Promenade Morgan Shamy (The Dark Nocturne, #3) Publication date: July 26th 2022 Genres: Mystery, Paranormal, Young Adult
When time isn’t on your side…
With Vincent gone, November is left exposed. Having lost everyone she loves, she’s desperate to find a new life. It could’ve been possible—until a group of Shadow Fae who blames her for Vincent’s death. Now, her only chance at survival is to deliver to them a live Vincent or face her own fate. Problem is, the dead can’t be brought back to life. So her only choice is to travel back in time and find him.
In London, 1901, Vincent and November reunite. But he isn’t who she thought he was. He’s a rake, an aristocrat, with no recollection of her. But that isn’t all her troubles. A Shadow Wraith is on her back, trying to take her back to her own time, and the Shadow Fae are still hunting her down. November must find a way to make Vincent remember who she is and change the future, before time, and her death catches up with her.
“Who’s there?” he asked. “I want to be left alone.”
She couldn’t find her voice. He was so beautiful sitting there, so flawless, except for the sadness that emanated from off his body. His mood was as dark as the landscape, she could almost see the dark waves that rippled off from him.
“It’s me, Vincent.”
He stiffened, every inch of him freezing. His fingers dug into his lap, and he swallowed again.
“I’m going to ask one more time,” he said. “Who’s there?”
November closed the door behind her and stepped into the room. Air flowed in and out of the open windows, not a breeze, more like an energy that pushed and pulled between the bell tower and the land outside.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispered, and her voice stuck in her throat.
Morgan Shamy is an ex-ballerina turned YA writer. She has been immersed in the arts since the young age of 4, where she performed various roles alongside a professional ballet company for over seven years, and has danced on prestigious stages like soloing at Carnegie Hall in New York City. She has taught hundreds of girls in her fifteen years of teaching, where some of her students have received full-ride scholarships to schools like School of American Ballet, the Harid Conservatory, Kirov Academy of Ballet, and Pacific Northwest Ballet, to name a few.
Morgan discovered writing when her three-year-old son was diagnosed with cancer. It was through that experience which instilled the need to share art and magic with children through words on the page.
Morgan is also an accomplished concert pianist. She was the first girl in Utah to receive the 75 pt. Gold Cup in the Utah Federation of Music in piano solo/concerto competition. Morgan currently lives with her X-Games gold-medalist husband and four children in Salt Lake City, Utah.
Of Fae & Hate Quirah Casey (Of Fae & Hate, #1) Publication date: July 23rd 2022 Genres: Adult, Reverse Harem, Urban Fantasy
Hate is a strong word, but at the Nadouraz Academy it’s deadly.
I never wanted to attend Nadouraz Academy. The school for fae is full of spoiled, bratty, powerful royals. I’m none of those things. Most importantly, no one even knows if I’m even fae.
The first week of school I find myself in a rivalry with more fae than I can keep track of, but it becomes the least of my worries when I end up cursed. What’s worse is that the curse binds me to three fae I hate and one who just may be a demon from the darkest pits of hell: Soskia, Alik, Fox, and Brynsyn.
Now a promise to give the pretentious academy a try, an unbreakable contract, and a wicked curse may seal my death.
I’m halfway to my dorm when I become aware of footsteps marching in time with mine.
I whirl around prepared to give the fox guy another piece of my mind, but I pull up short when I see the guy who’d waved at me the first day I got here.
His eyes are a mystic green that seem to swirl with magic as he watches me. His lips spread into a wide grin, showing off pearly white teeth. He drifts close to me, a chain hanging from his dark jeans. When he stops a foot away from me, my eyes move down to his nails, taking in the black polish covering them.
“Let me guess, you want to take on round three of my anger,” I say to him coldly, preparing myself for another argument.
Just my fucking luck.
But instead of saying that I don’t know who he is or one of those other cheesy lines that seem to be in abundance at this school, he only huffs out a laugh. His eyes twinkle as they roam over me. “I’m not here for an argument. I figured I could escort you to your room, keep you out of trouble since you seem to attract it.”
Mirth dances in his eyes.
“Really? Because something tells me you’re the exact type of trouble I need to avoid.” He gives me the classic bad boy vibes and how could he not with his leather jack, dark features, and crooked smile. He’s shirtless under the jacket, but I refuse to let my eyes really inspect all the smooth, toned skin.
“Me?” he asks, placing a hand to his chest. “I’m about as innocent as they come around here.”
“Why do I doubt that?” I ask even as my shoulders relax.
“Because you’re a smart girl,” he drawls, moving close to me until we’re almost standing chest to chest.
Heat swarms my body as I tilt my head back to look up at him. My breath stutters in my chest as his eyes swirl from green to a near pitch black. The sense to run away overwhelms me but it’s battled by the feel to get even closer to him.
I lean closer to him, my mind obviously made up about which side we want to be on.
He chuckles and I feel him reach up and wrap a lock of my hair around his finger. I watch out of the corner of my eye as he twirls the curly, purple hair. He chuckles as he pulls a piece of spaghetti from the strand.
“So does that mean you’re going to let me escort you to your room, gorgeous?” he asks, raising a brow.
Okay, yeah, definitely trouble.
It feels like I’m broken from a trance as I take a step away from him and yet my heart is still beating rapidly in my chest. The urge to get closer to him is still strong but I choose wisely this time, moving away from him.
“You can walk me,” I tell him. “But if you try any bullshit-”
“You’ll threaten to smack me like the other bitches?” he asks in amusement.
I blink. “You’ve been following me?” I ask.
“As it happens, I wasn’t following you, not at first,” he says, but he doesn’t elaborate any further. He turns, walking away and I only stare at him. He pauses, looking over his shoulder at me and raising a brow. “Are you going to come?” he asks and I realize he’s already walking in the direction of my dorm.
I move to catch up with him, keeping space between us as I fall into step behind him. He noticeably slows the pace of his long legs.
“You know, if you’re trying to convince me that you’re not stalking me, the fact that you know where my dorm is isn’t helping,” I tell him.
He peeks down at me, “And yet, you’re still following me.”
Conversation dulls as we walk the rest of the way to my dorm, but it’s surprisingly pleasant. I don’t feel any pressure to speak to him, nor is the silence awkward.
When we make it to my room, I find myself wishing the trip wasn’t over. After running into so many annoying, over chatty people, this guy is like a reprieve.
I lean against my door, one hand behind me on the handle as I look up at him. “I don’t believe I quite caught your name.”
“That’s because I didn’t give it to you, Nerrysa Ebirac.”
“Definitely a stalker then,” I mutter before raising my voice slightly, “because I definitely didn’t tell you mine either.”
“No, you didn’t,” he agrees, drifting close again.
“And you seem to have a problem with personal space as well,” I tell him as he twirls yet another lock of my hair. Thankfully, food doesn’t come with it this time.
His grin is ruthless and when he leans close to me, his breath fanning over my neck, I decide he just may be combustible. Because I’m on fucking fire.
His lips move so close to my neck that I can feel them brushing over my skin as he speaks. “I have a lot of problems to be honest,” he mutters, “but you may be my solution, little Nerys.” I have no idea what he means, but I really don’t give a fuck, feeling dizzy from his close proximity.
His fingers dance over my hip before suddenly he’s pulling away.
He takes a step back, eyes bright. “And my name is Brynsyn Challard,” he says before disappearing down the hall, leaving me confused and eerily enticed.
Quirah is still a new author, but not new to writing. She has been writing since the first grade, and has been winning awards since kindergarten, when she told her teacher about her trip to Chicago. Her teacher wrote down the story for her and she won the young authors contest at 5 years old! Quirah plans on working hard in the next couple of years to publish as many books as possible from her chöąts world.
In the meantime, catch up and follow Quirah online at the following links below.
Other People’s Butterflies Cora Ruskin Publication date: June 22nd 2021 Genres: Contemporary, Young Adult
Gwen Foster has never been kissed. But when she gets the chance to finally see what all the hype is about, it’s with her best friend’s crush. Embroiled in relationship drama she doesn’t understand, and ostracized from her friend group, Gwen escapes the angst by using her favorite femme fatale as a role model… and makes snooping on her classmates her new pastime.
Gwen’s detective work appears to be going well, until an unknown social media account starts spilling all the scandalous personal details she’s uncovered. Now this wannabe spy must stop whoever is behind it before everyone’s dirty laundry is aired, and Gwen is forced to finish high school without any friends.
Other People’s Butterflies is a coming-of-age contemporary mystery about not needing to find your first love – but yourself – and how to mend the relationships that matter to you.
Two hours later, I have a new favorite movie. I also have a new favorite character and her name is Lana Barrington. She’s a badass double agent (or possibly a triple agent or a double reverse quadruple agent – the plot of Dead Tulips is pretty confusing) who’s so devious that her own dad nicknames her “Poison Candy”. She’s very femme fatale-ish, with black hair and blood-red lips. She wears this pearl necklace, and one of the pearls is full of cyanide in case she ever finds herself in a jam. In the movie she gets into, like, seventeen jams, but she never bites down on the cyanide pearl because she always finds a way to wiggle out of it. She also has a little black book, which looks empty because she writes in invisible ink, and she keeps information about everyone she meets in it.
I didn’t get the point of the little black book at first, because she wasn’t writing down state secrets or anything – it was all stuff like which cocktail waitress a married man flirts with at a bar, or who’s been pawning their grandmother’s jewelry. Gossipy stuff. But then there’s a scene where a guy asks her about it and she says “Information is currency. And I mean to be very rich.”
By the time I leave the cinema, it’s dark and the air is biting cold. My breath swirls around my face like smoke. On my way to the bus stop I nip into Superdrug and buy a packet of black hair dye and a deep red lipstick called “Kiss of Death”.
On Monday morning, I color my lips with the Kiss of Death lipstick and examine my reflection in my bedroom mirror. I think I look pretty good with black hair, though Mum says it washes me out. I’m hoping the red lipstick doesn’t get any stink eye from teachers like Mrs. Clearwater, who are overzealous when it comes to enforcing the school’s dress code. Sixth form girls are allowed to wear make-up, but it has to be “workplace appropriate” make-up. No glitter, no goth stuff, no crazy color combinations. It doesn’t make sense to me. Supposedly they’re getting us used to workplace dress codes, but what if we end up working as children’s entertainers or bar staff in a goth nightclub?
I feel different. I feel like a snake that’s shed its skin – all new and shiny and venomous.
Cora Ruskin is a part-time MSc student of Science Communication, and works for a charity that helps victims of crime. Writing gets squeezed in between the two. She lives in Bristol, England, with five housemates and a very messy kitchen. “Other People’s Butterflies” is her debut novel.
Ellinor Rask has wanted one thing for the past eight years: vengeance. But when Ellinor is captured, she finds herself dragged back into the world she walked away from, entangled once more with friends she would rather forget.
As if that weren’t humiliating enough, Ellinor learns first hand that her magic can be stripped away by a piece of bio-tech—and her ex-boss is happy to leash her with the technology in order to get what he wants. If Ellinor behaves, the device will be removed. All she has to do is deliver a package. One containing a creature created from raw magical energy and discarded technology. Simple, right?
But when her goals start getting people murdered, Ellinor has to decide if the year’s planning, her honor, and even her own magic, are worth the lives it’s costing. Dodging ruthless gangsters, she finds herself on the run with a creature of immeasurable magical abilities alongside her one-time friends. Now, Ellinor must relearn to trust the people she once abandoned. She must put her faith in technology, and her life in the hands of independent contractors, all while racing to deliver the package before it gets taken by force, or worse, the creature decides to make an appearance itself.
THIS WAS not the first time Ellinor Olysha Rask found herself bound and chained, and she very much doubted it would be her last. This was the longest she had ever been incarcerated, however.
Ellinor leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes, though it made no difference in the pitch black. She wiggled against the rough wall, never getting comfortable. The restraints clamped over her wrists chaffed at her skin. She lost count of the days she’d been locked in the rank cell, but she supposed it didn’t actually matter how long she’d been there, only how much longer she’d be staying.
She sighed loudly, her patience long gone. Not that she had been blessed with an abundance of composure to begin with, but her restraint had diminished considerably since Misho’s death.
Heaviness settled on her chest and shoulders as she imagined Misho’s disapproving tsk at her current predicament, and her chin started to quiver. Gritting her teeth, she knocked her head against the bumpy wall to focus her thoughts. She always lost control when she thought about Misho Shimizu, and she didn’t want to lose what little control she had left. She needed to conserve her energy.
For what? There’s no telling how long I’ve been here, or who took me. Time to stop waiting.
She hadn’t recognized who grabbed her, or how they had gotten the drop on her. She had been drinking, of course, but no more than usual. One minute, Ellinor was meeting with a contact who had information about the Ashlings she was hunting. Ashlings who needed to answer for what was done to Misho. The next? She couldn’t remember. The air—her own power!—had betrayed her. Everything went white and hazy, and a fog rolled over her memories.
She sat up straighter against the wall, breathing deeply, ignoring the aches and pains of her cramped muscles. Whatever had happened, poisoning or a knock over the head, had left her weak. Concentrating had been a chore, let alone summoning her magic. She knew she wasn’t at full strength, but better to do something than continue to wait around for whoever had nabbed her to remember they had her locked away.
Ellinor had heard of humani, beings like her, who were strong enough in air magic to blow apart buildings, and who had the skill to dismantle the most intricate of machines without destroying any of the delicate parts. Ellinor had never been that strong, nor that finessed with her talents. She had enough of the talent to make her someone most would shy away from, and it had been more than enough for her job. Using the air, she could turn otherwise fatal blows from knives or projectiles away, and coupled with her own abilities for creating mayhem, her magic had served her well, or well enough, until Misho died.
Then her power turned her into someone, something, most didn’t want to talk about. Someone the remainder of her family distanced themselves from. She lived only to avenge Misho.
The seersha, though . . . now they would have no trouble using wind to blow apart this cell, no matter how far underground they’d have to pull the air. They’d be able to use that same current to wrap themselves in an impenetrable force field then simply sail away like some cocky bird.
That didn’t mean she couldn’t cause some trouble, though.
Born and raised in Southern California, Chelscey has stayed within a 60 mile radius of Los Angeles her whole life, something she has been told is rather unique. She attended the University of Southern California for both her undergraduate studies and master’s degree, specializing in Communication Management. Then one day, she moved to New Orleans with her husband, two cats, and her dog. Getting all 5 of them there from Los Angeles to New Orleans becoming an incredible adventure in and of itself. And then doing it again as they returned to Los Angeles two years later was equally as adventuresome.
Chelscey met her husband in high school, embarking on a journey that could best be described as “your grandparents love story”. Meaning that she married her high school sweetheart, she has also been told that this is a terribly romantic story though it all seems rather common place to her. After they both finished college and began working, they got married and adopted 2 cats, because Chelscey’s husband loves cats. Chelscey herself is more of a dog person, but it took them a bit longer to adopt a dog then it did the cats…
Once upon a time Chelscey also worked in the advertising industry. She worked on a wide variety of accounts, everything from fast food, to automotive, and video games. The latter of which was more of her passion as she had researched and written her master’s thesis on if playing video games with your romantic partner helped or hurt the relationship (she found it did neither).
In case you haven’t noticed by now, Chelscey is a proud nerd. She collects the Uncanny X-Men comic book series and plays video games. It made her uniquely qualified to work in the gaming industry on the advertising side of the business. And while she still loves gaming, she became disillusioned with the politics behind advertising and how it affected a medium she considers to have great creative potential. And while Chelscey has always been a passionate lover of writing and reading (particularly Fantasy, Science Fiction, and Historical Fiction) she never thought that she could turn her passion into a career. But opportunity rarely knocks more than once and Chelscey decided to answer the door, even without fully knowing what would lay on the other side.
Chelscey is also a big fan of tattoos (she has several herself) and dying her hair. Currently, Chelscey’s favorite color was her ombre blue mermaid hair. She felt it was important for you to know this.