Miracles Master the Art

Body,Mind,Spirit / Shamanism

Publisher: GodSpirits United, LLC

Miracles Master the Art gives readers 12 Steps to Heal Yourself Without Medicine.

With this information, you will never have to settle for anything you'd rather change. By controlling your thoughts and attitudes, and by adding certain words to your thinking, you can control your own health, wealth, and peace of mind.

Excerpt

12 STEPS TO HEAL YOURSELF

WITHOUT MEDICINE

It was 1980. When the call came in, I was presenting a jazz workshop for piano teachers in the farmlands of central Washington. My husband, Ray, was called to the phone. I continued presenting the workshop, wondering what was so important that someone was calling him while we were miles away from our home in Auburn, Washington.

When the workshop ended, we said our goodbyes and got into our car for the long drive home. Ray started the car, backed out a few feet, stopped, and looked at me with tears in his eyes. He said, “Oh, honey! That was Jeff on the phone.” Jeff was our oldest son, just twenty years old.  Ray continued, “He said a policeman came to our home early this morning to say that Mike was killed in a car accident.” Mike, our second child, had turned eighteen just eight days earlier. As we drove through the Washington countryside, now eager to get home, I tuned in to the news on the car radio, and we heard them announce the death of our son, Michael Alan Jones. Michael was born in Frankfurt, Germany, while Ray was serving in the U.S. Army. It was an easy birth for me, mainly because I was in my mid-twenties. While I was still in the hospital, an Army doctor who specialized in ophthalmology came by to say he believed our baby might have something wrong with his eyes, and he wanted to see us in his office the following week. We complied, and the doctor confirmed that Michael was born with congenital glaucoma. The doctor explained that fluid was flowing into his eyes faster than it could flow out, which could cause excessive pressure on his optic nerve and lead to blindness. He also said that when the baby was old enough he would need to have surgery to save his sight. 

When Michael reached the appointed age of eighteen months, we were living in military quarters at the Presidio of San Francisco, where another highly skilled ophthalmologist performed surgery twice on his eyes over a period of months. For the next eight years Michael was given daily eye drops and was taken to the doctor at regular intervals to have his eye pressure checked and prescriptions written for medicated eye drops.

 Being the open-minded person that I am, I always felt there was a way for Michael to be healed, if only I could find it, in spite of the doctors who said he would always have glaucoma because they did not know how to heal it. When Ray’s military service ended, we moved from the Bay Area to Santa Barbara, California, and “just happened” to move right across the street from a lady named Evelyn. I saw her out on her lawn one day, so I went over to meet my new neighbor. As we talked, I told her about Michael’s glaucoma, and she told me she taught a class in healing, and that it was possible that Michael could be healed if we studied the course. I was ready to study anything if there was even a remote chance of healing, so we agreed.

 The course she taught was written by a man named William Walter, who, through intensive reading and study, had healed himself of tuberculosis, and then developed this course to train other people in how to heal themselves of medically incurable illnesses. The course taught us that: OUR THINKING CAUSES EVERYTHING THAT WE EXPERIENCE. As time went on, using this approach, we began to have success in healing many things, like the common cold and the annual flu. After we had studied this course for two years, Ray and I went to Los Angeles to take the teachers’ training. We both became certified teachers of Eschatology, the Science of Last Things. Then Ray accepted a position as a purchasing agent in San Jose, California, so once again we moved.  

When Michael was nine years old, he still had glaucoma, was still being given daily prescription eye drops, and was still seeing an accredited ophthalmologist, now in the Bay Area, but I felt the time had come for us to take our stand for healing. I had just taken him in for his three-month pressure check, and with medication his eye pressure was under control. The next day I consciously chose to stop putting the medicated prescription drops in his eyes because I felt I had my thoughts in the right place to accomplish his healing.

 Three months later I took Michael to the ophthalmologist for his checkup. The nurse took us into an examination room and asked me what time he had been given his drops that morning. I said, “I have not given him any drops for three months.” She gave me a look of disbelief and noted that on his chart. When the doctor came into the room, he was angry. He said, “Why have you stopped the drops?” I simply said, “We did not do it ignorantly.” The doctor was obviously shaken.  He tried to calm down and proceeded to check Michael’s eye pressure. Then he became quiet, and after a pause he said, “His pressure checks normal.” I was elated, but I said nothing. 

 The doctor left the room briefly. When he returned, he said his colleague, also an ophthalmologist, was asking my permission to follow Michael’s progress along with him from now on. I simply said “No.” I knew that looking for glaucoma in my child’s eyes could reproduce it. That was the last time Michael went to the ophthalmologist. His glaucoma had vanished.

 What we learned in Eschatology is that our son’s glaucoma was caused by my feeling of being pressured (controlled, domineered) by my mother-in-law, Coleen. She could not let go of her son Ray, my husband, even though we had been married for many years and had three  children of our own. She wanted her own way and expected our obedience. I disliked her very much because of her constant intrusion and demands. Once I learned in Eschatology that she was the source of the pressure I was feeling that was causing Michael’s glaucoma, I knew I had to stand against this woman and learn how to say NO to her, rather than allowing her to push me around any longer. I had to change the way I dealt with her. Always before it had been impossible for me to do this, because she was “Mother” after all, and I was trying to be respectful, but it was way out of control. If we did not do what she wanted, she would remind us that we were supposed to honor our parents. 

 Soon my opportunity came to stand up to her. She called one afternoon and asked us to come for dinner that evening. I said, “No, thank you. We will not be able to come.” That was a first for me, and it felt so good! She continued to ask and argue, and I continued to say “NO.” So she hung up. About five minutes later she called back and asked me again the same question: “Will you come for dinner?” Again I said, “No, thank you.” She continued to urge me, and said Father (her husband) might die soon, and this would be the last time we could be together. (She had used that excuse before.) I stuck to my guns and did not budge. She hung up. Five minutes later she called back for the third time in fifteen minutes. It was as if she had totally forgotten that I had said no already, so we went through it all over again. When we hung up from that third call, I felt triumphant and no longer felt pushed around. I had pushed back, and by changing my attitude in how I handled her demands, I had changed my on-going feelings of being pushed around by her. My feelings had reflected on my child’s eyes as glaucoma, even while he was in my womb. I healed him of glaucoma by taking an action that changed the way I felt. I had allowed that woman to push me around for years, and now it was over. I had reversed my feelings of being pressured. Now I felt in control.

About the Author

Nancy Lynne Harris, M.A., is a graduate of The Four Winds Society, founded by Dr. Alberto Villoldo, where she was trained in shamanism and energy healing. She graduated as a Spiritual Teacher from the Eschatology Foundation in Los Angeles and healed her son Michael of glaucoma as a result. She completed advanced training in Theta Healing and was recognized by Worldwide Who’s Who for excellence in energy medicine.

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Justice Gone by N. Lombardi Jr

About the Book:

When a homeless war veteran is beaten to death by the police, stormy protests ensue, engulfing a small New Jersey town. Soon after, three cops are gunned down. A multi-state manhunt is underway for a cop killer on the loose. And Dr. Tessa Thorpe, a veteran's counselor, is caught up in the chase. Donald Darfield, an African-American Iraqi war vet, war-time buddy of the beaten man, and one of Tessa's patients, is holed up in a mountain cabin. Tessa, acting on instinct, sets off to find him, but the swarm of law enforcement officers get there first, leading to Darfield's dramatic capture. Now, the only people separating him from the lethal needle of state justice are Tessa and ageing blind lawyer, Nathaniel Bodine. Can they untangle the web tightening around Darfield in time, when the press and the justice system are baying for revenge? Justice Gone is the first in a series of psychological thrillers involving Dr Tessa Thorpe, wrapped in the divisive issues of modern American society including police brutality and disenfranchised returning war veterans.

Book Links:
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Read an Excerpt:

Chapter 4

The city council had no choice but to call an emergency meeting with the mayor. All but one of the council members, despite the late notice, were able to make it. The police chief was summoned, and the head of the Bruntfield Police Union also insisted on being present. They didn’t meet in the public hall, but rather in the private chambers in the back where they sat around an oval walnut table, nearly all of them dressed in white buttoned- down short-sleeve shirts, except for the chief who was dressed in uniform, and one councilman dressed in a suit and tie.

“So now we’re national news,” the mayor announced despondently. He was a short man with a very round body, his features reminding one of a genial uncle in a TV sitcom. He had a buzz cut hairstyle and distended cheeks. Despite his almost comical looks, he was well liked by the people, and now deep in his second term. “Care to tell us how that happened, John?”

John Garson, Chief of Police, Bruntfield Township, squirmed uneasily in his chair. His embarrassment looked incongruous when compared to his reputation and his mien, a well-built man, his chiseled features bearing the epitome of moral integrity, his hair cut in an austere style that radiated a combination of duty and pride; a dedicated officer of the law. “Officers Puente and Fox responded to a call of vandalism and approached a man who fitted the description that was consistent with the 911 call. From what I know at this point, and that may change, is that the suspect resisted arrest.”

“Was he armed?”

“As far as I know he was not, mayor.”

“Were there other officers involved?”

“Yes, backup was requested and two units responded.”

“Is it safe to say”—and now the mayor’s voice took on a mordant tone—"that allegations are going to be made that these men, six officers in total, used excessive force on an unarmed man, considering he’s dead as a result of this confrontation?”

“More than likely, Your Honor.”

“An unarmed homeless man, who just happens to be a goddamned war hero!” exclaimed the mayor, slapping his hand on the table. “Purple Heart, Bronze Star!”

The silence that followed was not surprising.

“A man dies while being apprehended, and we aren’t even sure if he committed this petty act of vandalism. This looks bad. Like hooliganism. A goddamned war hero for Chrissakes! Thank God it wasn’t a black man!”

A chuckling snort was heard from the far side of the table. “You got something to say, Ray?”

Ray Miffler was the leading property developer in Bruntfield, and his inputs into town planning were significant. But he typically contributed next to nothing on any other issue. And he was a smartass too. His angular face opened into a wily smile. “It could have been worse…could have been a woman. Imagine, six burly cops?”

The mayor instantly regretted giving this man any attention and didn’t wait for the idiot to finish before he shouted, “He had a prosthetic foot for God’s sake! No more flippant comments, Ray, or we’ll throw you out of here!”

The mayor then redirected his attention back to Garson. “Do you know these men, John?”

“Of course I’m familiar with them, it’s a small force.”

“Chief Garson,” injected a middle-aged balding man with a bushy red mustache, wearing wire-rimmed spectacles; Brad Wilkinson, also the Superintendent of Bruntfield School District, “have any of these men been implicated in any similar situations, where, I mean, excessive force was suspected?”

“Of course, we checked that first thing, and there had been some complaints against three of the officers. It was quite a while ago, before I came.”

“And what is the status of these men, are they still on the job?”

“As of this moment, yes, but I am considering full suspension pending the outcome of this meeting.”
The police union boss fidgeted in his chair. Bushy salt-and- pepper hair, puffed up in a style dating back to the fifties, jowls that hung like slabs of beef, his tremendous paunch half-hidden beneath the table, he made clear his position. “That wouldn’t be acceptable to us. Paid administrative leave is more what we have in mind. It’s not the first time this has been done pending an investigation…almost standard…remember, innocent until proven guilty.”

“So how else are we going to respond to this!” the mayor demanded.

Abe Norson, small-headed but handsome, with a fashionably trimmed van-dyke, the owner of Bruntfield’s Ford dealership, spoke up. “I think at the very least we should hold an inquiry.”
Wilkinson couldn’t suppress himself. “Inquiry?” he blurted. “A man is dead, I would think a grand jury would be more appropriate.”

The mayor looked directly across from him. “Burns?”

Alexander Burns was the sixty-four-year-old city attorney.

The only councilman wearing a full suit despite the heat wave. His black, thick-framed glasses sat perched upon a hairless rectangular-shaped granite face, his wide mouth horizontal, his little eyes revealing nothing. “I’m afraid I concur with Councilman Wilkinson. We need to demonstrate that we’re on top of this and that we take the matter seriously…a grand jury would serve that purpose.”
The beefy police union rep immediately responded. “We would be vigorously opposed to that.”
“I advise grand jury proceedings,” Burns countered. “But no indictment.”

“Excuse me,” Wilkinson blurted. “How can you say ‘no indictment’? We have to hear the evidence first, or am I off- course here?”

“It’s the DA’s ballgame. Isn’t that right, Louis?”

Louis Pimply, a deputy DA, a wiry man in his early thirties, responded. “Most of the time, yes.”
“Any witnesses, John?” the city attorney asked.

Garson put his head down, signaling an unpleasant reply. “Four. And then there’s a videotape…from the bus depot.”

“Is it in police possession?”

Garson nodded his head affirmatively.

Burns looked at the deputy DA. “Louis?”

“The DA’s office does have the final say as to what evidence can be admitted.”

Miffler spoke up. “What about this homeless guy? Any history of violence? Prior arrests? Minor infractions?”

Garson answered. “He was cited for loitering, sometime last year.”

“Is he of right mind?” Miffler continued, “I mean, you know, these vets sometimes come home a bit looney…was he involved in any treatment for that matter?”

“Ah now, Ray has an excellent point there,” Burns said. ”Let’s look at the supposed victim’s background and see if we can find anything to show he wasn’t just a complacent citizen, but someone whose actions were, say, unbalanced, and therefore threatened the well-being of the responding officers.”

“There were two letters,” Garson disclosed, “that we believe he intended to mail. Stamps were on them, but I guess he forgot to mail them. They were both addressed to the New Hope Trauma Recovery Clinic in Manhattan.”

“That’s a start,” Burns said.

“So, we are aiming at no indictment, precluding a trial?” Wilkinson asked in disbelief, causing a fit of murmuring among the council members.

Burns held both his hands out to grab everyone’s attention. “A trial can last months, even a year or more, do you really want that constant publicity?”

Norson, the car dealer, raised an important point. “Don’t you think that when it’s announced that there’ll be no trial, the public outcry, which no doubt there will be, will cause harm to our standing in the eyes of the people?”

“Of course, there will be a hell of a hullabaloo,” Burns admitted. “But you’ll see, it won’t last long. The public will just get tired of the whole thing and the dust will settle, in less than a year I imagine. But a trial…we’ll be in the headlines continually."

"Let’s put it to a vote,” the mayor suggested. “Inquiry, or grand jury with no indictment.”

After fifteen minutes of discussion, votes were cast. Grand jury, no indictment, was the final decision. It seemed a sensible decision. But then again, none of them could be expected to have predicted the future.

About the Author:

N. Lombardi Jr, the N for Nicholas, has spent over half his life in Africa, Asia, and the Middle East, working as a groundwater geologist. Nick can speak five languages: Swahili, Thai, Lao, Chinese, and Khmer (Cambodian).

In 1997, while visiting Lao People's Democratic Republic, he witnessed the remnants of a secret war that had been waged for nine years, among which were children wounded from leftover cluster bombs. Driven by what he saw, he worked on The Plain of Jars for the next eight years.

Nick maintains a website with content that spans most aspects of the novel: The Secret War, Laotian culture, Buddhism etc.

His second novel, Journey Towards a Falling Sun, is set in the wild frontier of northern Kenya.

His latest novel, Justice Gone was inspired by the fatal beating of a homeless man by police.
Nick now lives in Phnom Penh, Cambodia

Follow the Author:
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FAE'S CAPTIVE by Lily Archer

I am so excited that FAE'S CAPTIVE by Lily Archer is available now and that I get to share the news!

If you haven’t yet heard about this wonderful book by Author Lily Archer, be sure to check out all the details below.

This blitz also includes a giveaway for a $10 Amazon GC courtesy of Lily and Rockstar Book Tours. So if you’d like a chance to win, enter in the Rafflecopter at the bottom of this post.

Title: FAE'S CAPTIVE

Author: Lily Archer

Pub. Date: February 19, 2019

Publisher: Lily Archer

Formats: Paperback, eBook

Pages: 215

Find it: Goodreads, Amazon

My college roommate was the worst. Cecile would steal my food, bring guys over at all hours, and party instead of studying. But those quirks paled in comparison to what she did next. She drugged me, and I woke up imprisoned in an alternate universe full of terrifying creatures. Now, the biggest and scariest creature of all—a fae king—believes I’m his mate. He’s freed me from the dungeon, but keeps me close. So close, in fact, that I’m beginning to like his wintery gaze and ice-chiseled body. But secrets and villains lurk throughout this new world, and I don’t know if I’ll survive long enough to figure out how to get back home.

Book 2 is also available! Grab it now!

Title: ROAD TO WINTER (FAE'S CAPTIVE #2)

Author: Lily Archer

Pub. Date: February 19, 2019

Publisher: Lily Archer

Formats: Paperback, eBook

Pages: 215

Find it: Goodreads, Amazon

The fae king is growing on me. Every touch, look, and night spent in his arms is slowly melting my resistance. When his feral side takes over, something inside me wants to let go and give him everything. With each passing day, the pull is getting harder to deny. But the road to the winter realm is full of danger, and I need to concentrate on finding my way home, not on the promises of pleasure Leander whispers in my ear at night. Even so, how long can I resist the intoxicating kiss of winter?

Author's Note: This is book 2 of the Fae's Captive Series. Be sure to read book 1 first or risk being lost in the woods with a growly fae king.

Exclusive Excerpt!

A smile quirks up one side of his lips, and the goosebumps spread down my back. He’s handsome in a brutish, alien sort of way. But definitely more scary than anything else. Those dark eyes hide traps and barbs, I’m certain of it.

He edges closer and rests the tray next to me.

My stomach growls again, and I can’t take my eyes off the food. But should I eat it?

With a nudge, he pushes the tray even closer. I can smell the sweetness of the fruit and the doughy bread. Food is food, right? But what if it’s poisoned?

He says something, one word. Maybe it’s ‘eat’, since he gestures toward the tray with one of his bear paws.

My stomach makes the decision for me as it complains loudly and a hunger pang shoots through me. I reach for the bread and take a small piece, then put it in my mouth, testing it. Sweeter than the breads I’m used to, it melts on my tongue.

He nods, his dark eyes glinting, and he says the word again. It sounds like “brantath” to me. I form the word as best I can and repeat it back to him. His face lightens, and he tears another piece of bread from the round loaf and gives it to me.

I take it, swallowing it just as fast as the first. “So brantath means eat.” My stomach seems to rumble even more. “Or maybe it means bread?”

When he sits on the bed, I yank the fur up and pull my knees to my chest. The entire mattress shifts under his weight as he leans over and butters a bigger piece of bread and offers it to me.

“Brantath.” He leans closer. The scent from the fur and the shirt I’m wearing is the same one that wafts from him. It’s the promise of a cold winter’s night spent next to a roaring fire.

I take the bread, my fingers gently brushing against his. A low growl in his throat has me pulling back. It stops, but he gives me a predatory look, one that frightens me and sends heat blasting through me at the same time. Something’s wrong with me, but I’m too happy about the food to care.

I devour the bread, the butter creamy and delicious. He rises, the bed groaning with relief as he grabs a pitcher and pours water into a crystal cup, then hands it to me. I sniff it. No smell. But it’s not like I’m an expert poison sniffer or anything. I drink, mainly because I’m parched and don’t know when I’ll get my next chance at food or water.

He watches me swallow it down, then holds his hand out for the empty glass. When I reach out to give it to him, he stills, his eyes narrowing. Ferocious. That’s the only word for the look on his face. I clutch the fur and scoot away from him.

With fluid fury he reaches to the table behind him and draws an enormous silver sword.

A choked sound catches in my throat as he raises it. I’m going to die.

“Please, don’t.” It’s the only words I can get out as he lunges toward me.

About Lily:

Lily Archer believes in fairies, mermaids, and fierce fae warriors. Armed with nothing more than her imagination and a well-worn MacBook, she intends to slay the darkest beasts of the fantasy worlds and create true love where none seemed possible.

Visit me at www.lilyarcherauthor.com

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Giveaway Details: 

1 winner will receive an 10 Amazon Gift Card, International.

Ends on February 28th at Midnight EST!

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The Partners

      

Mystery, Thriller

Publisher: Black Rose Writing

Release Date: February 19, 2019

Two detectives’ steamy past complicates their hunt for a psychotic killer and puts them in an assassin’s deadly sights.

Would you trust a former lover who'd betrayed you? Detectives Cole Trane and Mollie Simmons have no other choice. They're after a ruthless killer tied to the Russian mafia who leaves behind a bloody trail of victims as he races to escape to Canada. Their only hope is to have each other's back like they once had each other's heart -- especially when they discover that they, in turn, are being pursued by a deadly assassin who wants to get them in his sights.

About the Author


Jack Polo is an award-winning screenwriter whose fiction reads like a verbal camera -- taking you into the hearts and minds of the people in his book. From star-crossed lovers Cole and Mollie, to Nikolai Voronov, the Machiavellian Russian oligarch who wants no survivors, to the dark evil of Igor Petrak, the psychotic assassin. The result is a page-turner of the first order. This is a can't-put-down thriller.

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QUEEN TO ASHES by Mallory McCartney

I am so excited that QUEEN TO ASHES by Mallory McCartney is available now and that I get to share the news!

If you haven’t yet heard about this wonderful book by Author Mallory McCartney, be sure to check out all the details below.

This blitz also includes a giveaway for a $10 Amazon GC courtesy of Mallory and Rockstar Book Tours. So if you’d like a chance to win, enter in the Rafflecopter at the bottom of this post.

Title: QUEEN TO ASHES (Black Dawn #2)

Author: Mallory McCartney

Pub. Date: January 8, 2019

Publisher: Clean Reads Publishing

Formats: eBook

Pages: ?

Find it: Goodreads, Amazon, Amazon Canada

“You lived your entire life feeling like half of you was missing. Fight for the missing part. Fight for this.” 

Emory Fae has abandoned everything she thought she knew about her previous life on Earth. Stepping up to her role as Queen of Kiero she makes a startling sacrifice- feigning her allegiances to Adair Stratton, the man who murdered her parents and casted Kiero into ruin. Emory’s memories slowly piece together, and she soon realizes the Mad King may not be all he seems— and the man who was once best friend, may be fighting beneath the surface. 

With the King’s attention on her, can she buy Black Dawn Rebellion enough time to recuperate their forces? And when the times comes, will she be able to kill Adair, ending his tyranny and rising herself as the rightful Queen? Fighting to hide her secret, Emory navigates the brutal trials of the Mad King, trying not to lose herself in the process. 

Sequel to Black Dawn, now a bestselling series, the sparks are ignited, as Emory learns the cost of freedom, and her title. Will the rebels unite in time? A sinister force has spread across the land, stripping everyone bare- their betrayals, their secrets, their intentions. But above all, what will their decisions cost? By refusing to give in to the darkness, will Emory rise as Queen?

Renegade and Black Dawn will be available in the following #Vancouver area locations : Chapters Burnaby, Indigo Surrey, Chapters Coquitlam, Indigo West Vancouver, Indigo Granville (2505 Granville St) and Indigo Robson (1033 Robson St) in December!

Title: RENEGADE (Black Dawn 0.5)

Author: Mallory McCartney

Pub. Date: July 3, 2018

Publisher: Clean Reads Publishing

Formats: Paperback, eBook

Pages: 274

Find it: Amazon, B&N, TBD, Goodreads

“The time for Kiero’s reign in prosperity is over.”

Six years before the Black Dawn Rebellion, Adair Stratton and Emory Fae are following in their parent’s footsteps and living at The Academy, a home for those who are gifted. The pressure to uphold the future of their parent’s dream falls on them. An outcast and feared by most, Adair longs to break away from the expectations dictating his future. Even if Emory tries to make him see differently. An unexpected group of friends keep him there, but as whispers of unexplained disappearances start reaching from the capital, Adair starts to doubt The Academy is all it seems.

An unexpected visit ignites new tensions as the roguish king from across the Black Sea, Tadeas Maher of the Shattered Isles, and his heir, Marquis Maher sail to Kiero. Notorious for their pirating and wrath- for the first time in years, they demand the Fae’s listen to their proposition for a new treaty, holding the news of Nei’s father’s abrupt death over them. Caught in the middle of politics- Adair and Emory, with the help of their best friends Brokk and Memphis search for the one thing that matters most- finding out the truth.

In this gripping prequel to Black Dawn, their world is tipped upside down as unlikely alliances are made. War ravages through Kiero and is torn apart by acclaimed Kings. Through the throes of betrayal, lies, hidden magic and love, Adair is faced with a life changing decision- to fight or to bow to the darkness within him.

Title: BLACK DAWN (Black Dawn #1)

Author: Mallory McCartney

Release Date: February 14, 2017

Publisher: Clean Reads Publishing

Pages: 352

Formats: Paperback, eBook

Find it: Amazon, B&N, TBD, Goodreads

Emory Fae enjoys leading a quiet, normal life. That is until two mysterious, and handsome soldiers show up at her apartment, and the life she knew is instantly whisked away. Memphis Carter and Brokk Foster come from the magical and war ridden world of Kiero, and bringing Emory back she will discover she is the long lost heir to the Royal Line and is thrown into the Black Dawn Rebellion with a dynamic role to ignite the rebels and reclaim her throne.

With both men being darkly woven in her past Emory uncovers hidden secrets, a power held long dormant, and will soon realize there are worse things than supernatural humans, love, loss, betrayal, and a Mad King.

Some things are better left in the shadows.

Exclusive Excerpt!

Chapter One

Adair

The vastness of the sky consumed him. It always had, ever since  he  was  young,  but  tonight  seemed  different.  The  churning dark clouds cast a purplish hue, bleeding with the softness created from the moon. The stars shone between the pockets, obscuring the scene and making it beautiful. Far below him, the Ruined City laid in its grave, quiet and still, the broken buildings reminding him of splintered  bones.  The  wildness  of  the  forest  beyond  that  seemed entrancing,  calling  him  into  its  depths,  whispering  its  secrets  to only him.

Adair Stratton tugged his button-down jacket tighter around him, trying to block the wind from his lookout post. It had taken years  to build his kingdom to what it was now, but he was relieved for  the  hidden  lookout  posts  that  led  outside,  on  the  edge  of  the mountain, and, to him, the edge of the world. Because it was here, and  only  here,  that  the  voices  started  to  ebb,  the  darkness  in  his veins  smothering  ever  so  slightly.  In  this  brief  and  flickering moment of clarity, his mind wandered to the girl who was locked in  the  cells  of  his  kingdom,  waiting  for  him.  Emory  Fae,  the Princess of Kiero.

He  popped  his  collar  up,  shaking  his  head  and  sighing. Under the blanket of night, he could trace back to the man he used to be, the echo of his humanity. Thinking of her, he could see the splaying  of  memories  come  back  to  life  all  around  him,  of  his friends,  of  the  Academy.  And  it  was  in  these  sparse  moments  of lucidity,  he  allowed  himself  to  remember.  Relishing  it,  pushing back  that  yearning  for  destruction,  pushing  back  on  the  voices, trying to lock  them  away. And like every other night, he lost. The wind howled, making the edges of his coat and pants tug upward, his hair standing on end from the sudden chill.

His  boots  kicked  against  the  slick  mountainside,  his  heart racing  as  the  smooth  voices  filled  his  consciousness.  “Adair,  this kingdom is yours. Make her bow, make her bleed and pay for what she has done.”  He closed his eyes for a beat, digging his fingernails into his flesh.  “Why  do  you  wait?  You  know  what  you  want.  What  you  have always  wanted.”   Images  were  thrown  at  him;  so  quick  and enthralling, it swept his breath away. The inky crown, embedded with  roses  and  thorns,  laid  delicately  on  top  of  her  ebony  hair. Memphis  Carter,  the  once  commander  of  the  Black  Dawn Rebellion,  bowed,  pleading  for  his  life  as  Adair  smirked.  His darkness  whisked  away  any  trace  of  rebellion.  Emory  was  by  his side as they watched the world continue to burn, until it was only them. Always, for  them.

Adair  snarled,  then  said,  “Leave  me  alone.  Please.”   Their snickers bounced around him, their whispers tugging at his heart. “Do  not  falter  now,  our  Dark  King.  You  have  come  so  far,  achieved  so much. The binds your father tried to keep you in, you broke. The Academy kept you in, you turned it to ash. We are a team. We know the desires of your  soul,  how  you  revel  in  watching  the  world  shudder  in  your  reign. You have always been more. A reckoning force that no one can stop. Can never stop.” 

He became still, his muscles taut. Opening his eyes, his gaze fell  a  thousand  miles  away,  to  where  the  Academy  had  stood. Where a boy that once wanted to explore the world and not shackle it had lived. He knew both were dead now. Ice coursed through his body, spreading through his core faster than he could register. His pulse  slowed,  the  roaring  emotions  he  felt  slowing  as  well. Darkness  encased  him,  pulling  him  down,  down,   down.  Locking him  away,  roaring,  snarling,  and  clawing  at  him.  A  slow  exhale escaped  from  between  his  dry  lips,  and  as  he  stood,  every movement was precise, a predatory grace. Flicking his gaze below him  once  more,  and  instead  of  the  dark  beauty  that  he  was  met with earlier, the world around him was bleeding. Dark, black blood gushed  from  the  mountainside,  thickly  caking  the  field  and  the Ruined  City.  Echoes  of  screams  filled  the  air,  and  Adair  was transported, reminded of his bloodshed, of his control and power. “Do not disappoint us, our King.”

The  corners  of  his  lips  tugged  upward  as  he  whispered  to the wind, “I won’t.”

Inside  he  screamed,  ripping  at  his  mind,  battering  against the  iron  wall,  only  to  be  drowned  entirely  by  it.  He  turned smoothly, walking back into his world, each step anchoring him to his intentions.  Make them bow and make them pay. Make  her  pay.  He didn’t  look  as  he  stepped  off  the  side  of  the  cliff,  freefalling.  He plummeted, the wind howling, the cool night air stinging his skin. He  laughed,  relishing  in  the  exhilaration  of  adrenaline,  before  he was wrenched up, his body breaking down into particles of smoke and the darkness. Cutting through the sky, he didn’t think, he just reacted to the power inside of him, and everything else bled away. Arching, he cut through the clouds, moisture collecting around him like  glinting  crystals,  before  they  exploded,  and  he  cut  down, racing towards the mountain range. The moon bathed his path in luminescent  light,  and  it  was  mere  seconds  before  he  slammed through the wall, through stone and wood. The smoothness of the throne  room’s  granite  made  his  footfalls  silent  as  the  guards  on their rotation jumped at his arrival.

He scoffed. “You all seem uneasy.”

They  bowed  their  heads,  their  low  murmurs  cutting  over one another.

“My King, we weren’t expecting you.”

“The losses, my King.”

“What is our course of action?”

“Enough!” he snapped, his cold voice bouncing off the walls and silencing them instantly. He looked at the black marble and his throne, smooth, each curve carved precisely, the bones of monsters long forgotten inlaid in it. Taking a steadying breath, he looked at each guard, quietly stating, “You will all do your duties and leave the Rebellion to me. As for the girl, bring her tomorrow, along with the  other  prisoner.  Each  decision  I  make  has  a  purpose,  and  you aren’t  doubting  your  allegiance  to  me  now,  are  you?” Shifting uneasily, the guards paled in the soft light, swallowing nervously. Their silent answer enough. Pacing, he snapped, “Now, leave me. Return to your stations.”

They  bowed,  each  footfall  a  distant  tick  against  his  mind, until  the  stillness  of  the  night  filled  him,  and  he  was  alone  once more. Striding, he threw himself on his throne, legs hanging over the  edges,  hands  propping  his  head  up.  Far  above  him,  the  stars glinted  down,  the  sky  opening  him  up  to  the  thousands  of uncharted miles in between space and time. And he thought of the girl who had defied it all. 

Chewing his lip, he started to count down the seconds, the minutes,  and  the  hours  until  he  was  alone  with  her.  And  they would both see what side of him would decide her fate. 

About Mallory:

Mallory McCartney is the author of the bestselling Black Dawn series. She currently lives in Sarnia, Ontario with her husband and their three dachshunds Link, Lola and Leonard. When she isn’t working on her next novel or reading, she can be found day dreaming about fantasy worlds and hiking. Other favorite pastimes involve reorganizing perpetually overflowing bookshelves and seeking out new coffee and dessert shops.

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