**Notice** Due to transfering back from a godaddy hosted wordpress blog back to blogger, reviews published before june 2017 don`t all have a pretty layout with book cover and infos. Our apologies.
Jack Winter: psychic, mage, troublemaker. Marked by a goddess as her favorite and marked by a demon as his heir apparent, Jack isn't so much a warrior as a survivor, doing what he has to in the shadow-world of magical London to keep himself alive. He's spent time in mental wards, jail and Hell itself, but Jack has the uncanny ability to come out on top. It doesn't make for a life with many friends (at least friends who manage not to get themselves killed), but Jack's just fine with being solitary. That way, it's easier to see who's sneaking up behind you.
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Giants. Never seen one, meself. Heard the story—everyone hears that story. In the West of England, in the country of Cornwall, there was a bloke named Jack. Giant comes to town, munches on the locals. Jack figures out the giant is stone stupid, digs a pit, traps the giant and whacks his head off with a pickaxe. Not content with his big pair of swingin' brass ones and giant piles of treasure, Jack finds himself another giant, this one with a musty old castle, and hangs a couple more giants with his bare hands. Goes to Wales, nearly gets munched on by a Welsh giant pretending to be his friend. Moral of the story is, never trust a Welshman.
Got another one for you—in the North of England, in the city of Manchester, there was another bloke named Jack. Gets sick of his mum and her boyfriend smacking him around, and knows something's gotta be done. This Jack isn't particularly brave, but what he is is clever. Knows that Kevin, the boyfriend who leaves welts and bruises all over his body, blacks his eyes and smashes Jack's records, the only thing he truly loves when Jack steps wrong, goes down the pub every month when he gets his dole money. In spite of it all, Kevin still owes cold hard cash to a shark named Matthew Pike, a scary bastard if there ever was one. So one night, when Kevin's wandering home pissed from the local, Jack follows him. He's small, only twelve years old, and thin as two fence posts nailed together. Easy to blend in with the dark spots, since every other light in Moss End, the little Beruit of Manchester, is put out.
Jack follows Kevin. He's not big and not brave but he's got an idea, and he's nicked a bottle of bourbon, Kevin's favorite, to go with it. Stuck the bottle on the embankment wall near the canal, and doubled back to wait for him. He sees it, gleaming like amber in the sodium light. Approaches, unable to believe his good fortune. Some sod just leaving a whole pint on the canal wall? Just walking off and forgetting what easily costs a couple of quid, the good stuff, the smooth-going-down-stuff? It's his night, it is. His good luck, because he's the sort of bloke who thinks he deserves good luck, even as the universe teaches lesson after lesson to the contrary.
He doesn't see Jack, watching from the shadows.
Who's to say what happened to Kevin? Manchester is a shithole, and the bricks in the wall are loose and fragile as broken glass. Not going to support the weight of a fat, pissed bloke relieving himself into the canal forever. And there's Matthew Pike to consider, the kind of hard man who'd tumble Kevin into the canal, arse over teakettle, when he refused to pay up. Cut your losses, and teach a lesson to your other marks in one go. Good business, that, and Matthew Pike knows the value of good business. He's a snake, not a giant. The coppers know it too, and when they come 'round, it won't be to Hannah Winter's flat. Blessing Kevin is gone, really. Poor woman. Everyone in the council houses around them could hear the fights, the smack of fist on yielding flesh.
Jack creeps in his window at dawn, and goes to sleep. For the first time in months, it's quiet, no sound of Kevin's snoring. No sound of him waking up, grumbling through his hangover, and screaming at Jack's mum to make him a fry-up. No stumbling off to the day laborer camp to pretend to look for work, and coming home again to snort coke that's half dishwashing powder and pin Jack against a wall, sour breath in his face.
Jack, not brave but far too clever, knows it won't last. There are no giants in the wastes of Manchester, but plenty of monsters. They don't know Jack is out there, watching them with his eyes that see both the living and the dead.
But he knows them.
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Pete Caldecott did everything she could to save Jack from Hell, even reigning in the dark machinations of the Morrigan to help bring him home. Still, Black London has not welcomed Jack back with open arms. . . So when a friend in Los Angeles asks for help tracking a sorcerous serial killer, Pete and Jack decide a change of scenery couldn’t hurt. . .
But the shadow side of the City of Angels turns out to be more treacherous than they ever imagined. Together, Pete and Jack must navigate a landscape teeming with hostile magic-users— and fight an unknown enemy. When their investigation leads to a confrontation with the demon Belial, Jack learns that he wasn't the only thing to escape from Hell. Now it’s up to him and Pete to track and eliminate an evil older than the Black itself—before it turns L.A. into Hell on Earth. And destroys life as they know it back at home…
Caitlin Kittredge is the author of four Black London novels featuring Jack Winter: Street Magic, Demon Bound, Bone Gods, Devil's Business and is writing the forthcoming fifth book in the series Soul Trade, scheduled for Spring 2012. She also writes steampunk novels for young adults. You can follow Caitlin on Twitter under @caitkitt and find out more about her, her questionable sanity and love of pie, unicorns and Batman at www.caitlinkittredge.com.
They'll turn me in thy arms, lady, An adder and a snake; But hold me fast, let me na gae, To be your warldly mate.
All the old stories start off with that stupid phrase: once upon a time. That’s when you know it’s not real. It’s only make-believe. Right? Only, sometimes, make-believe is a substitute for reality. Make-believe is another word for metaphor, for a life-lesson; something that has to be taught in parables and fairy tales, in fables of disappointed foxes, ridiculous rabbits or reluctant heroes.
I’d only been in Rio Seco a few months, a small wee scared child rescued from Faery, when my Aunt Jane began to tell me stories at bedtime. At first, I thought that like the bards Below, she was telling history tales. After all, my mother’s people have been the subject of many a folk tale--some true, some not so much true as bastardizations of half-glimpsed lives written by bards with too heavy a hand on the spirits.
It took several watchings of various Disney films to realize that those particular movies weren’t historical events. There wasn’t actually a hidden princess living with seven wee men--or if there were, she was keeping damned quiet about her non-traditional living arrangements. No one was going to enchant a pumpkin and give me glass slippers and whisk me off to a ball. Totally fine with me. All that girly stuff was definitely for someone else. Not for Keira Kelly. My idea of dress up is adding a nice jacket over my blue jeans and T-shirt.
After realizing this, I began to relax. I didn’t need to learn the tales. They weren’t lessons. I could just cuddle up to my aunt and let her voice wash over me, not paying attention to details, not caring so much about the content of the stories as the feeling of family, of belonging.
I should have listened. In fact, not only should I have paid attention, I should have taken notes, branded the knowledge on my freaking forehead. Sure, I was only a kid. How the heck was I to know that one day I’d need to know? I don’t blame Aunt Jane--she’d had no idea, either.
How could I have expected to fall in love with someone I’d thought to be human, but is actually vampire and other things, as well? Not only that, but because of who he is, who I am and our respective families, I ended up in the middle of a tale worthy of the old bards. Another variation on one of the oldest ballads, to be precise.
Tam Lin, anyone? You know the old Scottish story, right? Tam Lin is a hero/elf knight/lover who ends up captured by the Queen of Faery and is rescued by young Janet (who is pregnant with his child). Tam Lin is to be part of the seven-year teind (tithe) to Hell and the only way Janet can save him is to hang on tight while the faeries attempt to make her drop him by turning him into all manner of horrid beasts. Of course, in the end, Janet prevails and they live happily ever after. Moral of the story? Don’t fuck with Faery.
Yeah, right. Messing about with Faery is now part and parcel of my life. I thought I’d made my own escape thanks to my father pulling me out Below when I was seven. Only, not so much. Turns out, my ties to Faery and the Sidhe were far from cut--only stretched a bit.
The only person who could and has helped me through dealing with the ever fickle Faery? Adam Walker.
I first met Adam during my early days in London. I honestly thought he was human, and therefore utterly off limits for me despite the overwhelming attraction. Sure, I could’ve just jumped his bones and not worried about it, but after my then recent experience with Carlton (ex-boyfriend and absolutely human), I’d forsworn anyone but people like me: supernatural, powerful and nigh 0n immortal.
Discovery of Adam’s vampire nature made some aspects of my life easier, yet, complicated others after I found out I was the heir to the Kelly clan. As heir, one of my duties (though I hoped far in the future) was to pass on my genes. Hard to do that with an undead lover. Vampires aren’t exactly potent. (Though, don’t get me wrong, there is nothing at all amiss with Adam’s performance!)
Just as I was getting comfortable with him, another revelation. Not only is Adam vampire, but he’s full-blooded Unseelie Sidhe and joy of joys, half-brother to the clan lover I’d run away from. Oh yeah, and the kicker? Adam’s heir to the Unseelie throne. I might be half-Sidhe, but my claim to the Seelie court (historic rivals to Adam’s line) is distant and through my estranged mother, cousin to the queen.
I have to admit, when I found this out, I really had to think? Did I want to continue to hang on? To embrace this relationship? Like Tam Lin, Adam’s nature kept changing--at least, to my eyes. He got more dangerous as time went on. Could I handle that? Could I fully embrace everything he was--everything that frightened me? Vampire, Sidhe, royalty...I could handle the first but the other two were my own personal monsters. My own things-that-go-bump and hide out in dark corners. Leap of faith, anyone? I did it. Somehow, I managed to shake off my trepidation, said goodbye to the fear and held on tight. I can’t deny this past year’s been tough. And unlike Janet and Tam Lin, I don’t think the changes affecting our lives are over. Not even close. But it’s all worth it...I think.
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All’s fair in blood and war. . . .
Talk about wedding crashers from hell. Keira Kelly and her sexy vampire king Adam are about to tie the proverbial knot—sort of—when an uninvited blood relative shows up to cast a long dark shadow over the happy occasion. Adam’s brother Gideon comes bearing the one-size-fits-all gift of bad news: an ancient, convoluted Challenge thrown down upon the entire Kelly clan. It seems the dreaded forces of the fae have declared war on Keira’s family, and at stake is the land that is rightfully theirs. But while the Kellys gather their troops in a historic San Antonio hotel to strategize, there’s mayhem back in Rio Seco. The old cemetery is vandalized, fires break out everywhere, and—worst of all—the Kelly clan matriarch and leader, Keira’s great-great-grandmother Minerva, goes missing. Should Keira risk breaking the Challenge rules by returning to her beloved home, or should she continue the waiting game that seems the only other option? With everything she loves, maybe even her life, on the line, she has only one chance to get the answer right.
Sometime before the Revolution, Maria Lima was born in Matanzas, Cuba, to a family of voracious readers and would-be writers. After her family emigrated to the United States, Maria discovered the magic of books. She started writing her own stories and has been at it ever since. Her writing turned corporate as she used her journalism degree and cranked out marketing copy, feature stories and book reviews. The fiction muse kept calling and in the spring of 2005, was finally fed as Maria’s first published short story, “The Butler Didn’t Do It” was published in Chesapeake Crimes I and garnered an Agatha Award nomination for Best Short Story. Maria spends most of her days working as a Senior Web Project Manager in the DC area. Her evenings and weekends are spent writing.
My name is Gwen Frost, and I go to Mythos Academy — a school of myths, magic and warrior whiz kids, where even the lowliest geek knows how to chop off somebody's head with a sword and Logan Quinn, the hottest Spartan guy in school, also happens to be the deadliest.
But lately, things have been weird, even for Mythos. First, mean girl Jasmine Ashton was murdered in the Library of Antiquities. Then, someone stole the Bowl of Tears, a magical artifact that can be used to bring about the second Chaos War. You know, death, destruction and lots of other bad, bad things. Freaky stuff like this goes on all the time at Mythos, but I'm determined to find out who killed Jasmine and why—especially since I should have been the one who died. . .
As a huge fan of Jennifer Estep's Elemental Assassin series, I was very excited to get my hands on Touch of Frost, the first book in her new YA series. It's also an urban fantasy novel, but with a very different mythology (no pun intended). In the Mythos Academy world, students are descended from gods, goddesses, and creatures and characters of various world mythologies, as well as the occasional not-100%-mythological but powerful group, like the Spartans or the Amazons. It's a great backdrop for Gwen Frost's story and I can't wait to see what Jennifer Estep comes up with next, if Touch of Frost is any indication.
I can't lie. I went into Touch of Frost with high expectations. Jennifer Estep is one of my favourite authors and I love how she crafts a story, tortures her characters, and takes the story in directions I don't always expect. I was worried that her writing wouldn't wow me as much in a YA world, mostly because I thought a lot of the grittiness she imparts to her characters and settings would be lost. Thankfully it's not. While things might not be quite as grim at Mythos Academy, the author has created a compelling world filled with layered characters and events.
Character-wise, I thought everyone was well written. In particular, I love Gwen, Daphne, Logan and Grandma Frost. We get a lot of insight into what makes Gwen tick thanks to the first person narrative but we've only seen the tip of the proverbial iceberg with Logan and Grandma Frost, if I'm not mistaken. I can't wait to learn more about them! And Daphne is a pretty interesting chick. I don't want to write too much about what makes her so interesting since I don't want to give stuff away but she was one of the people I really liked in the novel. Lots of personality and style. :)
The plot in Touch of Frost is also fantastic. It's well paced and has unexpected events, plus some nice foreshadowing that made me devour the novel (and left me desperate for Kiss of Frost, which comes out in December). While there were a couple clues that let me figure out where things were going before Gwen got there, it in no way detracted from my enjoyment of the book. There are also some great romantic storylines that had all the longing, dreaming, and angst you can hope for and then some. I look forward to seeing where things go from here, in terms of romance and Gwen's future at the Academy.
Adam Bruno, the hero in THE LOST, is the heir to a lost race with the ability to gather energy and use it for a host of different powers. Shapeshifting, healing or killing with just a touch are just some of things of which Adam is capable. There is only one problem: Adam is unaware of the extent of his powers and the history of his people since he was abducted nearly twenty years earlier during a battle in the dessert. Adam has little recollection of that conflict or his real family and is only just beginning to explore his powers when he meets a unique woman. Bobbie Carrera is an injured Marine veteran who is home from war. The last thing she wants is to face combat once again, but her involvement with Adam may bring just that-more war and death. THE LOST is an action-packed ride as Adam and Bobbie discover love and fight for their existence.
This is my take on what would happen if Adam and Bobbie were thrust into the Sleeping Beauty fairy tale.
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Her urgent grip communicated fear and determination.
He held on tight to the woman’s hand, his mother’s hand, as they raced through the night, chased by one explosion after another that tore up the ground behind them.
A shot suddenly landed a few feet before them. He stumbled over the raw gouge torn into the hard-packed desert surface from the blast and fell, breaking her hold on him.
She turned to him and he popped up onto his feet, but then suddenly found himself flying through the air, as if shoved along by an unseen hand.
He hit a wall a few feet away. So hard the adobe caved beneath his back and the impact stole the breath from his lungs.
Dark circles of light danced before his eyes. He fought them back, searching for his mother. She was moving toward him, but then the world exploded into a shock of light, blinding him and driving the last remnants of consciousness from his mind.
He woke slowly, his brain fuzzy and filled with static as if he was too close to a high voltage line. Shaking his head, he drove away the noise and rose and rose and rose.
Glancing down, he realized he was no longer that lost little boy. He was . . . Adam.
Adam, he repeated and glanced around at the beachscape which was both familiar and yet different. To his left the waves washed gently against the shore, but to his right rose up a jagged tumble of rocks and boulders along a steep slope. A slope that rose ever upward toward a beautifully constructed shingle-clad home in the distance.
Something called to him about the homey structure. Something which had him trying to scramble up the rocks, but no matter how far he climbed, the house continued to stay out of reach. With only a short tumble down the incline, he was on the wet sands of the shore once more, but then the screech of a seagull filtered into his brain.
“Touch me. Touch me,” came the bird’s raucous cry in his brain as it strutted just a few feet away from him, eyeing him slyly.
Adam raised his hands and suddenly a vortex of light appeared between his two outstretched palms. The vortex grew, piercing the air to snare the bird and drag it to him. Within seconds of the seagull landing in his hands, a weird sensation sprouted all around him.
Pain erupted across his body as once smooth skin broke apart as feathers poked out of his skin. In the space of a breath, a tightening gripped his core as bones popped and muscles rearranged themselves while his body condensed in volume to the bird’s smaller size.
The pain was such that Adam released his hold on the seagull which fell away from him as Adam scrambled back on unsteady and scrawny bird legs. He tossed out his arms to steady himself and a breeze from the ocean slipped beneath his outstretched wings and lifted him upward.
Freedom such as he had never known gripped him as he rode the current up over the steep hillside of slippery rocks that had challenged him before. Ever higher he rose, swooping close to the rough edges of the boulders until he landed on the wrap-around porch of the building he had spied earlier.
At the front door a large man slumped in a chair, sound asleep. A warrior for sure judging from his size and the scars marring the skin along his neck and the side of his jaw. Not that he was providing much security as he slumbered on the front porch of the home.
Adam paused and pecked at the man’s shoe with his beak, but the guard did not stir.
With a confused shake of his head, Adam sensed another transformation coming over him as deep in his center, a lightness began and spread out over his body. That weightlessness evaporated quickly, soon replaced by agony once more as the feathers retracted and his form rearranged itself back to that of a normal man.
Breathing heavily and slightly lightheaded from the energy it had taken to make the changes, Adam laid a hand on one of the columns on the porch. He raised his face to the sun and its kiss warmed his skin and inched into his core. The sun’s power restored some of the energy he had expended to shapeshift.
Recharged, he entered the home only to find yet more people asleep inside a parlor. At least half a dozen or more including an older couple who seemed familiar. He wanted to touch them, but something held him back and pulled him deeper into the house as if there was a greater calling waiting for him.
He continued onward, tiptoeing past other sleeping warriors until he reached the open door to a bedroom.
Inside a beautiful caramel-haired woman slept peacefully in a white shift that draped against the lush curves of her body as she lay on the bed. So beautiful, he thought as desire stirred in him. As he neared, he realized that she was a warrior as well. The sleeveless garment revealed an assortment of scars that marred one of her arms. A cane leaned against the side of the bed as if she would need it if she rose, but like all the others, she was sound asleep.
But unlike all the people he had bypassed, he could not resist touching this woman. He had to feel the smoothness of her skin beneath his hand. Discover for himself if it was as soft as it seemed.
He passed the back of his hand along the satiny skin of her cheek and as he did so, the chill of her body and the stillness of her form registered.
Was she even breathing? he wondered and stroked her cheek again. In slow degrees the chill dissipated with each pass of his hand. With a stronger caress, glimmers of silver-blue light shimmered where skin met skin, wrapping themselves around his hand and dancing along her flesh, bringing a flush of peachy color.
He passed his hand along her skin tenderly and the warmth and light grew with his actions. Within him the buzz of a current came as energy slipped from him and into her, increasing the swirl of lights and silver-blue tendrils passing between them.
With that kiss of power, a soft sigh escaped her. Her eyelids fluttered open, unfocused at first until with a slight shift of her head, her whiskey-colored gaze settled on him.
“Adam,” she said, the silken tones of her voice stirring alive desire and recognition as image after image flashed before his eyes, awakening memories of the moments they had shared in another life. He breathed her name as if in prayer. “Bobbie.”
A sexy smile slipped across her lips. “You came for me.”
“I will always come for you,” he said, now understanding that his love for her was what had driven him up that hillside. Love was what had claimed him from the moment he had first laid eyes on her lying almost deathlike on the bed.
He stroked his hand down the center of her body and everywhere he touched, her body came alive with flares of light and heat. Beneath the shift he noted the tight peaks of her nipples and he so wanted to touch them. Taste their sweetness, but she took hold of his hand, her grip strong.
“Later, my love. First there are some you must meet,” she said and with his help, she rose from the bed, her gait slightly uncertain as he had expected from the cane.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and tucked her close to him, offering support as they walked back past the warriors guarding her room and to the older couple asleep in the parlor.
Adam glanced at Bobbie, his gaze questioning.
“They are your parents, Adam. You’re no longer alone,” she said and urged his hand forward to touch the sleeping couple.
As Adam stroked his hand across the woman’s face, the buzz of power came again and a pale blue aura came to life beneath his hand. Then her eyelids fluttered open. When she focused on him, he found himself staring at emerald eyes that were so similar to his own.
The woman moved her hand then and gripped that of the man asleep beside her. From inside him Adam experienced the pull of energy flowing between them, vibrating with a sympathetic hum. As the man roused and glanced from his wife and then to Adam, it was like staring at an older version of himself.
Bobbie gripped his hand tightly and leaned into him, her touch loving and supportive. Within him, the energy grew, filling the emptiness within him. He knew the truth of it then.
He was finally home. No longer lost.
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I hope you enjoyed this variation on the fairy tale. In my paranormal romance THE LOST, the first book in the exciting new SIN HUNTERS series, it takes some time and risk for Adam to finally discover his true origins as well as to find love and peace beside Bobbie. If you’d like to find out more about THE LOST, please visit my website at www.caridad.com.
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Adam Bruno is no ordinary millionaire. The heir to an ancient race possessing a dark, powerful magic, he can shapeshift and create energy. His gifts make him a living weapon and have forced him to live in seclusion. But now an inhuman force hunts down Adam-just when he finds someone who makes him feel more human than he ever imagined possible . . .
Home from combat in Iraq, Bobbie Carerra wants only peace, yet soon joins Adam in a terrifying battle against paranormal enemies who hide in plain sight. She's drawn to his strength of mind and body; he's attracted to her courage and intoxicating energy. Their scorching passion can either transport them to the heights of ecstasy or-if Adam's powers rage out of control-destroy them. But when an invisible brotherhood tightens its nets and someone Adam trusts betrays him, only a heartrending decision can save them.
Caridad Piñeiro® is a multi-published and award-winning author whose love of the written word developed when her fifth grade teacher assigned a project – to write a book that would be placed in a class lending library. She has been hooked on writing ever since.
Jana’s schedule was too busy to allow her to write a fable for us, but she still wanted to participate by offering a little something to you guys, in honor of her upcoming release, Soul Thief!
Demon Trapper Riley Blackthorne
just needs a chance to prove herself—
and that’s exactly what Lucifer is counting on…
It’s the year 2018, and with human society seriously disrupted by the economic upheavals of the previous decade, Lucifer has increased the number of demons in all major cities. Atlanta is no exception. Fortunately, humans are protected by Demon Trappers, who work to keep homes and streets safe from the things that go bump in the night. Seventeen-year-old Riley, only daughter of legendary Demon Trapper Paul Blackthorne, has always dreamed of following in her father’s footsteps. When she’s not keeping up with her homework or trying to manage her growing attraction to fellow Trapper apprentice, Simon, Riley’s out saving citizens from Grade One Hellspawn. Business as usual, really, for a demon-trapping teen. When a Grade Five Geo-Fiend crashes Riley’s routine assignment at a library, jeopardizing her life and her chosen livelihood, she realizes that she’s caught in the middle of a battle between Heaven and Hell.
Riley Blackthorne is beginning to learn that there are worse things than death by demon. And love is just one of them…
Seventeen-year-old Riley has about had it up to here. After the devastating battle at the Tabernacle, trappers are dead and injured, her boyfriend Simon is gravely injured, and now her beloved late father’s been illegally poached from his grave by a very powerful necromancer. As if that’s not enough, there's Ori, one sizzling hot freelance demon hunter who’s made himself Riley’s unofficial body guard, and Beck, a super over-protective “friend” who acts more like a grouchy granddad. With all the hassles, Riley’s almost ready to leave Atlanta altogether.
But as Atlanta’s demon count increases, the Vatican finally sends its own Demon Hunters to take care of the city’s “little” problem, and pandemonium breaks loose. Only Riley knows that she might be the center of Hell’s attention: an extremely powerful Grade 5 demon is stalking her, and her luck can't last forever…
THIS STORY TAKES PLACE BEFORE THE EVENTS OF WONDROUS STRANGE, featuring the character of Kelley Winslow’s Faerie-fabulous roommate, Tyffanwy of the Mere (Tyff Myers as she is known, incognito, in the mortal realm)
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Leaning on the decorative stone railing of Central Park’s famous Bow Bridge, Tyff Meyers gazed at her reflection in the touch-screen of her brand spankin’ new shiny-shiny phone and smiled contentedly. Dang if she wasn’t still fabulous. Even after almost two-thousand years spent exiled in this crummy mortal realm. Mesmerized by her own perfect features, she wasn’t expecting to get elbowed by a handsome young man, even considering the bridge was quite crowded with evening strollers. When her shiny-shiny new phone slipped from her slender fingers, first she gasped… and then she swore like a Teamster.
The young man stopped, apologized profusely—and then, oddly enough, offered to retrieve the device for her… even though it had sunk like a stone into the murky depth of the Lake.
“Oh, sure,” Tyff answered caustically, one perfect eyebrow raised. “Go ahead. I dare you. Take the plunge.”
He smiled and his eyes glistened strangely in the fading light of evening, with a sort of inky green iridescence. Then he turned and put one foot up on the railing.
“Hold the phone!” Tyff winced at her unintended wordplay, wishing that she’d done just exactly that. Bloody thing had cost her a fortune with its stupid, shiny, sparkle-pretty Swarovski crystal-encrusted case… “I mean—hang on a minute—I know Waterfolk when I see them,” she said, narrowing her gaze.
“I’m not surprised, Lady of the Mere,” he nodded his head slightly. “You are wise as you are beautiful. But I am not Faerie, as you are.”
Tyff took a step back. She used to be known—among those in the know—as Tyffanwy of the Mere. But that was a loooong time ago. Now she just went by Tyff Meyers.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“I’ll tell you when I return your lost bauble.”
“For what price?”
“A kiss.”
Tyff thought about it. He hadn’t attached any strings—as Faerie are wont to do—and he was pretty cute. She shrugged. “Okay.”
In a flash, he was over the railing. In two flashes, he was back, carrying her phone in his mouth. He hopped nimbly back up onto the bridge, clothing dry as a bone. He handed back her expensive bit of technology and, at a glance, she saw that it was still working. The guy was obviously enchanted. She put two and two together…
“You’re the guy, right?” She said. “Frog Prince?”
He bowed slightly.
“Man. You’ve been around for…”
“A long time.” He shrugged ruefully. “The whole enchantment thing? Apparently immortality is an unadvertised side-effect.”
“Oh… I’m sorry.” Tyff understood suddenly. She knew what would probably happen if she kissed him. He would turn back into his previous amphibious state. That’s the way kisses worked in Fairy Tales. “You have a broken heart don’t you? You had to watch your mortal princess grow old and die, didn’t you?” she asked.
He snorted in amusement. “Nope. But the guy she ditched me for and ran off with two weeks after I shelled out big-time on the wedding probably did. Or maybe it was the guy after him. Who knows?”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah.” He nodded at the lake. “Out there,” he said, “I’m a prince among frogs. Here? I’m just another schmuck stock broker. And as a frog… lemme tell you, I have great legs.”
Tyff tried hard not to think about the last meal she’d had in a French restaurant. “Won’t you miss it out here in the world?” she asked.
“If I do,” he grinned and tapped her phone. “I’ll give you a call. I’ve got your number.”
Tyff smiled and leaned in to gave him a warm, genuine kiss on the lips. Next thing she knew there was a large, handsomely-striped frog sitting on the bridge railing. He winked a golden, multi-lidded eye and disappeared over the side.
Every couple of months after that, Tyff would go to the movies with her extra-large Prada purse slung over her shoulder. When the lights would go down, she’d open up the purse, and let her froggy date sit in the drink holder, snatching popcorn bits from the bag with a long, sticky tongue slurping ribbity slurps—from his own straw.
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Thanks to Penguin Canada I have 5 copies of Once Every Never to offer you!
Clarinet Reid is a pretty typical teenager. On the surface. She’s smart, but a bit of slacker; outgoing, but just a little insecure; not exactly a mischief-maker… but trouble tends to find her wherever she goes. Also? She unwittingly carries a centuries-old Druid Blood Curse running through her veins.
Now, with a single thoughtless act, what started off as the Summer Vacation in Dullsville suddenly spirals into a deadly race to find a stolen artifact, avert an explosive catastrophe, save a Celtic warrior princess, right a dreadful wrong that happened centuries before Clare was even born, and if there’s still time—literally—maybe even get a date. This is the kind of adventure that happens to a girl once every… never.
Lesley is a writer and actor living in Toronto, Canada. Captivated at a young age by stories of mythology and folk lore, past civilizations, and legendary heroes, she developed into a full-fledged Celtic Mythology Geek, steeped in stories of the Otherworld, Faeries and King Arthur. Lesley went on to earn a Master’s Degree in English from the University of Toronto specializing in Shakespeare and Arthurian literature.
Pete Caldecott did everything she could to save Jack from Hell, even reigning in the dark machinations of the Morrigan to help bring him home. Still, Black London has not welcomed Jack back with open arms. . . So when a friend in Los Angeles asks for help tracking a sorcerous serial killer, Pete and Jack decide a change of scenery couldn’t hurt. . .
Caitlin Kittredge is the author of four Black London novels featuring Jack Winter: Street Magic, Demon Bound, Bone Gods, Devil's Business and is writing the forthcoming fifth book in the series Soul Trade, scheduled for Spring 2012. She also writes steampunk novels for young adults. You can follow Caitlin on Twitter under @caitkitt and find out more about her, her questionable sanity and love of pie, unicorns and Batman at www.caitlinkittredge.com. 
All’s fair in blood and war. . . .
Sometime before the Revolution, Maria Lima was born in Matanzas, Cuba, to a family of voracious readers and would-be writers. After her family emigrated to the United States, Maria discovered the magic of books. She started writing her own stories and has been at it ever since. Her writing turned corporate as she used her journalism degree and cranked out marketing copy, feature stories and book reviews. The fiction muse kept calling and in the spring of 2005, was finally fed as Maria’s first published short story, “The Butler Didn’t Do It” was published in Chesapeake Crimes I and garnered an Agatha Award nomination for Best Short Story. Maria spends most of her days working as a Senior Web Project Manager in the DC area. Her evenings and weekends are spent writing.
Touch of Frost by Jennifer Estep
He hit a wall a few feet away. So hard the adobe caved beneath his back and the impact stole the breath from his lungs.
Inside a beautiful caramel-haired woman slept peacefully in a white shift that draped against the lush curves of her body as she lay on the bed. So beautiful, he thought as desire stirred in him. As he neared, he realized that she was a warrior as well. The sleeveless garment revealed an assortment of scars that marred one of her arms. A cane leaned against the side of the bed as if she would need it if she rose, but like all the others, she was sound asleep.
iny-shiny phone and smiled contentedly. Dang if she wasn’t still fabulous. Even after almost two-thousand years spent exiled in this crummy mortal realm. Mesmerized by her own perfect features, she wasn’t expecting to get elbowed by a handsome young man, even considering the bridge was quite crowded with evening strollers. When her shiny-shiny new phone slipped from her slender fingers, first she gasped… and then she swore like a Teamster. 
