Saturday, February 29, 2020

Path of the Spirit Runner



Rootstock Saga, Book 2
Epic Fantasy
Date Published: February 29, 2020
Publisher: Each Voice Publishing

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Gifted or cursed? Isobel is a healer, and the Hawks who accepted her, broken and different as she was, need her help. But she must hide the truth behind her healing power. She is an empath.

John Deighton, The Prophet, is back in Innis and stoking the embers of bigotry and superstition, scouring the realm and imprisoning mindgifted Aurels. When he corners Isobel, will she fight back or succumb to her old fears and lingering scars of the Beast of Monaughty? Will she answer the call of a healer if it costs her everything she loves?

Far across the sea, Tobias Buchanan is racing against time to build New Rhynn as a haven for his clan. As the noose of oppression squeezes tighter in Innis, the Hawks may soon be forced to choose between their homeland and their way of life. Can he earn a place for his Hawks amongst the Este of Tallu? Can he prove Rhynns are worthy of their trust?

Meanwhile, the Este are discovering their own place in the Awakening and the Joining. Spirit runners grow more powerful by the year, and the Mists hover closer over Tallu. But will it be enough when the water rises? Will they be ready before the cycle ends?

Path of the Spirit Runner is the enthralling continuation of the Rootstock Saga. Evolution and oppression. Magical mindgifts and dragon science. The characters you loved in Legend of the Storm Hawks come of age and weave their own threads in the Patterns.

Other Books in the Rootstock Saga Series:


Legend of the Storm Hawks
Rootstock Saga, Book 1
Publisher: Each Voice Publishing
Published: January 2020

Someday soon, your world will end. Ending is not as final as it sounds. Our world has ended before. When it does, be patient. Those of your time will linger and watch new cycles unfold. Some will walk this spinning blue rock again. A few will shape its destiny.

Get lost in the story. The richly detailed fantasy adventure you've been looking for is here. Stunning world-building. Sweeping cast of unforgettable characters. A riveting saga of the magic evolving in us all. Perfect for fans of George R. R. Martin, Brent Weeks, and Brandon Sanderson.

Legend of the Storm Hawks introduces the Rootstock Saga, four novels all due to release in 2020. Not a light read, this is serious fantasy for serious fantasy fans. Set on a future Earth, our own history echoes from the shadows. Adversity awakens gifts in this tale of evolution and survival. Science meets fantasy in a burgeoning of psychic and psionic power, and the mindgifted struggle with bigotry, abuse, theocracy, gender roles, climate change, and the temptations of power and privilege. Their intricately interwoven POV voices and plots converge in a long, rewarding end game.

A master player convinces the pawn the move is its own. Nigel has been at the game longer than most, but lately the pawns keep turning into rogue knights. It’s damned inconvenient of them, considering the world is about to end again.

The Watchers will soon declare this cycle over, as they have so many cycles before, shrugging off yet another rise and fall of humankind, and giving the dragons another turn at dominion.

Brynmohr is King of the Firstborn, and Twelvestones is the last bastion of a once-mighty nene dynasty. As the first people to walk the earth, the Firstborn consider it their birthright to rule over mankind. Half-breeds between their kinds are always sterile, but the daughters born of Brynmohr’s irrational affection for a woman are defying the Patterns.

Sethlyan and Isobel are unaware they’re expendable pawns in an increasingly complex game. Seth is the second son of the Second of Aleron. He’s tired of hearing rumors he and his friends are the prophesied Storm Hawks, destined to free Rhynn from centuries of oppression. He knows better. So does the Other, the voice only he can hear.

Isobel survived the Beast of Monaughty. Her father is dead, but his brutality haunts her. When her brother, the Rhi’Iverach, forges an alliance with the Hawks of Aleron, Isobel finds herself promised to a stranger named Sethlyan.

Her trust is hard to earn. His is hard to give.

A deadly attack leaves them with a telepathic bond neither wants, and awakens mindgifts they struggle to accept. When rebellion brings Nigel and his charges to the precipice of war, they must choose between hiding their secrets or wielding their power, fighting their oppressors or sacrificing freedom for peace.

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About the Author


L.H. Leonard writes epic fantasy because she prefers imaginary worlds to dysfunctional real ones. She's been a technologist (computer geek and manager thereof) in the financial and media industries for most of her career, and sidelines as micro-publisher Each Voice Publishing. When getting paid doesn't matter, she's an animal rescuer, artist, almost-master gardener, and a surprisingly good cook.

She and her husband live happily ever after in Georgia, where their forever home is a short trek from the Chattahoochee River through woods filled with deer, coyotes, owls, the occasional bear, and of course, hawks.

Their progeny are creative individualists, the eldest of whom has given them a small tribe of grandchildren. They're the real Children of Promise.


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Tuesday, February 25, 2020

Defeat of the Wicked Iniquitous


An Inspired Epic Thesis and Political-Economic Thriller
Published: December 2019

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Defeat of the Wicked Iniquitous is a fictionalized illustration of the new Middle-Class Capitalism Economic System and the Independent People’s Global Enterprise. It is written and designed for reality, to non-violently revolutionize working and poor people’s own independent economic power, to build a prosperous, just, safe, clean, beautiful and peaceful new world.In the great Revolutionary War of Economic Independence, the Neo-Caps (the New Capitalists) are ferocious non-violent capitalist warriors. They are the People, the students and working-class owners, worldwide, of the Independent People's Global Enterprise. Together they crush the crony capitalist oligarchs, and the evil Trill Empire, forever. And the People rule the world !!!!






Excerpt

The Independent People’s Global Enterprise


July 4 of the year 2030. The new capitalists or Neo-Caps, as they are called, celebrate all around the world in the most spectacular celebrations ever seen. Together they won the Great Revolutionary World War of Economic Independence. The Neo-Caps crushed crony capitalist plutocrats across the globe and now democratically control the global economy and their respective governments.

The Neo-Caps are the owners of the Independent People's Global Enterprise, larger than all the remaining giant corporations in the world combined. Neo-Caps independently control their own retail markets. The People's Enterprise defeated most of the largest retail corporations throughout the world in a very brutal economic war of capitalism, a battle that started on July 4, 2020, with the worldwide Declaration of Economic Independence.  

The People became the new capitalists, officially incorporating their own powerful Independent People’s Global Enterprise. Through a decade of capitalist "warfare" they beat the retail crony capitalists at their own game. Together, all Neo-Caps are owners of the largest and most powerful corporations in the world. They have more influence over their governments than all former crony plutocrats combined.

As the new rich, the Neo-Caps have the power and systemic resolve to provide lasting prosperity, which in turn gives rise to justice and world peace. It's a beautiful new world. The question is: How in the world did the People, the Neo-Caps, do it? 



A Trill Island Surprise



The year was 2022. The Honored Guest couldn’t believe his good fortune. He was finally arriving at Trill Island, a place he could only imagine before and had always wanted to visit. He’d been briefed that his coming and going would be conducted with the utmost of discretion, and that is why his bodyguards had been instructed to stand down for the day. It all worked out very smoothly.

The Guest watched in wonder as the cloaked island appeared and its waterfall entrance parted to let his chopper into the Trill Island landing pad. What a wonder of technology! He disembarked and was immediately escorted to the dining area where all the Trills were assembled around a long table. The Guest was seated and took a quick head count, assessed who was among them and noted a few surprising faces. Since he surely had been invited to become one of them, he would be Number 14. The Guest thrilled at the thought, with goosebumps running up and down his spine.

The thirteen Trills had apparently just finished a lavish feast; servers were clearing plates and refreshing wine glasses, and not one offered him a dish. Odd . . . Ah, here it comes. He was served a layered chocolate concoction and a glass of bubbling spring water. As he ate a few luscious bites and drank a few sips, the Trill to his right began to speak in a loud and decisive tone: “You’ve been invited here today as our guest of honor. Welcome.”

The chocolate mousse thing was really delicious, and the Guest could feel each heavenly bite on his palate. He felt warmed by its yumminess. The Trill continued: “We are well aware of your recent and past financial losses. Your many foul schemes have taken a major toll on our own positions, exposing many of us to losses beyond any measure we’ve ever before endured.”

Was he hearing this correctly? It almost sounded like he was being reprimanded. And Jeez Louise, was he ever feeling a warming sensation! He stopped eating, took a large gulp of his spring water, and looked more directly at the speaker, who paused at length before he continued: “Because of your errors of judgment and flagrant disregard for those who made it possible for you to attain your positions of power, both in government and personal wealth, we sentence you to a sacrificial event on the sacred Trill altar. Follow me!”

The Guest did his best to respond to the speaker, but no sounds came out of his slack-jawed mouth. Nor could he even stand on his own feet. But it needn’t have worried him, as he was aided to do so by two well-muscled manservants who stepped forward and took him from his place at the table, one holding each arm. . .



About the Author

Born in 1948, Curt is the oldest of seven children. He lived in Japan where his father was stationed during the Korean War. He then lived in Carlsbad, NM, and later in Dallas, Texas, where he witnessed the shooting death of President John F. Kennedy .

Curt served in the US Army Dental Corps, after which he worked as a pipe fitter and welder.

Curt attended NMSU, graduating with Honors in 1975, with a BA in Government & Political Science. He then earned a Masters Degree in Public Administration and Management, again graduating with Honors.

He and his wife had three children and later divorced.

Curt held the position of City Planner and Zoning Administrator for Las Cruces, NM; he was the Assistant City Manager for Alamogordo, NM; he served as the Chaves County Manager, Roswell, NM; he became the CAO of the New Mexico Transportation Department, managing a $2 Billion annual budget.

In 2000 he retired from New Mexico State government. Curt then co-founded and developed KidsKare PC Family Dentistry, working as CAO. KidsKare is one of the largest New Mexico networks of dental clinics.

For over a decade, since the 2008 economic collapse, Curt worked passionately on developing the concept of Middle-Class Capitalism, a sound strategy for creating greater wealth and self-sufficiency among all economic classes, utilizing the capitalist tools of trade already at our disposal.

Quoting Curt: "By following the carefully constructed wealth-building methods outlined in this book and on my website, we will demonstrate to the world how all seven billion humans can live sustainably and responsibly as owners of our own international corporations and businesses, large and small."


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Saturday, February 22, 2020

Abigail Waits




YA, Middle Grade, Bullying
Published: September 2019
Publisher: BookBaby

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Bullying-the word itself brings negative connotations. It doesn't differentiate race, gender or creed. Boundless with its grip and cruelty, the assistance of the internet leads it slithering through homes, schools, cities and countries. Meet Abigail, a victim of bullying that has hurt her mentally and physically. Hiding in the woods, away from words and hands that can hurt her is her only solace. Hannah, daughter to Cherokee Indian Chief Daniel Littlejohn, is continuing his work , after her father's passing, locating Cherokee that perished deep in a thousand acre tract of woods to reunite them with their ancestors. At midnight is when Hannah enters the woods to be undetected. The forest seems to come alive! Walking by a stream she catches a glimpse of a girl. Hannah calls out and the mysterious girl disappears. "Who is this girl and why is she here?" Running to find her Hannah sees a pair of red eyes glaring in her direction. "Is this what father meant when he warned me about coming in the woods alone? Abigail watches Hannah. "Why does this Cherokee girl beckon me? Does she mean me harm?" Exiting the woods Hannah decides to seek help and assemble a team of trusted friends. Will time run out for the girl by the stream? The author has taken a mystical tale weaved with characters depicted in Indian folklore to spread the message of hope and kindness for anyone that has been a target of cruel behavior. Abigail takes us through the kind of despair where only isolation makes her feel safe. This happens too often in real life. Memorable and heartwarming the authors message is to look beyond someone's nationality, disabilities , gender creed and see the individual for who they are.






About the Author

Bunny Lee was born and raised in Greensboro, North Carolina. She resides in Golconda, Illinois.



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Friday, February 21, 2020

A truth About... by Cecile Correa

Non Fiction / Self-Help / Motivational / Personal Development
Date Published: 19th of January 2020 (ebook) – Paperback

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“A Truth About…” is a composition of 52 poems for nurturing your ever -growing soul. Exploring topic from mind, body and intuition to love, parenting and life goals, the book embraces the broad and wondrous spectrum of the human experience. Covering 52 keys areas of our life, this book provides one insight per week. A year of inspiring poetry.





          


CĂ©cile Correa


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Thursday, February 20, 2020

The Lost Train


Action Adventure Thriller
Date Published: 2/20/20
Publisher: Golden Acorn Press

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A former MP, Will Stattin, is called to Europe to investigate the theft of several paintings. He learns that the paintings are part of a series of nine pieces of art, all with a clue that ultimately leads to a train that disappeared from Konigsberg, Germany in late 1944 full of gold, art, and priceless artifacts. He quickly learns that he is not the only one after the paintings. Now it is a race across Europe to find the paintings and the lost train with the help of the beautiful and savvy museum agent, Giovanna Rossi, before the hunt turns even more deadly than it already has.

About the Author

Seth Crossman is a minister, speaker, and writer who lives in Upstate New York. His own adventures have taken him across the globe and stirred his desire to write fast-paced, provocative thrillers that keep readers turning the page. He has three boys that he wants to inspire with a sense of adventure and courage to overcome whatever obstacles get in their way.


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Wednesday, February 19, 2020

Pepperoni Pizza Pinching Chimps




Children's Book, Middle Grade
Date Published: October 2019

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A Mystery unfolds when pizza delivery boys along with their pizzas keep disappearing, mostly pepperoni pizzas.

Keah is puzzled by strange noises that happen around the apartment building where she lives.

With the help of her friends, Keah is determined to find out why these things are happening before her family get back from the cruise.





Excerpt

Chapter 1



Bang, bang, bang!

        The knock on the front door made Keah jolt awake. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes she stretched and yawned.

        “Who is it?” she shouted as she stretched again.
        “Pizza!” The voice from the other side of the door shouted back.
        “I didn’t order any pizza,” Keah replied.
        Walking over to the front door, she picked up a small stool and placed it by the entrance before stepping on it. She pushed her eye up to the spy hole. Her dad had assumed that everyone was going to grow six-foot-tall when he had the spy hole fitted, but for Keah, who was struggling to reach five foot two, a stool was the only option.
Keah could see a mass of curly black hair with a red cap perched on top. A boy about her age, sixteen, moved away from the door and turned to face Keah's front door. He stood awkwardly, holding a stack of pizza boxes.

        “Someone at this address did, Miss. Someone has to pay for all these pizzas. My boss is gonna be livid if I take them back.”

        “I didn’t order any pizzas. Go away. I’m calling the police.” Keah stepped away from the door.

        That’s when she heard that noise. The sound that grated through every bone in her body. It was the noise that made her spine tingle like fingernails running down a blackboard. A thought rushed through her head: Is that two pieces of metal scraping together? She shuddered and took a deep breath.

        Looking back through the spy hole, she watched the boy look around quickly, then turn and head back down the hallway, shaking his head. She heard him talking loudly and cursing to himself as he shoved the boxes back into the pizza warmers. His boss was going to be so annoyed. He had just walked past Mrs. Joy’s front door—Mrs. Joy was Keah’s neighbour—when he stopped and turned. Walking back to Mrs. Joy’s front door, the pizza delivery boy spoke to someone, but Keah couldn’t quite see who.

        Keah thought she saw dark shadows enter the hallway and move around the pizza delivery boy. But she couldn’t quite see who it was before the hall light switched off. Keah desperately wanted to go out into the hallway and turn on the light just to see who the boy was speaking to, but instead, she stepped off the stool and slid down the door onto the floor.

        Taking a deep breath, she crawled over to the coffee table, grabbed her iPhone and then edged her way back to the door. Even with her ear pressed against the door, she heard nothing but silence. Pressing her phone to wake, she opened her keypad. Slowly she pressed the button 000. She then placed her phone on the carpet next to her. What if Mrs. Joy had visitors, and they had ordered the pizzas? How stupid would I look? She thought to herself as she rested her head against the door and yawned. What a weird smell. I feel so tired. Keah thought before she finally closed her eyes.

        Bang, bang, bang!

        The vibrations from the banging on the door awoke her with a start. The light was now streaming in through the window, and the traffic sounded noisy. She felt the door vibrate against her back as the knock came again. Realizing she must have fallen asleep by the front door, Keah crawled into her bedroom, crouched at the side of her bed and listened. She heard people outside in the hallway. Someone banged on her neighbour’s door. Mrs. Joy is getting a lot of visitors lately, she thought.

She showered quickly and got ready for school. Slightly hesitant, she opened the front door and stepped out into the hallway. A tall policeman stepped in front of her.

        “Oh,” she announced, quite startled. “What’s going on?”

        “Morning, Miss. Do you live in this apartment?” The policeman had a broad Australian accent. Keah stepped back. She turned and glanced at the door before nodding dumbly.

        “Why didn’t you answer your door when I knocked earlier?” The policeman leered at Keah, making her stomach turn.

        “Got ID?” Keah said, avoiding eye contact.

        The policeman fumbled inside his tunic and eventually pulled out a wallet and showed her his identification card. By now, he had been joined by another man. This one was not in uniform but in a dark grey suit.

        “Morning, Miss. Got a name? I’m Detective Sergeant Paul Grimes.” He whipped out his ID before she could even think of asking.

        “Keah. Keah Madelia.”

        Keah had stepped back again and was now squished up tight against her own front door.

        “Where are your parents, Keah? You don't live here alone, do you? You off to school?” The DS bombarded her with questions, and all she could do was shake her head.

        “Well?” DS Paul Grimes said.

        The uniformed policeman started to look around the hallway as if he was losing interest in Keah.

        “My-my parents are cruising around New Zealand, somewhere. I’m on my own till they get back. I am old enough. I’m sixteen—well, I’ll be sixteen in a few weeks!”

        “Are you off to school?” DS Grimes asked again. “Which one?”

        “Yeah. St. Luke’s, at the corner of Holden Street,” Keah replied. Looking up at the DS, she asked him what all the police were doing in her building.

        “Don’t suppose you’d let my young officer here just poke his nose inside, would you? Only a pizza delivery boy went missing last night, and we believe this was his last delivery before he disappeared.”

Keah’s eyes widened, and her heart quickened. I saw him—I saw him talking to someone at Mrs. Joy’s front door. Keah wanted to scream at the detective, but instead she looked at her front door again then back at DS Grimes.

        “I’m late for school, and I didn’t order any pizza, perhaps Mrs. Joy did,” she declared boldly, pushing her key in the lock and letting the door swing wide open. “Knock ya self out.”

        Keah watched two policemen step out of Mr. & Mrs. Guey’s flat before she stepped back inside hers.

        She saw the uniformed policeman pull a pair of white disposable gloves from his pocket and watched as he rummaged around in the kitchen bin. Satisfied nothing was exciting in the waste bin, the policeman walked into Keah’s room, emerging a few moments later. Glad I tidied up after showering this morning. That could have been embarrassing, Keah thought. DS Grimes emerged from her parent’s bedroom. Her sister’s door was wide open. Mia would not be happy if she found out they’d touched her doll collection, which sat the whole length of one wall.

        “Did you hear anything last night, Keah? About 9 o’clock?” DS Grimes enquired softly.

Keah was already shaking her head from side to side and looking toward the window.

        “No, nothing, sorry. I-I um, I fell asleep quite early last night.”

        The DS reached into his inside pocket and pulled out what looked like a business card. He held it out to Keah.

        “Well, if you do recall anything, please call me. No matter how silly or small you may think it is, I would still like to hear about it. Okay?”

DS Paul Grimes pushed the card into Keah’s hand and left. The other policeman quietly followed, not even looking at Keah as he walked past her. Keah studied the card. Her older sister was around his age and single.

        And he is cute for a cop. Maybe a bit grumpy for Erin, Keah reasoned with herself.

        She slipped the card into her school bag before throwing it over her shoulder. Slamming the door behind her, Keah rushed past the policemen in the hall and skipped down the stairs into the street. She didn't look back or slow down until she’d reached her school three kilometers away.

Her best friend Abby was waiting for her at the gate as usual. A total contrast to Keah’s fair complexion and strawberry blonde hair, Abby had olive skin and dark hair that matched her equally dark eyes.

Keah turned and scoured the street before entering the school. She linked her arm through Abby's as they walked the long driveway to the school building.

        “Did you hear what happened last night?” Abby asked.

        Keah shook her head from side to side as if she hadn’t heard and glanced at Abby.

        “Another pizza boy disappeared. That’s four now,” Abby said, quite anxious.

        “Oh yeah, that—apparently it happened in our building. The boy delivered pizza to someone in our building then vanished,” Keah tried to act nonchalant but didn’t dare look at Abby again, in case she saw the guilt in her eyes.

        Keah knew she had been acting strange since her parents left for the cruise and that she should have gone to help that boy last night, but she hadn’t.

        “Oh, Keah! Did you see him? Did you order pizza? No—you wouldn’t—I know that, but Keah, how dreadful,” Abby cried as she let go of Keah’s arm and swung around to face her. “Have you told the police? Are you alright?”

        Keah nodded. She looked fine, but her stomach was knotted, and she felt shaky.

        No one had been there when Keah was woken up at 2am by the dreadful screams. She felt as if she was going mad with the scratching from the inside of her wardrobe. It came from the ceiling, from under the floor. She felt tired but didn’t want to tell anyone in case they thought it was because she was on her own and couldn't cope. Although she often spoke to her neighbours, neither had commented on the noises to Keah. The sounds started two days after her parents left with her six-year-old sister Mia. She now wished she had gone with them, but it was too late. At the time her exams were more important. Plus, the excitement of staying home all on her own for three weeks was more than she dared wish for.

        Keah had planned get-togethers at her place and even a massive party. She had run the party idea through her mum because she knew someone would tell her parents. So, she told her it would be very low key and if her mum had wanted her oldest sister Erin, who lived way over at Happy Valley, to come and supervise, that was cool. At the time Keah had felt that she was old enough to cope with a few friends on her own. Now, she was not so sure.



About the Author


Tracey C Ayres writes action-packed mysteries which are fun and exciting for young readers. Most of her books have heroines rather than hero's, for no particular reason, and her characters are intrepid, quick-witted and smart, and sometimes they are even fearless. Because Tracey believes when we lose ourselves in a story, our imagination should hold no barriers.

Best known for her book Gularian Islands (the one with the blinking dragon eye on Youtube) which received an incredible five stars LitPik review.

Tracey was born in England where she grew up with two older sisters and three younger brothers. Studied childcare, social work and psychology and wrote for a local newspaper but now loves her current job the best and that is writing stories for young children.

Living in Australia with her husband, daughters, grandchildren and a menagerie of pets she loves to find a shady tree and lose herself in her adventures while writing.


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Tuesday, February 18, 2020

The Lady is Trouble


League of Lords, Book 1
Historical Romance
Date Published: February 18, 2020

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In the first in Tracy Sumner’s sizzling League of Lords historical series, mysticism in Victorian England is the setting for a captivating love affair . . .

He’s a viscount with a dark past who yearns for the one woman he can’t have. She’s rebellious, spurned by society and determined to change his mind.

What’s a defiant woman to do when the man she’s meant for doesn’t believe in love?

After three years of waiting for Julian Alexander to realize they are destined to be together, Lady Piper Scott takes matters into her own hands. Because her gift as a healer has never done anything but distance her from the most principled man in England. A meaningless diversion as a medium, all done to gain a certain wandering viscount’s attention, backfires. As most endeavors have for a woman known in the ton as Scandalous Scott.

What’s a reluctant viscount to do when the woman he can’t have becomes the woman he can’t live without?

Julian Alexander, Lord Beauchamp, battled his way from the lowliest slum to assume his title. He carries not only a turbulent past, but a mystical psychic gift that separates him from society. Honorable to his core, he is committed to protecting a community of outcasts with abilities like his own. He has no time, no place, for love. Or repeatedly rescuing the most outrageous, beguiling woman he’s ever known. Even if she needs his protection most—and he desires her above all others.

Seduction, intrigue and desire lead to an explosive passion…

Julian vowed to shield Piper from the deadly foes seeking to possess her powerful gift. Although he needs her help in controlling his own, the mix could be deadly. Soon what was once a simple agreement to work together becomes enchantingly complex as they surrender to a timeless love…



Praise for Tracy Sumner's novels:

“Delicious and amusing…witty dialogue, sparkling humor and a snappy narrative. A must read!” —The Best Reviews

“Terrific dialogue…and hot loves scenes. If you haven’t read Tracy Sumner before, Tides of Passion is a good place to start.” —All About Romance

“A powerful relationship novel that explores the heartache and triumph of love.” —Romantic Times

“The battle of the sexes heats up the pages of this fun and fresh romance by talented new writer Tracy Sumner.” —New York Times bestselling author Susan Wiggs



 Excerpt



 There is nothing stable in the world; uproar’s your only music. John Keats

Chapter One

London, 1865



Allowing the lady to lure him into her carriage had been a brilliant idea.

Julian Alexander stared at a spider crack in the ceiling of his Mayfair town home and wondered when he might start to believe it. He could presume encountering a former lover outside Hatchards on an otherwise lonely evening was a fortuitous event if there weren’t the niggling—familiar—pinch of regret the moment his cock settled.

A faint sense of having erred, gone off the path and into a twilight woodland where one could be easily lost.

As lost as he’d felt stepping into her dimly lit carriage.

Julian watched Marianne wrap herself in his silk dressing gown, her chatter lulling him into a state of satiated distraction. Only the first and third word of each sentence filtering through, he found the conversation definitively complete. Earl, garden, tryst, scandal. Titles and the men who held them occupied her undivided interest. Each day spent investigating a riddle that had no solution.

Was not, in fact, worth the attention she devoted to it.

In all fairness, Julian could not judge.

His mystical gift separated him from a normal existence and made the world he’d been born into at times unrecognizable. Out of a sense of duty, he played the part of the gentleman for

the solitary purpose of propping up the viscountcy, adhering to society’s rules while struggling to preserve his secrets and the secrets of those he protected. Of course, he tendered his title when it benefited himself or the League. But a barony would have profited as well and knocked him down a notch, perhaps enough to slip beneath the waves and be carried from view.

He closed his eyes and let the waves crash over him.

Then Marianne mucked it up by kicking the door to the past wide open.

He rose to his elbow, knocking the counterpane aside. Dragging his hand through his hair, he asked, “Repeat that, will you?” Alarm vibrated through his belly, like swimming in the sea and realizing a massive wave crested behind you. No, it couldn’t be. “Come again?”

Marianne’s gaze settled where the sheet hung low on his hips. “So, you were listening.” She reached to touch, a stroke on air. Licked her lips in the event he didn’t register her appreciation. “Jules, with you, I never know.”

He slid high in the bed, suppressing his annoyance. Jules. He’d asked her to refrain from calling him that. Too. Many. Memories. “Marianne, the clairvoyant?”

Her smile grew luminous, her delight underscoring the scant attention he offered. Without trying to be a disdainful cad, it seemed he was precisely that. “Oh, darling, it was the most farcical evening! Ashcroft arranged for a fortune teller to entertain, and you know him. For a duke, he pushes the boundaries of propriety while always staying within the limit.” She leaned in, clutching the lapels of his dressing gown to her bosom. “I heard there was absinthe served to the men. Why, the festivities were enough to make a stuffed bird laugh!”

Julian hummed low in his throat and rose from the bed. He didn’t know but could imagine. Hell’s teeth, he thought and reached for his clothes, which lay in a tidy pile next to the chiffonier. Taken off without haste, neatly folded.

He frowned. How little had he wanted this encounter?

“I didn’t glean any outrageous tidbit about my future. Though I tried.” She lifted a delicate shoulder beneath silk. “More the delight just being there.”

He buttoned his shirt, slipped his braces over his shoulders. “You mentioned the woman had an unusual accent.”

Marianne crossed the room, slippers striking the floor in an eager rhythm. “It was dark, too dark to see anything. Very mysterious. Madame wore a veil, and there was candlelight. The ideal setting. Although Ashcroft seemed oddly anxious the entire evening, adding nothing to our merriment.” At Julian’s impatient look, she rushed on, “Madame’s accent came out on one word. She sounded almost...” She twirled her hand in a languid circle, finger pointed toward the plaster ceiling rose. “Ad-ver-tise-ment. That’s what she called the sheet she handed me. She sounded, can you imagine, American? Would that not be a vulgar surprise?” She laughed it away, swept beneath the Aubusson at her feet. “Although I’m sure I misheard. Doubtless, an upstart trying to hide cockney.”

Julian’s fingers twitched, missing a button on his waistcoat. He moved too forcefully across the room as she took a stumbling step back. “Where is it?” He drew a breath laced with the scent of Marianne’s perfume and the acrid aroma rolling in the open window. Soot, sewage. That damned river. Christ, he hated London. “The advertisement.” He extended his hand, controlling the tremor that wanted to travel from his fingers to his heart.

Could. Not. Be. Piper was tucked away in Gloucestershire. Under armed guard. Protected. Safe. Their enemies had been searching for her since she’d arrived from New York all those years ago. But they wouldn’t look in Gloucestershire. She knew this. He’d cautioned her more times than he could count. Had been advising her for years, it seemed.

Marianne regarded him through eyes the color of fresh cow dung. “Why, darling, I fear I’ve not seen you react…to anything. Appetites fed but the heart untouched.” She waved away her discomfiture and a statement she likely wished she’d kept to herself. Turning in a crimson whirl, she moved to rifle through the reticule sitting atop the chaise lounge, one just the shade of emerald eyes Julian had tried with little success to forget. “Lucky for you, I saved it. As proof, I experienced such an evening. Who would believe otherwise?”

Julian flexed his fingers, preparing for the transmission. His gift didn’t marry well with a lack of sleep. Touching an object and being pulled into the otherworld of someone who had touched it previously was brutal enough. Stepping into that world when exhausted was reckless and allowed the experience to control him.

Maybe it wasn’t Piper, and this endeavor would be nothing more than supernatural experimentation. He’d sent Finn to visit her last month. Or had it been May? A headache moved to the base of his skull. Lifting his hand to his brow, he pressed hard.

Blast it, had they not visited since the spring?

Marianne thrust the advertisement at him, and he hesitated. Taking time to notice she’d only secured an ear bob, and it dangled there without a partner, bouncing as she did. Her lips canted, though he’d bet a half-sovereign the smile would disappear if she fathomed the source of his reluctance. If she had any idea who he truly was and how his gift of sight forever separated them, she would run screaming into the misty night. “If you’re interested, Julian, and I’m shocked you are, Madame DuPre is doing a reading tonight. The address is listed.”

His breath seized. Madame DuPre. The name conjured forgotten summers of youth. Running through fields of grass so tall the blades hit his thigh; swimming in shallow lakes on moonlit nights; climbing trees until he was breathless surveying all that fell below. Laughter and

foolishness—even love by some arcane definition—on a scale he and Piper could no longer afford.

Julian huffed a sigh and grabbed the sheet before he could think better of it. Or stop himself, which he would not, because it appeared Piper had jumped off another goddamn ledge.

And he was her rescuer. Her caretaker.

Her warden.

I’m going to throttle her, was all he managed as he crushed the foolscap in his hand and stepped into the otherworld.

Shadow and candlelight bathed the room. The curious combination of burnt ashes, spice, and lilac. Piper was settled over a desk, her gown as golden as the Kingcup scattered along Harbingdon’s riverbank each spring. Moonlight carved a path along the floor and Julian followed the dazzling footpath of silvery blue. The walls surrounding her were covered in tattered wallpaper, peeling at the ceiling and seams. The furniture was scuffed, the rug threadbare. The dwelling was nothing like Finn’s description of the modest but opulent manor in Gloucestershire.

His heart thumped desperately against his breastbone. She was more vivid than any model he’d ever painted, and he had tried to recreate her, a thousand strokes of brush to canvas.

Her vibrancy eluded him.

Stumbling back, he tried to step out of the trance. It was a problem lately that he had trouble doing so. The otherworld had a voracious claim on him. Through eyes drawn to slits, he observed Marianne’s lips moving, but he was too entrenched in another space and time to respond.

Too entrenched in her.

Independent of his gift, Piper Scott had a stronger hold over him than any woman could ever hope to have.

Muttering a harsh oath, he dropped the advertisement like it burnt his skin and the image of Piper spiraled away, water down a drain. Forcing him from the room with the tattered wallpaper and the girl he’d sworn to protect with his life but never touch again to preserve hers.

The woman for whom he hungered.

Dear God, Piper, what have you done?

He was through the door and into the hallway before another breath had passed, ducking as a vase accompanied Marianne’s shriek of rage.

#


About the Author


Tracy's story telling career began when she picked up a copy of LaVyrle Spencer's Vows on a college beach trip. A couple of degrees (BA, Journalism-MA, Media Arts) and a thousand romance novels later, she decided to try her hand at writing a southern version of the perfect love story. With a great deal of luck and more than a bit of perseverance, she sold her first novel to Kensington Publishing.

Tracy has been awarded the National Reader's Choice, HOLT Medallion, the Write Touch and the Beacon - with finalist nominations in the HOLT Medallion, Heart of Romance, Rising Stars and Reader's Choice. Her books have been translated into German, Dutch, Portuguese and Spanish.

She lives in the south, but after spending a few years in NYC, considers herself a New Yorker at heart. She loves hearing from readers about why she tends to pit her hero and heroine against each other or that great novel she simply must read.


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