knew that unraveling the secrets on Acryen would be difficult, but she didn’t
know that it would be deadly. She knew this from the scars on her body and the
heat in her eyes.
months have passed and what was meant to be an easy journey across the ocean
has turned perilous as she’s come to realize that they’ve boarded the wrong
ship—a slaver’s ship run by a cunning and devious man known only as Captain
Red. Elle can’t help but find herself drawn to him and repelled at the same
time. Yet, when a powerful hurricane hits the ship and Elle’s life is in
danger, Peter’s hidden powers awaken, and now, they’re in trouble. The stakes
are much higher than before, and Elle’s afraid that the only way out is with
must find the necklace awaiting in Gyoar before an elf meets her end, a quaid
falls prey, a mother commits treason, and a king masks his
above all, she must find it before her fate is sealed in
where hope lies, fire
Yasmin Fazli was born and raised in
Southern California, changing schools her whole life. Now, she is an
undergraduate college student studying biology to satisfy her love for the
sciences. Yet, another part of her started to show more and more: her love for
writing. She often dreams of mystical places and the perfect bad boy/prince
charming who will come sweep her away. Until those happen, she continues to
write away, living her fantasies through typed words with all kinds of sweets
in one hand and a cup of chai tea in the other hopeful that one day her words
could inspire even just one
(Spin-off to Crossroads Saga) -
Read Prequel - The Angel Knights - first **Can be read as stand-alone
When teens go missing in Hawaii, a group of
demon-hunters—half human and half angel—disguised as high school students, must
leave Crossroads, the place where they reside. In a race against time, they
uncover the mystery connecting the missing teens, which dates back to the era
of the Knights Templar. However, when they discover one of the Templars passed
down a book containing all the secrets and codes to finding a particular
treasure, they soon realize this forbidden treasure needs to be found before
Cyrus, the lord of the possessor demons, acquires it—a treasure which been
safeguarded and hidden from him.
There is only one problem: the pages containing the clues
leading to the treasure is missing. When the first page is found, Cyrus
threatens to kill more descendants of the Knights Templar if it is not given to
him by Friday the thirteenth. In the midst of threats and discovery, the
demon-hunting angels find they are not alone when supernatural beings begin to
reveal themselves. Can they put their differences aside and work together to
solve the Knights Templars’ cipher? As they astral travel to the past, they
witness a lot more than they have bargained for. And some things are better
Mary Ting resides in Southern
California with her husband and two children. She enjoys oil painting and
making jewelry. Writing her first novel, Crossroads Saga, happened by chance.
It was a way to grieve the death of her beloved grandmother, and inspired by a
dream she once had as a young girl. When she started reading new adult novels,
she fell in love with the genre. It was the reason she had to write
one-Something Great. Why the pen name, M Clarke? She tours with Magic Johnson
Foundation to promote literacy and her children’s chapter book-No Bullies
THE GIRL IN THE RED HOOD has been looking for her mother
for six months, searching from the depths of New York’s subways to the heights
of its skyscrapers . .
THE PRINCE looks like he’s from another time entirely, or
maybe he’s just too good at his job at Ye Old Renaissance Faire . .
THE ACTRESS is lighting up Hollywood Boulevard with her
spellbinding and strikingly convincing portrayal of a famous fairy. Her name
may be big, but her secrets barely fit in one world . . .
Fifteen-year-old Crescenzo never would have believed his
father’s carvings were anything more than “stupid toys.” All he knows is a
boring life in an ordinary Virginia suburb, from which his mother and his best
friend have been missing for years. When his father disappears next, all
Crescenzo has left is his goofy neighbor, Pietro, who believes he’s really
Peter Pan and that Crescenzo is the son of Pinocchio. What’s more: Pietro
insists that they can find their loved ones by looking to the strange
collection of wooden figurines Crescenzo’s father left
With Pietro’s help, Crescenzo sets off on an adventure to
unite the real life counterparts to his figurines. It’s enough of a shock that
they’re actually real, but the night he meets the Girl in the Red Hood, dark
truths burst from the past. Suddenly, Crescenzo is tangled in a nightmare where
magic mirrors and evil queens rule, and where everyone he loves is running out
Check back tomorrow for full review included!
When Jacob Devlin was four years old, he would lounge
around in Batman pajamas and make semi-autobiographical picture books about an
adventurous python named Jake the Snake. Eventually, he traded his favorite
blue crayon for a black pen, and he never put it down. When not reading or
writing, Jacob loves practicing his Italian, watching stand-up comedy, going
deaf at rock concerts, and geeking out at comic book conventions. He does most
of these things in southern
Pino scowled over his mug, then let his mouth curve into a
smile. The old Pietro was coming back to the surface. “Anyway, you’ll go? Look
for my wife and your family?”
With a sigh, Pietro rubbed his face so hard his eyelids
drooped. “Would you come with
Pino wiggled his thumb: click, click, click, click. “Do
you not hear my joints
“Still?” Pietro rested his elbows on his knees. “What’s
happening to you?”
Pino lowered his voice. “My guess is there’s some real
dark stuff goin’ on back home. After all, we’re not supposed to be here, and I
was once a . . . Well, you know. I’m afraid I won’t get very far out the door,
if I can even move anymore in a week.”
Pietro drummed on his lap, shooting air through his teeth
as he contemplated. “Fine. I’ll go. But I have a question. When do we tell
Crescenzo who we really
“I trust you’ll figure it out, Peter.” Pino winked. “After
all, you were the boy who learned how to fly.”
The much anticipated THE DEMON KING by Heather Killough-Walden is now available! If you love PNR, readers have said that there are some series' that are completely addictive, and this is one of them! Find out why below!
The Demon King
(The Kings Series, #9)
by Heather Killough-Walden
Dahlia Kellen has been through hell. Raised in a fae society that slowly drove her mad, she turned traitor against her people and was cast out. But in an act of heroism that clearly exposed her for the good she was, she rose up against the true evil threatening her people, and in her efforts to stop that evil, she was terribly transformed. Now dark, different, and feeling truly exiled in her soul, Dahlia has a chance encounter with a man in Boston. A man whose gaze is as dark and haunted as her own… and whose craven desire for her and dangerous, powerful bloodline will show Dahlia that for her, hell is just the beginning.
“I’ve come with a message about your father,” said the stranger.
“You’re speaking of Marius.” Marius was dead. Laz would know; he’d killed him.
But the messenger smiled. “No, no. Not quite,” he said, white teeth gleaming in an unholy grin. “Think bigger. Think badder.”
Steven Lazarus is a seasoned detective with the Boston police force who has always served and protected, and done so by the book. But the Akyri King’s insides are heating up, a painful yearning is tearing away at him, and his tall, strong body has become capable of a dark, violent magic he can barely control. His dangerous past has caught up with him, and he can scarcely stand to look at his own reflection. He doesn’t recognize the man staring back at him, and that terrifies him.
Because he knows the powerful, hungry man in the mirror wants Dahlia Kellen just as badly as he does. And if he has to, he’ll raise hell to claim her.
The Demon King is the 9th book in the best selling The Big Bad Wolf spinoff series, The Kings, by New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, Heather Killough-Walden.
Available for purchase at
She wasn’t human. And if he wasn’t mistaken, there was just a hint of something sharp revealing itself when she spoke. Vampire? Akyri? She felt like both and neither. Not that it mattered. All that mattered to Lazarus at that point in time was getting her out of that warehouse and to some safer, less conspicuous place where they could be alone.
But now he was staring down at the animal standing between them. It was a dog of all things, and one that was obviously ready to rip his leg off. Dogs weren’t something he would have pegged as a companion for a creature like the stranger before him. Dragons maybe. Or some sort of unicorn-bunny-kitten mix. Something sparkly, at the very least, with really big eyes. Not mutt dogs. And he was pretty sure this one had fleas.
Confusion joined the vexation of his growing impatience. He forced himself to remain calm. “A friend of yours?” he asked, looking back up. Locking eyes on her was like an immediate reward. But the dog’s growl intensified.
The woman’s brow furrowed. She blinked as if she were coming out of something, and his fight or flight instincts kicked in. He prepared to do the former because he was afraid she would do the latter.
“Yes,” she suddenly said, and her expression changed. Fierceness slipped into her eyes, and her jaw set. She looked from the dog back up to him, and as she did so, she placed her hand lovingly on the dog’s head. The animal let out a soft whine, licked its lips once, then slid back into warning mode, baring its teeth at Lazarus. “So if you don’t mind, we’ll be leaving now,” she asserted.
Laz’s attention spiked. “Oh, I won’t argue with that,” he said.
She would be leaving, just not without him.
- The Demon King, by Heather Killough-Walden
Coming September 16, 2016
The Kings Series
Also Available in Audio
About The Author
Heather Killough-Walden is a California native currently living in Texas with her husband, child, and King Charles Cavalier. She is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Big Bad Wolf series, The Kings series, the Lost Angels series, the October Trilogy, the Neverland series, and The Chosen Soul series. Heather’s educational background includes religious studies, archeology, and law. She has traveled all over the world but hopes to one day live in a town with a world-class hockey team. (Let’s Go Pens!)
High school for the recently departed ( #1)
Walker Callaghan has just
arrived at the Academy after a tragic car accident. “Is this heaven or is this
high school?” she asks.
She finds out her new life is
a bit of both as she falls in love with tat-covered, bad boy Daniel Reid who is
about to break the only sacred rule of this place. He's looking for a portal to
return back to the living realm.
He needs just one hour to
retrieve his younger brother who strangely never arrived at The Academy.
is an Earth Bound Spirit, stuck at a plane crash site that took both of their
lives as their rich father piloted his private jet nose-first into a cornfield
on Christmas Eve.
Walker loves Daniel and risks
it all to go with him.
Have they learned enough to
outsmart dangerous forces while transporting a young child with them? Can their
love survive the fragmented evil parts of themselves that are now hunting them
down as they try to find a way back to the middle?
At the Academy, you learn the
lessons of an after-lifetime
In the Midst—a place for those
who die young—there are no rules except one.
And Walker Callaghan, dead at
seventeen, just broke it. She briefly revisited her earthly life . . . and the
punishment is eternal. Longing for her rebel love interest, Daniel Reid, Walker
finds an ally in Cass, whose attraction to her is as alive as he is. “Life is
short,” he tells her. “I’m banking on eternity. With you.”
In the second book of the
Ascenders Saga, a realm-jumping journey takes Walker and Daniel back to life
again when they search for something buried in history. They team with students
from several other schools in the middle realm including a place for teens born
with oddities. It’s home to the Claires . . . beautiful, ruthless, and quite
dead seventeen-year-old quads who each have a different clairvoyant gift.
Can Walker survive another
adventure of an afterlife-time—or will she find herself on the downside of
We wandered to a back alley
where Daniel hooked a large finger in the collar of my new suit jacket, almost
ripping the threads as he dragged me in. His mouth crushed mine, half in
passion and the other half in relief that we made it through another portal in
one piece. I was the one who reluctantly pulled back and it was not just
because of the times. It was because of the uncertainty.
Back on the main avenue, I
asked the real question: “What year is it?”
Fireman Marty looked at me as
if I had lost my marbles.
“What year is it! Now that’s a
good one – and I needed a laugh! Been 1958 all day, doll,” he says, slapping
his knee. “Will betomorrow,
too, although you can ask the President if you’d like.”
“I’ll ask Obama,” I slipped.
“What’s an Obama?” he flashed back.
“Thank you,” I whispered,
knowing that if it was 1958 in NYC, and I was standing on a sidewalk --
breathing, talking and passionately kissing Daniel - then one thing was
I was spending the day living
41 years before I was born.
C.L. Gaber writes YA fiction
from her home in Nevada where she lives with her husband Ron, bonus daughter
Sabrina and two unruly dogs.
During her day job she is a
film columnist. Yes Hollywood!!
Keiron was never meant to be anything other than a hero.
Born high above in a place of war and deception, he is Heartborn, a being of
purity and goodness in a place where there violence and deceit are just around
His disappearance will spark a war he cannot see, for
Keiron has pierced the light of days to save a girl he has never met, for
reasons he cannot understand. Livvy Foster is seventeen, brave, and broken.
With half a heart, she bears the scars of a lifetime of pain and little hope of
Until Keiron arrives.
In the middle of a brewing war and Livvy’s failing heart,
Keiron will risk everything for Livvy, because a Heartborn’s life can only end
in one way: Sacrifice.
Fall with Livvy and Keiron as they seek the truth about
her heart, and his power, and what it means to love with someone who will give
their very life to save you.
Available for purchase at
Chapter One: The Leap
The relentless wind cooled his skin as he mustered the courage to jump. It was a long way to fall, and he’d been poised on the edge for nearly an hour. It wasn’t fear that kept him rooted to the spot, but the effort of reaching through time to see what consequences his action might bring. To think of leaving was akin to dropping a boulder in the pool of his own history; there was no way to foresee what the ripples might cause. Or the waves, since this would make waves, not ripples. It was all an undiscovered thing.
No one had done what he meant to do; at least not in the memory of his House.
Under the points of his boots, featureless mist curled away to reveal an enticing glimpse of color and life so unlike his own home. Gray, he thought. I am so very tired of all the gray in these clouds. The longer he looked at the myriad of colors below, the more acute his hunger to see what mysteries rolled beneath him, unknown and vibrant. The land looked like a fairy tale made real, its hills and rivers gleaming like a promise in the early morning light. The sheer distance and appeal of it all clutched at his chest like a physical thing, making him cover his heart. His body fizzed with excitement and fear, and he liked it.
“You won’t go, you know.” His brother’s voice was bored to the point of insolence, a tone he’d perfected from years of practice. Like others who kept their face an impassable mask, he’d lost much of the joy in his life, if ever he knew it. Brother Garrick appeared from the sullen gray mist that hid the secret columns and towers of their home. Walking toward Keiron, a smile quirked at the cruel lips, so unlike his own. “We’ve already been to the edge of the scrying pool. You won’t go. It is known to us.” A look flickered across the impassive face, something ugly and hot. His control was slipping. That was new, as was his belief that he was equal to their parents. Or older siblings, at that.
“Yes. I will.” Keiron’s voice sounded small in the silence. Even the wind died out of respect for what he was about to say, and if his resolve held, what he would then do.
A sad shake of the perfect head said that was a lie. Garrick was beautiful to the point of distraction. His pupils were nearly colorless in a face framed with fine blonde hair that called sunlight to mind, so different from his brother. Garrick was light, while Keiron was dark, with skin golden from the sun and eyes the black of a starless night. A long, aquiline nose gave him a regal quality that Garrick, for all his perfection, could not possess. His hair was curled and ebony to the point of being liquid, a black mass that he pushed back with irritation at Garrick’s verbal assault. Keiron was lean and tall, and in the stages of bloom where men first leave boyhood behind when they are no longer concerned with a young man’s things.
Garrick spoke again, substituting arrogance for wisdom. “No. There is no escaping that which has passed. Even if you were to—”
A swift cut of Keiron’s hand broke the thought. His brother looked shocked, then amused, and then angry.
He didn’t like being spoken to that way. “I can, and I will. I know how to shift the light of days, and I know when to do it, too.”
“Really? A secret of that size, and you, a minor son, have figured it out? Do tell, fledgling.” He loved using Keiron’s youth as an insult, even though he was barely a year older.
“If you paid attention to anything other than yourself, you’d know that there is logic behind the Moondivers. There have been others, you know.” A hint of smugness colored Keiron’s defense, but his brother had it coming.
The reaction was volcanic.
Real anger spat forth from Garrick now, contorting his features into something crude and ugly. It was, Keiron thought, the first honest thing he’d seen of his brother in all these years. It was the face of fear and rage, and he knew why. This entire outburst was about power, or the lack of it. To control time was the province of elders, not some child who thought that he could move the forces of worlds to right a wrong. It was arrogance of a kind unlike anything he’d ever embraced, and his brother’s hate for him grew by the second because he knew that for all his perfection, the younger of them was more pure. The elder boy was ambition personified, but without courage and purity he would never control the clocks. For that matter, Garrick would not even control himself, a fact that dawned on him as he sputtered with rage.
Keiron squared his feet and repeated his intentions like a prayer. “The days will bend for me. I can feel it, and your anger will not change the truth.” His words rang with a kind of surety that made his legs shake, if only briefly.
It was something Garrick would say, and for that he was frightened and proud, since unlike his brother, Kieron meant every word of it and aimed to see it through.
In two long strides, his brother came close enough that he could smell the wind herbs on his breath. They were sour with hate, just like the expression contorting his face. “She’s already dead.”
Keiron went rigid, but fought mightily to gain control of the anger that bloomed in his chest. Heat spread like sunlight, and he took three long breaths to contain his next words. “She is now, but she won’t be when I get there. I told you. I can do it.”
“You think falling through time and distance can save her? Landing in that mud-spattered wallow that they crawl about in like feral swine? You don’t even know why they were driven from the land, let alone if death awaits you. What about you? Who can save you?” His brother barked with laughter, a short noise of jealousy and fear. “What if she doesn’t want to be saved? You’re a child. A favored pet who is loved because of his youth. You’re nothing but an amusement to this family.”
The wind blew harder as spots filled Keiron’s vision. He could not lose control, not now. He worked his jaw to let the words out. The sounds followed each other, chastened by the force of his will. “I have watched. I have learned. And I tell you, I am going, and she is worth saving.”
Garrick shrugged as the boredom returned to his face, now a mask of beautiful disinterest. “You actually care about them, don’t you? Those things down there? Those glorified cattle? Do you think they’re even capable of understanding us? We are not the benign, soft creatures that have been reshaped by their pitiful legends. We were born for war, not love. We are made to hurt, not heal.” He shook his head with a mocking grin. “You’ve always been weak, but this is beyond anything the family expected. It’s practically—”
“It’s decent, that’s the word you’re looking for.” Keiron’s voice was like iron, despite a small quiver at the end of his words. His jaw set again, and for an instant Garrick saw their grandfather’s stern profile there, lurking like a boulder under the surface of a still pool.
“You’re not even worth saving, let alone one of them.” Garrick’s eyes flicked down to the vista that unspooled under their feet, or perhaps it was above. It was difficult to tell with the curving horizon and shifting light. Part of what he saw was green, unlike their home. There were blue rivers, brown and green fields, and stony places worn by wind and weather. It was alien, but enticing. He let a woven cord of animal hide fall into his hand. On either end, a heavy molar prized from the jaw of a Windbeast acted as a weight. The teeth were well worn, and tied in with strands of fine leather. It had been a mature beast, killed to make things that the people of the wind needed. Like teeth. And rope.
“Then I belong with them, don’t I?” Keiron’s question was rhetorical.
Again, Garrick shrugged, this time with one shoulder. His lips peeled back to reveal perfect teeth, but there was no kindness in the gesture. “Fine, but you’ll need to know something first.” The cord spun outward from Garrick’s hand in a blur, spinning around Keiron’s wings with brutal efficiency. The weight of the heavy teeth spun the strand tight to bind him, flightless, as Garrick drew his sword and cut downward in a wicked blow that sent Keiron’s wings spinning away into the clouds below.
Paralyzed by pain and betrayal, Keiron stood swaying as Garrick stepped calmly forward, placing both hands on his brother and pushing him into a chaotic tumble from the ledge of House Windhook. Spatters of blood swept up and away in the swirling winds, the last sign of a boy who had been bound, and cut, and sent into the sky in less time than he had to register the sensation of being flightless and wounded.
Keiron’s stomach raged upward as glare and shadow coursed around him in a never-ending circle of dizzying light, and he began the long, cold fall through layers of sky and time that tore the scream from his throat even as it began.
From above, he heard Garrick’s last words, mocking and fat with poisonous joy. “Let us see if you can truly fly.”
Born in 1968, I discovered fishing shortly after walking,
a boon, considering I lived in South Florida. After a brief move to Kentucky,
my family trekked back to the Sunshine State. I had the good fortune to attend
high school in idyllic upstate New York, where I learned about a mythical
substance known as "Seasons". After two or three failed attempts at
college, I bought a bar. That was fun because I love beer, but, then, I eventually
met someone smarter than me (a common event), and, in this case, she married me
and convinced me to go back to school--which I did, with enthusiasm. I earned a
Master's Degree in History and rediscovered my love for writing. My novels
explore dark fantasy, immortality, and the nature of love as we know it. I live
near Nashville, Tennessee, with the aforementioned wife, son, and herd, and,
when I'm not writing, I teach history, grow wildly enthusiastic tomato plants,
and restore my 1967 Mustang.