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Thursday, November 6, 2014

Hansel - Part Two (Hansel #2) by Ella James New Release 99 Cents!!!

Hansel - Part Two (Hansel #2) by Ella James New Release


Hansel - Part Two
(Hansel #2)
by Ella James 

 99 CENTS!




AMAZON

He was Hansel. 

She was Gretel. 

Once upon a time, they shared a prison wall inside a crazy woman's house. When they meet again, he has a whip. She wears a mask. And fear runs high - for so many reasons. What will happen when the mask comes off, the walls come down? Fairy tales are cautionary tales, remember?



Haven't started reading the Hansel series yet? 





 

AUTHOR BIO:

Ella James is a Colorado author who writes teen and adult romance. She is happily married to a man who knows how to wield a red pen, and together they are raising a feisty two-year-old who will probably grow up believing everyone's parents go to war over the placement of a comma.

Ella's books have been listed on numerous Amazon bestseller lists, including the Movers & Shakers list and the Amazon Top 100; two were listed among Amazon's Top 100 Young Adult Ebooks of 2012.

Author links:

Wednesday, November 5, 2014

Enforce by Rachel Van Dyken Synopsis & Chapter 1 Reveal!








There’s two sides to every story...
And ours? Isn't pretty...
Then again, what's pretty about the mafia?
Trace Rooks, that’s what.
But she only wants one of us, and I'll kill him before I let him have her.
The only problem?
We're cousins.
And she may just be our long lost enemy.
Whoever said college was hard, clearly didn't attend Eagle Elite University.
Welcome to hell also known as the Mafia where blood is thicker than life, and to keep yours? Well, keep your friends close, and your enemies?

Even closer...













CHAPTER 1


Nixons POV
Chapter One
Nixon
            I watched as the parade of cars made their way through the black iron gates, as if somehow those gates would protect them if the country went to war. Funny, they had no clue that the war—Lucifer himself, was already parading around inside, safe from the police- the feds- anyone who would be a threat.
            Safe from everyone but me.
            My eyes flickered to Phoenix on my right, he grinned as a new girl walked up to him and gave him a flirty wave.
            I elbowed him hard in the ribs.
            His grin turned sour as he glared at the girl and flipped her off.
            Remember your place.
            I’d said it once, twice, a million times to the guys, and they were still struggling with the idea that they weren’t here to go to school, they weren’t here to make friends. We weren’t at peace. We were in a freaking war zone.
            And Phoenix’s family was our only key to redemption.
            “That seems to be the last of them.” Chase’s cool gaze surveyed the main road that led into campus. It was easier on security to have one road in and one road out. Too bad life wasn’t that convenient.
            If someone didn’t belong—it would take us minutes, scratch that, seconds to eliminate them, their family, all while making it look like a very unfortunate accident.
            “Wait,” Tex squinted towards the iron gates, “I think there’s one more car.”
            “The hell there is.” I muttered, “I counted the cars, I’ve looked at the lists, we aren’t missing anyone.”
            Chase yanked the list out of my hand and started reading through the names of all the freshman enrollees. His grin made me about lose my shit as he lifted his head and handed back the paper.
            “I hear Wyoming’s beautiful this time of year.”
            “What?” I jerked the list away and started greedily reading through the names.
            One stood out.
            Trace Rooks, Female, 18, Casper, Wyoming.
            “Great.” I dropped the list onto the ground and smirked, “A girl who probably smells like cow shit. What’s her background?”
            Nobody answered.
            I said it louder, this time grinding my teeth together.
            Tex was the first to answer, “We couldn’t really find any.”
            “Couldn’t. Really. Find. Any.” I repeated. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
            “Look,” Tex shook his head, “We have Sergio on it, but the girl doesn’t really have a lot of information about her. Parents dead, Grandma dead, Grandpa her only living relative and somehow her social as well as her birth certificate were both lost.”
            “Lost.” I licked my lips. I told my head not to go there, told my heart to stay in my damn chest and stop hoping as images flooded my mind. Dark hair, dark eyes, “Nixon, I’ll save you.”
            “Dude, you okay?” Chase elbowed me.
            “Let’s go welcome her to Eagle Elite.”
            Nobody moved.
            “I said,” I started marching towards the girls dorms, “Let’s go welcome her.”
            “Why do I have a feeling this is a really bad idea?” Tex said under his breath.
            “For once, Tex, keep your mouth shut and stay in the background, paste a shit eating grin on your face and let me and Chase deal with this. Do you think you can do that? Hmm?”
            “Take a Xanax.” Phoenix grumbled.
            I sent a seething glare in his direction.
            He mumbled a curse and walked off with Tex to wait by the tree while we continued the next few feet to the girls dorms.
            The car was a rental.
            The grandpa was ancient.
            The girl was…young.
            And she had shit as belongings. Her suitcase was covered with stickers, her grandpa handed her a small box, and I could have sworn I saw a tear escape her eye and roll down her smooth cheek.
            “Hell no.” I grumbled, “She’ll be destroyed here.”
            “Won’t last five minutes.” Chase agreed.
            “Tears.” I wiped my face with my hands, “Tell me I’m not seeing tears.”
            “Girls don’t cry here.”
            “They don’t.” I agreed.
            “She isn’t like them.”
            “No.”
            “We need Mo.”
            I laughed at that, “We need a miracle.” With a curse, I quickly dialed the number for orientation and made arrangements for the New Girl to be moved to the United States room. Mo was supposed to be on that same floor. I figured she needed all the help she could get. No way would little Wyoming survive the year with anyone else, not that I was happy about it. I mean in hindsight that was probably my first mistake.
            I’d officially invited her into my life—by way of my sister.
            “New girls here.” I said loud enough for Tracey to turn around and gape. So squeaky clean and innocent. Like a little lamb, right, Chase?” I tilted my head and offered her a smirk.
            The old man reached in his jacket. It was a move I knew well. Another clue. He wasn’t what he said he was. He wasn’t who he said he was. As if noticing my calculating glare, he removed his hand and offered a forced smile, “A welcoming committee? This place sure is nice.”
            I had to respect his control. The way he protectively stood in front of Tracey as if he was the only thing standing in the way of my devouring her.
            “Is there a problem?” He scratched his head, causing his shirt sleeve to fall, revealing a small tattoo. One I’d seen as a child but couldn’t place.
            “Do I know you?” I blurted.
            He laughed, “Know any farmers out in Wyoming?”
            It was his tone that convinced me, the way his shook his head slightly, waiting for my challenge. It was the same look my Uncle gave me when he wanted me to stop pushing.
            It was the look that my dad taught me when I was ten and witnessed my first torture.
            The girl was still staring at us. Easy target. I’d leave the old man alone, he reminded me too much of mine. And I didn’t need that reminder, not now.
            I lifted my arms and stretched lazily.
            The girls eyes went wide as she stared at my body.
            Chase hit me in the stomach.
            I sauntered forward and tilted her chin towards me, closing her mouth in the process. “Much better,” I licked my lips and fought the urge to kiss her. Yeah, I was losing my shit. “We’d hate for our charity case to choke on an insect on her first day.” Her lips trembled as she looked from me to her Grandpa. I released her before she could do anything, and walked past, with Chase in tow.
            I needed to talk to the girl at registration anyways. We disappeared behind the building, but I’d be back. I just needed the Grandpa to leave.
            Within seconds the rental car was driving away. And the girl as all mine. My heart thudded against my chest, and for a second, I regretted what I was about to do.
            But every possible outcome ended with either her death, or her in danger. And for some reason, I didn’t want someone like her at Eagle Elite. She didn’t belong in my world.
            She deserved a picket fence.
             A husband.
            A good college experience without classmates who’d rather see her commit suicide then survive the next four years.
            They would destroy her.
            And she would make it so damn easy to do so.
            The only way—was to beat them to it. To be the first, marking her as our target, our play-thing.
            Nobody messed with what was mine.
            And in the end, nobody would mess with her. They’d allow me to entertain them with her innocence. I’d dangle her in front of them like a carrot, and at the end of the day, she’d be untouchable.
            I sighed as she looked up at the building gaping like someone who’d been homeschooled and never seen a sky scraper before.
            She was too skinny.
            I made a mental note to get her one of my access cards—she didn’t need to know how much they cost—or that every single student at EE would kill to have one. Mo would take care of the rest.
            She’d eat with us.
            She’d want for nothing.
            It was the least I could do after what I was about to make her endure.
            Licking my lips I approached her again, this time, damning myself to hell with each step I took. “Are you lost?”
            “Nope.” She grinned, damn it made her prettier. “Apparently I live in the United States.” With a shrug she tried and failed to lift her heavy suitcase and nearly toppled over onto her cute ass.
            I muffled a laugh, knowing that Chase was doing the exact same thing. Being mean to her would be like kicking a puppy. But the world was ugly. I just hated that I would be her tutor in the ways of reality—her prince of darkness.
            Damn, I would have done anything to be the hero.
            “I’m Nixon.” I stood directly in front of her, shifting my eyes from her poorly fitting clothes to her ugly shoes.
            “Tracey, but everyone calls me Trace.” She held out her hand.
            I itched to touch it.
            To touch her skin.
            Instead, I scowled, shook her hand, then wiped that same hand on my jeans as if she was diseased.
            “Rules.”
            “What?” She took a step back.
            Chase moved past me, “He’s right. As cute as you are, Farm Girl, someone needs to tell you the rules.”
            Her gaze narrowed, “Can it be fast?”
            Yeah, again, I almost lost my mind. Chase was probably ready to shit his pants. The last person that talked back to him was Phoenix and that ended with a few broken bones and a trip to the dentist.
            “You hear that Chase?” I said amused, “She likes it fast.”
            “Pity,” Chase took a step closer, nearly touching her with his body, “I’d like to give it to her slow.” His eyes raked her in, as if she was the first girl he’d ever seen in his entire existence. Jealousy surged through me. What he hell? She wasn’t’ his. Not that she was mine, but still. He was standing too close, too close.
            “The rules.” He stepped back. My heart beat returned to normal, “No speaking to the Elect, unless you’ve been asked to speak to them.” He circled around her staring a little long at her ass before he continued.
            “Who are the--“
            “—Nope. You’ve already broken a rule. I’m speaking New Girl.” Chase smirked. “Geez, Nixon, this one’s going to be hard to break in.”
            “They always are.” I said without taking my eyes from her, “But I think I’ll enjoy this one.” The first true thing I’d said. I would enjoy it too much. I’d enjoy her too much, because she reminded me of someone I used to know. Someone who offered to save me, when I was already past saving, someone who wiped my tears, and cried as if they were her own.
            Chase continued with the rules. Making me sicker as her face continued to fall.
            Finally she asked, “Is that all?”
            “No.” Raw desire pulsed through me as I approached her, needing to touch her, needing to make sure she was real even though I knew I was acting like a complete and utter lunatic. Chase and I would have words later. He knew me better than I knew myself sometimes. I was going too far, pushing myself, pushing him.
            My hand caressed her face, then moved down her smooth neck to her shoulder. I wanted to claim her, to possess her, to make her scream—but not with fear, with utter ecstasy. I had no idea who she was, but she made me want. And that was the problem.
            For the first time in years. I wanted.
            I wasn’t allowed to want.
            I had to die to myself.
            Because in the grand scheme of things? It wasn’t about me. It was about blood, family, protection. Blood in, blood out.
            Her eyes dilated. Furious that she’d reacted so easily, upset with myself for making my own body suffer, I snapped.
            “You feel this? Memorize it now, because as of this moment, you can’t touch us. We are untouchable. If you as much as sneeze in our direction, if you as much breathe the same air in my atmosphere. I will make your life hell. This touch, what you feel against your skin, will be the only time you feel another human being as powerful as me near you. So like I said, feel it, remember it, and maybe one day, your brain will do you the supreme favor of forgetting what it felt like to have someone like me touching you. Then, and only then, will you be able to be happy with some mediocre boyfriend and pathetic life.” Away from me. Away from it all. Safe.
            A few more tears escaped down her cheek.
            And I knew in that moment. It was the beginning of the end.
            My end.
            My downfall.
            My demise.








Elect:

Entice:
 B&N

Elicit: 


BANG BANG:
 B&N





Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.

She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband and their snoring Boxer, Sir Winston Churchill. She loves to hear from readers! You can follow her writing journey at
www.rachelvandykenauthor.com


Saturday, November 1, 2014

Birthright Bestowed by Erika Szabo

Title: Birthright Bestowed
Author: Erika M Szabo
Series: Ilona The Hun Trilogy
Genre: Fantasy/Magical-Realism/Romance/Mystery/Urban fantasy
Publisher: 5 Prince Publishing
Release Date: October 18 2012
Edition/Format: Ebook and Print
Synopsis

Ilona is an emergency room doctor, born into an ancient Hun tribe which still exists hidden amongst us with its strict and fiercely enforced rules. She doesn’t know much about her Hun heritage besides legends, customs and rituals that she continues out of respect for her parents whose sudden death ten years before devastated her. She plays her tune on her birthday given to her by her grandmother. Elza – Ilona’s housekeeper - explains the purpose of the tune is to let the elders know she had come to age. Her mother didn’t have a chance to explain her inherited powers, but after her 29th birthday when she is considered as an adult by Hun standards, she begins to remember the forgotten instructions concealed as rhymes her mother was teaching her since she was a small child. Ilona discovers she can heal with her bare hands; she can rearrange the human body to its healthy state. This ability is exciting as well as frightening. She is conflicted between having confidence in her intelligence and inherited abilities while having no confidence as a woman. Her insecurity created barriers which keep others out, and I also keep her caged in. She’s been in love with her unsuspecting best friend Bela, when a dashing stranger explodes into her life. The sudden magnetic feeling frightens her and discovering evil in him doesn’t help either. A sinister dark man appears Ilona connects his presence with the series of mysterious deaths around her. Zoltan saves her life by jeopardizing his, which prompts Ilona to start fitting the puzzle pieces together and discovering the ancient tribal secrets that not only can change her future but the future existence of the Huns as well.


Excerpt

I was dreaming.

In the dream I was about four or five with pigtails, wearing a ruffled white dress. We were in a grocery store; I was happily hopping and singing, holding onto my mother’s hand, delighted to be with her as always. She smiled at me. Her hand was warm and silky, and her lustrous dark reddish hair flowed to her mid-back. She had the deepest blue eyes, framed by long lashes. Her eyes promised love and security. I admired her and wanted to be with her all the time. To my childish disappointment, she was busy for the biggest part of every day. When she could spend the whole day with me, I enjoyed every moment of our time together. I was chattering away, happy she was paying attention to me, only to me. I was telling her a silly story I’d made up, when I saw an old woman fall in the middle of the aisle. I tore my hand from mother’s grasp and ran over to the woman. She was wincing in pain, lying on the floor. I felt my mother behind me.

“Momma, she is broken. I want to fix her!” I looked up, hoping for her approval.

“All right, sweet pea, you know what to do. Gather the wish in your core and concentrate on it. There you go. You’re doing fine. Now, put your hands on her. Don’t be afraid, go ahead!” I heard my mother’s velvety voice, and I felt her hand on my shoulder. As I touched the woman’s hip, I felt warmth emanating from my fingers. A serene, satisfied feeling washed over me.

I sat up in bed startled. My room was dark; the digital clock blinked two in the morning. Whoa, where did that dream come from? I whispered quietly. I fluffed my pillow, pulled the comforter up to my chin and immediately fell back asleep.

The sun woke me around seven. It snuck little fingers through the lace curtains, tickling my nose. I sneezed, yawned, and then I stretched lazily under the silky lilac cover. It was a beautiful Sunday morning in early September. The air was spicy with the aroma of ripened fruits. I didn’t have to get up early; I had taken the day off. The birthday girl should enjoy the luxury of sleeping in, I thought, as I rolled on my side, trying to find a comfortable position to go back to sleep. I couldn’t. I recalled my dream clearly and I wished I hadn’t woken up in the middle of it. I was wondering how it might have continued. Perhaps I had healed that woman by touching her. The thought made me smile.

I tossed and turned, trying to figure out what made me feel so wide-awake and keenly aware. My dream had triggered this feeling, I just knew it. A vague and nagging memory in the deep recesses of my mind was trying to surface, yet I couldn’t pry it up close enough to remember. I felt a strange yearning and excitement inside me. This notion was new to me; usually I kept my emotions well under control. I tried to hush it, urging it to leave me alone and let me savor the lazy morning, but I couldn’t. I tried to repress the yearning which was relentlessly creeping up on me. It became pressing, strong and nameless until I finally understood what it was.

I felt a deep urge to heal someone. I thought about the unusual dream and I wondered: I am a doctor. For me it shouldn’t be strange wanting to heal people. This feeling was different from the usual - your illness confirmed I’ll write the prescription – type. I had this strange idea that by touching someone I could instantly wipe away all their illness. Yeah, right! Like that’s ever going to happen. I wish it could be that easy…. I played a little with the inconceivable notion. I tried to figure out why I felt so excited. It couldn’t have been birthday jitters; those days were long gone when I was looking forward to birthdays and gifts. Celebrations became a nuisance rather than enjoyable events. I had resigned myself to leading a quiet, single life, and being a loner.

Suddenly, my mother’s face swam in front of my mind’s eye. Seeing her so clearly took me by surprise. We were celebrating my ninth birthday. I saw everything so clearly, as if a movie were playing in my mind. Mom was smiling and leaning toward me. I had a strong feeling that it was something important she wanted to tell me, but my nine-year-old self just didn’t pay much attention to what she said. The silly girl was eager to open the presents.

“Remember, little one, your twenty-ninth birthday will be the turning point in your life, you will be a grownup. You will find out about your heritage and…”

“But Mo-o-m, I’m only nine years old!” I cut her off angrily, eyeing the present table. “Can I go and open my presents? Pleease!” I whined, tugging at her dress.

“Okay, go, but let me show you something first,” she said. I was eager to find out what was in the big silver-wrapped box, so I just nodded. I saw Mom pulling something small and shiny out of her pocket.

“This necklace will be yours on your twenty-ninth birthday, this is your heritage and represents…”

Why is she showing it to me now if she won’t give it to me? I thought angrily, and I turned toward the table loaded with presents while she was still talking. From the corner of my eye, I noticed a small golden medallion hanging on a leather string between her extended fingers. It was just a necklace, of no meaning to me, so I turned and ran. She was still talking as I left, but my mind was already on the bike I was hoping for.

I wish I had paid more attention back then. She had mentioned the importance of my heritage… and that the necklace represented… What? I couldn’t remember anything else, no matter how hard I tried. It must be important; her message is trying to emerge from the fog filling my brain. Her message must be in my subconscious memory; she was still talking when I turned away from her. I speculated. I tried every method I knew of to recall that memory. I tried to picture Mom in different places, waiting for the memory to click. I tried to picture us in my old room; I recalled other birthdays when I was kid…… but it was no use. She never repeated that sentence, and she never had a chance to give me the necklace. She didn’t live to see my twenty-ninth birthday. Oh Momma, you promised to give me that necklace today, I miss you so much! I sobbed softly into my pillow.


Author Info
I’ve been publishing Alternative Medicine related books. I love healing as passionately as I love to read. Growing up with a father who was a closet reader (having a macho image allowed him to read only in secret which he shared with me after I caught him reading my book ‘The lady of the camellias’ and he left a few teardrops on the pages) he introduced me to many great books. The inspiration to write a novel came from my daughter. I’m an avid reader, and she was yelling at me to stop whining when I didn’t have anything to read. She said, “If you don’t have a book to read, than write one”. The idea shocked me a little at first, because English is my second language, but then I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The history of the Huns always fascinated me, they were my ancestors. I was playing with the idea of writing a fantasy story peppered with historical facts, and then I decided that it was a stupid idea after I started reading about how to write a fiction book. 'I am not a literary genius, I have no idea how to create a good story line or form characters and make up a plot.' I thought, but the idea didn’t leave me alone. I kept adding events and dialogs in my head to Ilona’s story. Not knowing how to do something properly had never prevented me from a accepting a good challenge before, so I sat down by the computer and I began writing. I've never been good at following rules or formulas, therefore I discarded the instructions and I made up my own rules. I began writing Ilona's story as a diary. 'Just for my own enjoyment, writing down the ideas that are swirling in my head is far better than being hunted by them.' I thought. I kept writing for months, and soon I realized that I never had so much fun doing anything in my life before. Somehow the characters came to life on their own, and they developed under my furiously typing fingers. Pretty soon I realized that I wrote about four hundred pages already. I gave the manuscript to my friends to read, and they urged me to publish it. I was elated when I received the publisher’s review about my story that said “I want to give you my overall impression of your work: You have a terrific writing style. You have obviously done a significant amount planning and preparation in crafting your work. Your prose is nicely written with details that capture the reader. Right from the start your plot was very engaging. You do a nice job of slowly making your way through the story with details and a certain voice that allows your reader to really interact with the characters (who are all round and very nicely developed). The greatest value in fiction, it seems to me, lies in what we can learn about our own lives when we take time to analyze someone else’s — even if that someone else is just a character in a story. Characterization is one of the most important elements of any successful story. I always love it when I leave a story feeling like I know the characters. This is true for your prose. So many authors rush through their stories without really developing them. Not you. Your book read like a movie in my mind. You have crafted a quality piece of writing.”


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Friday, October 31, 2014

When We Met by A.L. Jackson, Molly McAdams, Tiffany King & Christina Lee

When We Met by A.L. Jackson, Molly McAdams, Tiffany King & Christina Lee ~ #bookreview

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00INIXHME/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00INIXHME&linkCode=as2&tag=lirebr-20&linkId=YWUJUBQGDSD3SKRM
When We Met


by

Today’s premiere New Adult authors combine their talents to tell four original stories from inside one house.

When four girls decide to live off campus together as juniors at a college in Michigan, they expect it to be their best year yet. Little do they know, it’s a year that will change the rest of their lives.

BEHIND HER EYES by A.L. Jackson
Unable to live down her ex-boyfriend’s deception, Misha is determined to avoid betrayal. When, the new guy next door, Darryn starts to get under her skin, her defenses start to crumble. But trusting Darryn seems impossible, especially if he’s not sure he can trust himself.

SAVING ME by Molly McAdams
On the outside, Indy is always ready for a party—but inside she’s breaking. Kier makes a weekly routine of saving the girl next door from herself on Saturday nights… but when will she be ready to remember him on Sunday morning?

FOULING OUT by Tiffany King
Working at a sports bar, Courtney has become a pro at sidestepping propositions from arrogant jocks—which makes her a more elusive catch for campus basketball star Dalton than he expected. But when he falls for the saucy waitress, Dalton will have to rethink his game plan to prove he’s not the jerk Courtney expects.

BENEATH YOUR LAYERS by Christina Lee
In order to ace her fashion internship, Chloe must team up with local college dropout and set builder, Blake—much to her chagrin. But after some "hands-on" experience, Chloe will have to ask herself if Blake factors into her carefully laid plans…




 

 



 

 

 PRE-ORDER : AMAZON (Kindle)

Book Blitz~ Contact by Laurisa White Reyes







Title: Contact

Author: Laurisa White Reyes       



Genre: Young Adult Urban Fantasy


Publisher: Hallowed Ink Press







Blurb:

It takes only half a second…


 …Like those commercials where a crash test dummy rockets forward at high speed and slams into a wall.

…In that instant, every thought in Emma Lynn Walsh’s head collides with mine—every thought, memory, hope, disappointment and dream.

…I open my eyes to see Dr. Walsh peering at me, a puzzled expression on her face.



“Let—go—of—me,” I order though clenched teeth.



Mira wants to die. She’s attempted suicide twice already, and failed. Every time she comes in contact with another person, skin to skin, that person’s psyche uploads into hers. While her psychologist considers this a gift, for Mira, it’s a curse from which she cannot escape.





To make matters worse, Mira’s father is being investigated in the deaths of several volunteer test subjects of a miracle drug. Shortly after Mira’s mother starts asking questions, she ends up in a coma. Although her father claims it was an accident, thanks to her “condition” Mira knows the truth…but proving it just might get her killed!











After earning her B.A. in English in 1995, Laurisa White Reyes spent many years writing for newspapers and magazines before gathering enough courage to live her dream of writing novels. Contact is her third published book. She is currently pursuing her Master’s degree in creative writing, is a book editor for Hamilton Springs/Xchyler Press, and is the Editor-in-chief of Middle Shelf Magazine. She lives in Southern California with her husband and five children.







Hidden Wings by Cameo Renae

Hidden Wings by Cameo Renae


Title: Hidden Wings
Author: Cameo Renae
Genre: Paranormal Romance

Music and the Hidden Wings playlist
Music plays a significant role in my writing. I find that if the music I’m listening to, feeds the mood of the scene I’m writing, then my writing seems to flow much better. It can alter and set a mood, the atmosphere, and your emotions.

I do find that I am an emotional writer. I want my reader to feel, and experience what my characters are feeling, and music has played a huge part of that. 

So yes, I do use music when I write. It not only helps to block out the outside world, but transports me into my writing world. 

Below are some of the songs and music that I used to write Hidden Wings

Hidden Wings:
While writing I used the musical scores from:
Transformers (Dark Side of the Moon)
Avatar
The Island



Some of the songs I think fit the story are:

Your Guardian Angel by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus
My Immortal by Evanescence
Carry Me Home by Michael Schulte
In My Remains by Linkin Park
Come Away to the Water by Maroon 5 and Rizzi Crane

First Chapter of Hidden Wings:

Chapter 1:
My eyes snapped open. I was on my back, disoriented, with strangers surrounding me. “Seventeen. She’s fading in and out,” a short-winded voice briefed the others.

A red sign glowed as we passed through a set of double doors.

EMERGENCY.

What the hell happened to me?

My heart pounded furiously against my chest. There was excruciating pain, but I couldn’t pinpoint it. It was everywhere. I tried to raise my right arm but it was fastened to some kind of board, and twisted at an abnormal angle. Strong hands held me down as I tried to sit up.

“Just stay still,” a low voice instructed.

Hot tears streamed from my burning, swollen eyes. With every breath, sharp pains shot through my chest, and every beat of my heart sent throbbing pulses through the rest of my body.

I was pulled into a small room and carefully lifted onto a bed where warm blankets quickly replaced the cold, bloodied ones. A bright light blaring down on me made my eyes ache. Faces in white and blue masks scrambled all around me. I tried to speak but my voice was too weak.

“She’s lost a lot of blood.”

Where are my parents?

I focused on the faces surrounding me, but none were familiar.

“We need to start a transfusion, ASAP!” someone instructed from a hidden corner.

I felt a prick on my left arm.

“Blood type?” a nurse asked.

“AB Negative,” another answered.

“AB Negative?” a distressed voice counters. He was hushed and the voices became muffled.

“It’s alright sweetheart. You’ll be just fine,” a female voice whispered from behind her white mask. Her bright, blue eyes fixed on mine, offering a glimmer of hope.

A mask was placed over my nose and mouth just as the pain started to numb. Voices trailed off as I faded into darkness.

*****

Before my eyes opened I felt pain, and slowly peeled my lids back to reveal a hazy world. My right arm was casted and places I never thought existed… ached. My head throbbed and acid twisted in my stomach making me nauseous. Scents of freshly bleached “things” didn’t help much.

I was in an unfamiliar room. The walls were painted in a light pink, with a thin boarder of pastel wallpaper lining the top. A TV hung from the wall, and to the side was a large bay-window with white blinds pulled half-way shut. Wires attached to my arms and face, were connected to a machine next to my bedside.

I glanced around but there were no signs of my parents. Maybe they’d stepped out for a while, or went to get a bite to eat.

Something happened. Something horrible. But I couldn’t remember. My mind was dark and blank, like a fresh canvas waiting to be painted on.

“Knock-knock,” a voice called from the doorway. “Is it alright if I come in?”

A tall, blonde woman with her hair pulled back into a long ponytail, and dressed in a black, pin-striped suit stood in the doorway. Her face was warm, donning wide, green eyes.

I nodded, returning a weak smile.

She stepped into the room and pulled a stray chair from the corner, setting it next to my bedside. After placing her leather briefcase on the floor she reached over and laid her soft, warm hand over mine.

“Hello. My name is Abigail Reed. I’m a social worker assigned to you by the state of California. I’m here to help you.”

Social worker? Assigned to me? Why’d she be assigned to me? What the heck did that mean anyway?

“Can you tell me your name?” she asked, gently squeezing my hand.

“Emma,” my voice exited in a whisper. At least I remembered that much.

“Do you remember anything about the accident?”

“Accident?” I questioned, shaking my head. “I can’t… I don’t remember anything. Where are my parents?” My mother would usually be glued to me if I was hurt or sick, and my dad was always within a glancing distance.

Miss Reed’s eyes flitted downward.

“Emma,” she started, and then paused. Her brow furrowed and then she sighed. “I’m so sorry, Emma. There’s no easy way to tell you-”

“Where are my parents?!” I demanded. A pang of fear surged through me. My heart constricted and doubt rushed through me like a tidal wave. What if they were injured? I needed to know. I needed to see them… NOW!

She took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “Emma… your parents were killed in the accident.”

It took a few moments for my brain to absorb her information.

Your parents were killed. Those horrifying words echoed over and over through my mind. And then it slammed me – reality did – like a Mack truck hitting me at full force. A shattering pain surged through my heart, quickly spreading like a brush fire, torching everything inside of me. My body began to tremble as hot tears of horror and panic sprang from my eyes.

“No-no-no. It’s not true. It can’t be true,” I cried, shaking my head. This had to be a nightmare.

“You’re going to be alright Emma,” Miss Reed said in a calming voice, gently rubbing my hand.

“How could I be alright? I just lost everyone I’d ever loved!” I suddenly realized I was alone; an only child – no aunts, no uncles, no grandparents, no surviving kin.

My world started to dive into an uncontrollable spin, and my mind became completely numb. “How… how did it happen?” I sobbed, looking directly into saddened eyes for answers.

“Well, it seems that the car you were all in, swerved off an embankment, and hit a tree while traveling at a very high speed. There were no other cars involved, so the police are running an investigation. They think it could’ve been an animal, but they aren’t certain. If it’s any consolation, your parents didn’t suffer. It was a complete miracle that you survived,” she said softly.

I couldn’t think. All I heard were loud sobbing sounds…from me. Ms. Reed suddenly became quiet.

“So what now? What happens to me?” I asked, swiping the tears from my face. Foster care? I was too old for adoption and would never let that happen anyway. Maybe my friends would take me in. In a year I’d be eighteen anyway, and could technically take care of myself. But the mere thought of being alone sent acid racing through my stomach.

Abigail cleared her throat. “Well, Emma. We’ve been contacted by a woman,” she uttered slowly, cautiously, looking at me, while her hands twisted nervously around each other. “Her name is Alaine Gray, and she’s asked the courts to appoint her full guardianship over you.”

“Alaine Gray? I’ve never heard of her.” I tried to think of all my parents’ acquaintances. None of them were named Alaine Gray, and I was sure this was the first time I’d heard that name.

She paused… “Alaine Gray is your aunt.”

“Aunt?” I shrieked. “There’s no way she can be my aunt. I don’t have any living relatives… Not anymore!” She paused, and glanced down to her briefcase on the floor and sucked in a deep breath. “Well, I hope the courts have looked into this. I hope they’re looking out for my interests, and not just sending me away to some stranger because it’s the easiest thing to do. What if this lady is a kook? Has anyone done any research on her…checked her background?”

I was angry, my words were trembling, and new tears of uncertainty flooded my eyes and cascaded down my cheeks.

“Emma,” she said nodding her head, gazing at me thoughtfully. “I’ve personally looked into this matter myself, and have undoubtedly confirmed that Alaine Gray is in-fact, your mother’s half-sister. She is your last living, blood relative and genuinely wants to take care of you. I spoke to her personally on the phone, and she has already prepared a room for you.”

“Why haven’t I ever heard of her? My mother never mentioned that she had a half-sister. Not once. Shouldn’t that have been a priority in my life? Why would she hide my only aunt from me? ”

“I don’t know sweetheart. Maybe your mother had a good reason. Sometimes things in life are better kept secret,” she expressed with a furrow in her brow.

Great. Family secrets. I never thought that my family would or could have had any secrets. We were a seemingly normal family. A happy family.

I suddenly wanted my mom. I wanted her to hug me and tell me everything was going to be alright. I wanted my dad to kiss me on the forehead, give me an encouraging word. I wished I’d died with my parents in the accident, because the thought of living without them was too much to bear.

I turned away from Ms. Reed as hot tears poured from my eyes. She placed her warm hand on my back, and I heard her sigh.

“Your Aunt Alaine is widowed. Her husband passed away a few years ago from some sort of illness, but he left her with a large inheritance. She has a beautiful home in Alaska.”

Alaska? God, wake me from this nightmare!

I kept my back to her and wept. This couldn’t be happening to me. The once beautifully, quilted fabric of my life was quickly unraveling into one giant, tangled mess.

“What if I don’t want to go?” I sobbed. Maybe there was a better way. There had to be another way to get out of this.

“Because your parents hadn’t appointed a guardian for you, the court has granted full custody to Mrs. Gray. It’s only until you’re eighteen, Emma,” she sympathized. “One year is really not that long. It will come and go before you know it.”

There was another long pause, and just when I thought she was done, she spoke again.

“I spoke to your Aunt this morning. She’ll be working closely with the state and your parent’s lawyers to take care of all the details. She is also sending an escort to take you to your new home tomorrow. I know it’s so soon, but she insisted and assured us that you’ll be given the greatest care. Don’t worry, Emma. Everything will be alright,” she expressed in an optimistic tone.

Yeah right. How could she know? She was getting paid for delivering news like this to who-knows-how-many countless kids. Miss Reed paused and then the warmth of her hand left my back. A few moments later, footsteps exited the room.

I couldn’t think. My brain hurt too much, throbbing to the brink of explosion. I was glad she left. I wanted to be alone. I wanted everything around me to completely disappear.

“Mom. Dad,” I whispered to myself. Muscles in my stomach tightened. I gripped my pillow and pulled it to my face to muffle the uncontrollable sobs. My world was quaking beneath me, opening up, sending me falling into a dark, endless abyss.

For the first time in my life I felt completely and utterly alone. Helpless. Abandoned. Lost. Why were my parents taken from me? Why did I survive? Unanswered questions pierced my already fragile heart. I hoped this was all just a nightmare. I prayed that when I opened my eyes again, everything would be back to the way it was.

I pulled the blanket up, covering my face and cried. I cried like I’d never cried before; mourning the death of my parents, and the scary unknown my life was steadily spiraling into.

*****

I must have fallen asleep for a while, and woke to whispers at the door. Whispers astonished and baffled that I had survived; that anyone could have survived such a horrific crash. But here I was… a medical marvel, with lacerations that seemed to be healing remarkably fast, and one broken arm. No head injuries, no internal bleeding, no major damage. A complete and total miracle.

I kept silent and still hoping they’d think I was still asleep, and leave me alone.

But my mind was awake and kept wondering how it all happened… The crash, that is. I tried to think back but my mind was blank, and I couldn’t seem to remember anything beyond my seventeenth birthday, so I went there. I went back to that happy place, and pulled the memory from the depths of my mind.

*****

We were all at home, a beautiful home near the beach. My parents were in real estate and made that first purchase together.

My mother adored throwing parties, and had decorated our pool area with hundreds of twinkle lights. Floating candles bobbed in the water, and everything was decorated in lime green, pink, and turquoise. There were balloons, streamers, tables filled with fancy-filled cupcakes, a chocolate fountain with an assortment of fruits, colorful candies in iridescent bags, sorbet-punch, and a spread of make-your-own sandwich stuff, neatly arranged on colorful platters.

Dad hung a huge banner which read: HAPPY SWEET SEVENTEEN, EMMA! with swirls of the matching décor colors around it.

My parents had invited my friends, along with some of their closest friends as well. I had two friends, to be precise…Jeremy Needles and Lia Ling.

Everyone sang Happy Birthday, I blew out the seventeen candles flaming atop my strawberry-cream cake, and then opened my gifts.

The adults gave me envelopes filled with cash or gift cards, which was the safest gift for a teenager these days. Lia gave me a bright-pink digital camera, with a matching pink case and scrapbooking kit, and Jeremy got me a Kindle.

“Kindle Fire,” he said with excited eyes as I opened the box. “It’s touch-screen.” He even managed to download all of his favorite books onto it. Wonderful! A lifetime worth of Jeremy Needle’s lit-picks. Just what I always wanted…Not!

They slept over that night and we watched the whole Lord of the Rings trilogy, ate popcorn, and drank Dr. Pepper until four the next morning.

*****

Two years prior to that day, we were living in an apartment in the middle of Los Angeles. It was close to my parent’s office, but mom started second-guessing me attending high school in the city. I’d gotten into some trouble with friends. You know… the friends who weren’t really friends; preppy, wannabe bitches who used and abused everyone around them, thinking they were better than everyone else.

Well, a few of them started a cat-fight in the bathroom with some Gothic chicks. The Goth girls kicked their butts (which I was secretly happy to witness), but everyone involved was dragged into the Principal’s office. I wasn’t a bad kid, just guilty by association, and therefore, suspended for a week.

That’s when the desperate search for a new high school began. My mom chose a religious, stuffy school; a total 180 from the previous one I attended. No one stood out there, because everyone looked the same. The dress code: navy blue, no-more-than-one-inch-above-the-knee skirts, white blouses, mid-calf socks and covered shoes for girls, and khaki pants with navy polo-shirts for the boys.

It was hard starting a new school without any friends. Everyone had settled into their own cliques, and I was suddenly the clique-less outsider. I remember that first day in the cafeteria, standing alone with my tray in hand, searching for a place to fit. As I did a quick scan of the tables filled with students talking, laughing, teasing, and staring; two smiling faces, sitting all alone at the back corner of the cafeteria, caught my glance. They waved for me to come and join them, and so I did… and every day since for the past three years.

Lia Ling is a shy, sweet, Asian girl: short and thin with long, stick-straight, black, shiny hair, with a cute, round face, and slightly pudgy cheeks under pink-rimmed glasses. Her mother makes her homemade lunches, which she carries in a tin Care Bear lunchbox.

Then there’s Jeremy Needles, our nerdy sidekick, aka: The Nerdmeister. Even a makeover wouldn’t work for this guy. Nerdiness was too deeply embedded into his genetic make-up. He’s tall, stick-thin, and his only noticeable muscle is his brain, which is covered with untamable, curly-brown hair. Every day he wears his bright orange, coke-bottle glasses on a large, pointy nose, and has barely-there lips. His true loves are his books and anything electronic.

Because of them, I remained an outsider with the other cliques. But, I didn’t care. I actually liked the fact that I was flying under the radar in the new school. I had no pressure to please, and a chance to breathe and have some fun.

*****

The accident must have been directly after my birthday, because there was nothing but darkness after that.

To make it worse, there was one, single question that kept beating on me, again and again… How was I going to survive without my parents? It was something a teenager should never have to worry about.

Regret started to seep into the cracks of my shattered heart. Did I tell my parents I loved them enough? Did they really know how much I appreciated them? I think they did. At least…I hoped they did.

And then, I heard my mother’s voice speaking softly in the recesses of my mind. “Don’t dwell on the negative,” she’d say. “Always look on the positive side of things. It’s a lot brighter there, and easier to find your way.” A tear escaped my eye as my thoughts lingered on her.

My future looked grim, but then… even in the darkness, there was the tiniest glimmer of hope. A hope that I did have a relative still living on this God forsaken earth that did have a part of my blood flowing through their veins, and she actually wanted me. That should count for something.

And the fact that she was related to my mom, the kindest, most beautiful person that ever walked the face of the earth, was definitely a plus. I missed my mom and the thought of her sent a piercing pain straight through the middle my heart. I wished the pain would go away, but I knew that every time I’d open my eyes, it would be there in some form, haunting me for the rest of my life.

I was tired; more like exhausted, and my eyes were still heavy and swollen. So, I closed them and faded back into a deep, needed sleep.

Author Bio:

My name is Cameo Renae Rosete, but as an author, I go by Cameo Renae. (It was actually my husbands idea.) I am married to my best friend, and we have two children together (teenagers now). They have been my encouragement and constant support through this whole process. Oh... and did I mention critics! :) In a good way though... My kids think I'm random and weird; their eyes tend to roll a lot when I'm around, and my husband... well, he just laughs and says I'm entertaining.
We recently moved from Maui, Hawaii (where I 've lived most of my life) to Alaska.... Yep, I know. I can hear you now...
What? Why? Are they crazy?
Well, majority of my family moved up to the AK, (see...they started it!) but we still have a lot of family that lives back on Maui, so we will be flying back and forth between the 49th and 50th states. :) Two amazingly beautiful places. I am a very lucky girl!
When I started In My Dreams, I never thought it would turn out the way it did. I really had no plan, and no structure. I just wrote, and it became. I've been perceived as a happy, random, funny (depends on your kind of humor) person. But the story is dark and kind of sad - totally unlike my personality. (There are bits of humor inserted! :))
I love watching paranormal shows, ghost stories, anything with vampires, zombies, alians, and angels...oh, and great love stories... I guess that's why In My Dreams came out the way it did.

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