’re just two shadows slipping over the grassy gap. The canvas of the scribes’ tent is secured with thick ties, and I undo the row to let us in.

The space is shadowy in the dark and I take a moment to let my eyes adjust. Rows of portable desks fill the tent so tightly I have to step carefully as I ghost between them, Lochlan behind me.

The desks are littered with papers and worn writing implements, and among them lie pieces of filigree. The delicate swirls of the silvery patterns shine in the darkness, like fallen pieces of moonglow. My fingers hover over them. We aren’t supposed to leave any evidence, but I can’t resist swiping a couple of the shards into my pocket. This is a Cerenian camp. They won’t notice one or two missing pieces of filigree, while we need all the stolen magic we can get.

Behind me, Lochlan pauses as they look at the filigree.



Even though I can’t make out the expression on their face from this angle, I know what will be there. Loss.

I nudge them. “Bet you a week’s worth of chores I can find what we need first.”

Lochlan’s eyes glint in the dark as they grin. “You’re going to regret that.”

“You wish.”

A couple more ties get us out the far wall, and I give a quick glance to make sure the guard can’t see us before slipping into the captain’s tent.

He’s a snorer. That much is obvious as we step in and a grinding noise like rocks being smashed together echoes over to us. Lochlan’s face contorts in laughter and I grab their face cloth and yank it back over their mouth.

There’s not much in here. Besides the bed, the only things are a camp desk and a chest. Well, that and the clothes scattered all over the place. There’s even a discarded sword not a foot away from where I stand. He’s not a strict captain then. I’m betting he’s the type to leave his papers lying out rather than filing them away at the end of the day.

I take the desk and sure enough, it’s cluttered with writing instruments and parchment. The Whisperer ordered us to bring back the original orders from the Cerenian monarch that sent these soldiers here. I don’t know exactly what they will say, but I can guess. There are a number of patrolling camps that work their way up and down the Cerenian border, making sure it’s secure. Normally they follow the exact same route. This camp, though, is well into the neutral territory of the Peaks.

The last true attack from Cerena was decades ago, long before I was born, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t planning another. I can’t see why else they would have strayed so far into the Peaks, when it’s such difficult territory to cover. We can’t face the Mists and an army.

My fingers shift through the papers, careful to disturb them as little as possible. Then in the dark, I catch the image of a songbird sitting on a branch: Cerena’s royal seal. The orders themselves are written in code but that seal means this is what we’ve come for.

I lift the paper high, so Lochlan can see it.

I win.

The snoring cuts off. I drop to a crouch behind the desk. As I peer around its edge I see the captain blinking sleepy eyes open.

I look at where Lochlan is hiding behind the chest. They’re closer to where we entered than I am. They should be able to get out if they move right now, before the captain is fully awake.

I wave my hand at them. They hesitate, but I give them a glare. Moving as silent as a shadow, they’re gone.

There’s a creak from the bed as the captain gets up, muttering beneath his breath. His footsteps come closer, padding over the canvas floor. My hand finds the knife at my hip. As soon as he’s close enough, I’ll jab the knife in his leg. Then I’ll run.

Fast.

His feet come into view and I’m tensing to move when there’s a panicked shout from outside. It’s taken up, the sound multiplying.

What did Lochlan do?

The captain grabs his boots and races outside. As soon as he’s gone, I slip out the side of the tent. I smell the smoke the moment I’m free, the ring of light at the eastern outskirts of the camp now shining decidedly angrier.

“A lantern has fallen!” someone shouts. “Bring water!”

The camp is a flurry of activity. All of the soldiers, most only half-dressed and with mussed hair, are heading one way. I catch a clear moment and dash in the opposite direction.

I dart between the tents, breaking out of the last line and plunging into the forest at the base of the mountain. It’s darker beneath the trees, the branches scratching at my clothes, and even though I’m risking a broken ankle, I don’t slow. Better a broken ankle than an arrow in my back.

The ground beneath my feet turns from moss to dirt to stone, and the forest fades as I track up the path.

I turn the corner, and there it is.

A wall of white clings to the mountain like a shroud. It’s so thick I can’t even make out the rocks in it. All I can see are the flashes of lightning deep in its depths, bright and fierce.

The Mists.

Lochlan sits on a rock just outside the border of white, idly swinging one of their legs. Their hood is already down, showing their auburn hair with the single streak of gray, currently tied back into a ponytail. The filigree lantern we’d hidden on our way down shines at their feet, sparking off their bright green eyes.

I tug the cloth away from my face. “What did you set on fire?”

They grin at me. “You’re welcome.”

There’s a shout behind us from the direction of the camp and we plunge into the Mists.

Excerpted from Silver in the Mist. Copyright © 2022 by Emily Victoria. Published by Inkyard Press.

Buy on Amazon | Bookshop.org

About the Author

Emily Victoria is a Canadian prairie girl who writes young adult science fiction and fantasy. When not wordsmithing, she likes walking her overexcitable dog, drinking far too much tea, and crocheting things she no longer has the space to store. Her librarian degree has allowed her to work at a library and take home far too many books.

Connect:

Author Website: https://www.avictoriantale.com/

Twitter: @avictoriantale

Instagram: @avictoriantale