RELEASE DAY: Ariella Moon "Spell for Sophia"

 

Blurb:

Sophia Perez-Hidalgo’s survival depends upon her mastering magic and the supernatural before her lawless parents and their vengeful boss catch up to her. How far must she flee to escape them forever? Sophia runs until she’s out of stolen money, then…Fate delivers her into the arms of Louisiana teen Shi-loh Breaux Martine, and his grand-mère, a reclusive voodoo priestess living deep in the bayou.

 

Breaux knows Sophia is trouble — but he’ll travel through time, battle zombies, and risk his bright future to protect her. While Ainslie, best friend extraordinaire, will jeopardize her sanity to find and aid Sophia. When friendship, magic, and love are not enough, Sophia will have to save herself. But first, she must believe she’s worth saving.

 

 

Author:

Ariella Moon is the author of the Teen Wytche Saga, a sweet Young Adult paranormal series. Ariella writes about magic, friendship, high school, love and time travel, in Spell Check, Spell Struck, Spell Fire, and Spell For Sophia from Astraea Press.

Ariella spent her childhood searching for a magical wardrobe that would transport her to Narnia. Extreme math anxiety, and taller students who mistook her for a leaning post, marred her youth. Despite these horrors, she graduated summa cum laude from the University of California at Davis. Ariella is a Reiki Master, author, and shaman. She lives a nearly normal life with her extraordinary daughter, two shamelessly spoiled dogs, and an enormous dragon.

 

 

 

Now available on
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Excerpt:

Prologue

Two-and-a-half years ago

I'd thought escaping would uncoil the fear and worry squeezing my heart. I figured I'd stop looking over my shoulder once I crossed the California state line, or Arizona's, or New Mexico's, or the border between Texas and Louisiana. But I hadn't. Terror and hunger dogged me. I reeked of desperation. My head throbbed from all the bad decisions I had made since I'd found my bio-parents.

I could still pull out of this; save Christmas. Call Ainslie, the voice inside my head urged. I bet he'll loan you his phone. My gaze zeroed in on the leader of a ragtag group playing basketball on the schoolyard. His short black curls had been coaxed away from his face, revealing warm nutmeg-colored skin and kind, dark eyes. Fifteen years old? I wondered.

He handed the basketball to a young white girl, then glanced my way. His head-to-toe sweep took in my gaunt face, long inky hair, grungy jacket and jeans, scuffed ankle boots, and the school backpack at my feet. He glanced protectively at the little kids who shouted at the girl to pass the ball. Then his gaze migrated back to me. His mouth twisted to one side. I could hear the word tolling inside his head. Trouble.

I hunkered against the side of the school building and tugged my gray knit cap low over my forehead.

"Who's she?" A little kid with Christmas bows stuck on her wooly ponytails wrapped herself around the teen's leg. Her fearful stare gutted me. I'm pretty sure I had worn the same expression the first time I'd entered foster care.

Kick it. I pushed away from the wall. My vision blurred. My hollow stomach whirled and the schoolyard spun like a carousel ride. I braced myself against the cool bricks until the dizziness passed. Pull it together. It will be dark soon. I needed to find a restaurant or fast food joint — any place open on Christmas where I could dumpster dive for food scraps.

I lowered my eyelids and tried to picture the route I had walked from the train station. I hadn't planned on wandering through a lush Louisiana neighborhood. The children's shouts and laughter had lured me to the brick school and its asphalt playground. School had been my favorite place, before…

My thoughts torpedoed back to the barren southern California desert. Some developer had gone bust, and all that remained of his planned subdivision was a paved road dead-ending in sand. "Hide in plain sight," Mamá had said as Papá parked their pink-and-white vintage camper. The vehicle stood out among the sagebrush and creosote like a slash of bubblegum paint.

Hide what? I had wondered. I soon had my answer: a methamphetamine lab.

I rubbed my arms, creating an X over my chest. Embarrassment heated my cheeks. How stupid and naïve I had been. My parents hadn't gone legit. They were trying to evade the local cops and the Drug Enforcement Agency. They had planned to flee northern California without phoning my caseworker or me. If I had waited just one more day to contact them…

"See, the cops would be looking for a couple, not a family," I later overheard Papá boast to his boss.

"Weren't you worried they'd issue an Amber Alert?" one of the boss's henchmen asked, casting a sideways look at me.

"For a foster teen?" Papá scoffed. "They run away all the time."

My heart accelerated. Heat flooded my body. Gasoline fumes seared my nose and throat as if I still held the peanut butter jar full of siphoned petrol.

I forced my eyes open. The skin grafts on my throat and arm tightened like a noose and tourniquet. I managed a shaky step. The basketball thudding against the pavement stilled.

"You okay?" the boy called out.

My brain hunted for an answer and came up empty. When did I eat last?

Footsteps, rapid and rhythmic, raced toward me, growing louder with each footfall. My stomach whooshed. My eyes rolled back inside my head. The schoolyard went black and blinding starbursts flashed before my unseeing eyes. My legs floated away and I freefell backward.

The earthy scent of musk cologne and male sweat jolted me awake. Minutes must have passed. Sinewy arms carried me against a damp, solid chest.

"She's waking up," the white girl reported.

"Good." The boy's voice enveloped me like a fleece-lined blanket. "Everyone hold hands. We're going to cross after this truck."

My eyelids refused to open. I registered the rattle of a slow-moving pickup as it drove past. The boy's arms tensed. He tightened his hold on me, then stepped down off a curb.

"I can walk," I mumbled, pretty sure I felt like dead weight in his arms.

The boy chuckled. "Sure you can." He crossed the street without breaking stride, tensing again before he stepped up on the far curb. His heart drummed steadily against my ear. My eyes wedged open a slit.

"I'll fetch Miss Wanda," the younger of the two white girls said. She had the same heart-shaped face and blond braids as the older girl. She raced up the steps of a two-story house with pearl-colored siding. "Miss Wanda!" she shouted. Her sister followed, stooped beneath the weight of my backpack. She held two small children by the hand — Christmas Bow Girl and a boy who appeared to be about four.

New Release: The Test of Time

THE TEST OF TIME

by Nicole Zoltack

All that stands between Katia and finding the love of her life is the test of time.

Katia jumps at the chance to go to England with her best friend after Rose ditches her deadbeat boyfriend. While walking through the market, she spies a large mansion and recognizes the guy out front as her high school friend Tony. Just as they start to reconnect, Katia passes through times and lands in the arms of Lord Landon, who looks like Tony but certainly doesn’t act like him.

Soon, Katia learns that this 1815 is different from the one in history books. Trapped in a parallel world, Katia struggles to not fall for Landon but his charm proves too much for her. Just when she is about to confess her love for him, Katia travels through time yet again.

The course of love never did run smooth and if Katia can’t figure out and master the test of time, she’ll never see or friends again, or worse, never be reunited with Landon.

**** 

About the Author:

Nicole Zoltack loves to write in many genres, especially romance, whether fantasy, paranormal, or regency. When she’s not writing about knights, superheroes, or zombies, she loves to spend time with her loving husband and three energetic young boys. She enjoys riding horses (pretending they’re unicorns, of course!) and going to the PA Renaissance Faire, dressed in garb. She’ll also read anything she can get her hands on. Her current favorite TV show is The Walking Dead. To learn more about Nicole and her writing, visit http://NicoleZoltack.blogspot.com.

Available for purchase at:

Amazon US     Amazon UK     Smashwords     Kobo     Barnes & Noble     iTunes

Excerpt:

Katia Willgrave stared at the vendor's products. A blue silk scarf drew her attention, but the price the British salesman asked for was more than she could afford. Not if she wanted to be able to buy dinner tonight.

She glanced up. Most of the rest of her travel group had already made their way down the street, but still she dawdled, enjoying the sights and the sounds. She and her best friend had settled on this trip after Rose ditched her jerk wad of a boyfriend. Originally, Rose and Derek had planned it together.

His loss, my gain. She breathed in the fresh air. Some moisture hung in the air, but she did not mind, having spent a good deal of her childhood in Seattle. Then her father's job relocated their family to the East Coast.

But she did not want to think about her father right now, think about her own losses.

Rose was haggling with another vendor, and Katia smiled. If anyone knew how to get their way, it was Rose. She flipped her blond hair over her shoulder, and Katia snickered. The vendor didn't stand a chance. The pink tips of Rose's hair caught the last streaming remnants of sunlight.

After catching Derek hooting around, Rose had dragged Katia to the beauty parlor. In solidarity, Katia had the last inch of her almost black hair dyed a midnight blue. Only when the light caught her hair just right was the blue visible. She had expected to hate the color and figured she'd have it cut off in a week, but it had lasted a month now, and she often thought about dying it all to match.

Wouldn't Bob die if I did? Her boss was a stickler for everything. The editor-in-chief of the biggest newspaper in Philadelphia, he was no-nonsense and expected the same from his employees. I'm just glad he gave me the time off.

Her feet had continued walking as her mind wandered, and she reached the edge of the street. The rest of the group headed to the east, following their guide like lost sheep.

Feeling impulse, Katia moved to the west. The land stretched out here, into soft hills, and she just wanted to see the sights over the ridge. She'd keep the tour group in sight.

She reached the crest. A tall, mansion stood in the distance, majestic and awe-inspiring. Before Katia could grab her camera, a hand touched her arm. Rose, wearing new huge dangling earrings, sported a wide grin. "You wanna get lost?"

"Why not?" Katia smiled back. She had never felt more relaxed since she had come. Between the stress of deadlines and the incompetent nature of her staff—Bob liked to hire those with less qualifications to save a few bucks—Katia needed this as much as Rose did, albeit for different reasons.

"Find a hot English guy first," Rose reasoned, her grin growing wider.

"Like that guy you were chatting up at the café at lunch?"

They fell into step together as they rejoined the tail edge of the group. "Precisely. He's taking me out to dinner tonight. Henry." She all but swooned.

"You and your rebounds." Katia shook her head.

"Hey!" Rose knocked her hip into Katia's. "Okay, well, Derek had been a rebound. Maybe a rebound of a rebound is different. I mean, it's not like I want to marry the guy. Just hear him talk. Gotta love an accent."

Katia couldn't disagree there.

"Besides, you haven't gone out in forever yourself."

"I've gone out," Katia protested.

"I don't mean with me." Rose pursed her full, pink-painted lips. She had no problem getting guys to ask for her number or to buy her drinks. Katia, on the other hand, didn't. Work was all she had time for. Especially after…

Not now.

"Don't worry. I promise I won't eat dinner by myself since you're ditching me."

Rose's eyes took on a faraway look. "Henry… Remind me to ask him if he has a brother."

Katia laughed. Their tour guide shot them a "hurry up" look but they meandered, taking their time. What else was the point of a vacation? Their first time in Europe. They definitely wanted to take it all in.

Maybe after dinner, she could come back and snap a picture of that mansion. Ever since she was a little girl, she had always imagined she'd live in a place like that. Strange how similar the mansion resembled her dream one.

****

By the time dinner rolled around, and Rose had left for her date, looking like a model in a slick red dress and cute wedge sandals, Katia opted for a stroll by her lonesome. Their tour guide had repeated to them all endlessly not to stray from the group, but it would not be late for hours, and besides, this was England. Everyone spoke English. It wasn't as if she was in Germany or Spain. She'd be fine.

Her own sandals soon dug into her toes, and Katia untied them and carried them over her shoulder. Down into market she went and beyond, back to the same hill as before. The mansion crept into view like a castle floating above a mist. A fog had rolled in, making the mansion seem more dreamlike than before. With turrets and towers on either end, numerous windows, arches and flags, the building seemed too perfect to be real.

Mesmerized by its beauty, almost unaware of what she was doing, Katia moved toward the mansion. Despite the distance between them, she drew nearer far quicker than she would have thought. Rose bushes lined the paved walkway leading up to the front door, the grass trimmed short and impossibly green.

One perfect rose caught her gaze, and she bent down to sniff it. The floral scent filled her nose, and she closed her eyes, drinking it in.

"Can I help you?"

Broken from whatever trace had called her here, Katia jerked up and backward until she bumped into the twin bush on the other side of the walkway. A thorn snagged her skin. Not completely perfect after all.

"I…" She took in the man before her, his bare chest and heaving muscles. A bead of sweat eased down the ripples of his abs, and she forced her gaze up to his face. "Tony, is that you?"

Nearly impossible to recognize the scrawny, nerdy boy from high school as the man standing in front of her. A lot had happened since they graduated in six years.

"In the flesh." He glanced down at his bare chest, and a flush colored his cheeks. "What are you doing here, Katia?"

Knowing she couldn't return his question although she was dying to know why he was here—perhaps he works here—Katia gestured to the mansion. Up close, mansion did not seem to fit how massive the house was. "I wanted a closer look," she explained lamely.

He chuckled and ran a cloth over his face before draping it over one huge shoulder. "Want a tour?"

"I would love one."

Tony Wilson moved toward the front door, but she hesitated. "I had assumed you wanted a tour of the interior." He cocked his head to the side, his eyebrows raising, disappearing within his bushy brown hair.

In high school, he'd always sported a crew cut. This style, wild and crazy, just begging to be fixed, suited him quite well. Ugh, I'm going to turn into Rose at this rate.

She cleared her throat and stared at his mud-coated sneakers.

"What is it?" He crossed his arms, his muscles flexing with the simple movement. "You have that look in your eye."

"What look?"

"The 'I'm dying to ask a question' look." His chuckle was as warm and inviting as it had been in high school, and she joined in, just like old times. She had never had this flutter in her chest back then, though. Each year, she had had a different crush, but she had never fallen for her good old friend Tony.

Unable to hold back any longer, Katia burst out, "What are you doing here? What is this place? What have you been up to? Why didn't you go to our high school reunion last year? You never kept in touch like you said you would."

Tony laughed again. "Poke a hole in the dam and a flood of questions pour forth. Should've known better. I'm here because this…" He held out his arms. "…is mine."

Katia lifted her gaze from him to the mansion to the rose bushes to the lawn and back to Tony. "All of it?"

He nodded. "My grandparents lived here for years. There was some kind of mix up with the deed for a while and then my parents died and somehow, yeah, Philamore Mansion is mine."

"Wait, your parents died?" Curse her and her reporter mind for wanting to know every detail. She crossed the distance between them and placed her hand on his arm. Wow, rock hard biceps. "I am so sorry."

A veiled look crossed his eyes for a moment before disappearing. "So once the deed was changed to be in my name, I moved here. Wasn't making any name for myself with my screenplays anyhow. Too tough a business. Instead, I've been fixing up the place and working here and there, doing what I can." He nodded to the left, where a hole was dug. "Gonna plant a tree there, for shade. Far enough to not block direct view of the mansion. I'll plant another over there." Tony pointed to the right. "I forget what question was next."

Her mouth turned dry. How she wanted to open up to him, to share with him her own misery so that he didn't have to feel so alone, but she couldn't bring herself too. The hurt in his eyes had been so great as it was. She would not risk adding to it. "Our reunion."

But the pain returned to his blue eyes. "Too busy," he said, his voice clipped and curt. "Next."

"Wasn't a question so I'll rephrase. Why didn't you keep in touch after we graduated?"

"It takes two to keep in touch," he pointed out.

True. Oh so true. Katia could have called or texted or emailed. She was just as much to blame as he was. A lump formed in her chest, and she failed to rub it away. "I'm here with my college roommate, Rose. She's into sports medicine. A real fitness nut. Thought about being a fitness model but she likes chocolate a little too much."

Tony nodded politely. "And you? World famous reporter yet?"

"Have you read any of my articles?"

He shook his head. "Can't say I have. Not any that weren't under the heading Mount Holly High."

"Then I'm not world famous yet. I am a reporter though."

"Good for you. Now, about that tour…"

At that moment, Katia's stomach grumbled. Heat rose to her face, and she crossed her arms over her stomach, praying he hadn't heard it. Her mother used to say her stomach could wake the dead.

And of course, Tony heard it. His grin erased her discomfort. "I'm hungry too. First stop, the kitchen."

"No, no, I don't mean to impose."

That laugh again. So relaxing, the antithesis of his anguish. She'd do anything to keep him happy. "You marched on to private property but no, you didn't mean to impose." His gaze traveled over her body, noting her summer dress, her bare feet, and windblown hair. A strand blew into her face, and he caught it. Another gust of wind blew it out of his hand. "Blue," he noted, his voice colored with surprise.

"You like?"

"It suits you. Now, before you stomach demands substance again…"

She scowled.

He held out his arm for her to take. Once she did, he led her toward the house. "Don't act like this is the first time I've heard it. Come."

They passed pillars on their way to the front door, which creaked upon opening. A few boards groaned beneath their feet as they walked inside. Katia gasped. They were standing in a ballroom straight out of the days of old.

"My grandparents kept this floor in great condition. The others, not so much." He removed his sneakers and allowed her a few minutes to walk around, to see the various paintings up close, to take in the ornate crown molding, before moving past a curtain to a concealed hallway.

"I thought your grandparents lived in Manhattan."

"My father's parents did. This belonged to my mother's parents. I never met them. They hated planes, or so I was told."

Planes. Katia shuddered.

"Are you cold?" Tony entered the massive kitchen. The island in the center alone was a large as the kitchen Katia and Rose shared in their apartment back home. No, the island had to be larger. Despite being outfitted with a double oven, as well as one built into the island, and other modern commodities, even the kitchen had an old-time feel to it. "I can get you a coat."

"I'm fine." But she wasn't. Her mouth had grown so dry Niagara Falls could not moisten it. Her breathing grew short, and her vision spotted. She had attempted to sit onto one of the stools near the island, but she missed. Down she fell, and her head connected with the ground.

RELEASE DAY: Kristin Burchell "The Witches of Proposal Rock"

 

Blurb:

In New England of 1660, magic is something to be feared and avoided. No one but the most desperate dares to climb Proposal Rock, where the Devil himself is said to wander. Only the guilt sixteen year old Anne feels over a kiss she shared with her best friend’s husband could persuade her to venture there.

While searching the forest, Anne meets the dreaded witch, Amabel, who guides her to discover that she possesses mysterious powers of her own. Anne tries to turn her back on this talent and immerse herself in the mundane life of her village, vowing never to return to Proposal Rock. But neither the Devil, nor the dark magic of the forest, will let her go that easily. She discovers that her fate is entwined with forest in ways she never could have imagined.

Anne falls in love with a mysterious young man she meets in the forest, but begins to suspect his intentions are deadly. Still, she can’t stay away from him.

Anne is forced to use her gift when the dark forces of Proposal Rock threaten her family. But her neighbors turn on her, and she is forced to make a choice: reveal her power and face a death sentence, or deny it, and lose everyone she loves. Either decision will change her world forever.

In New England of 1660, magic is something to be feared and avoided. No one but the most desperate dares to climb Proposal Rock, where the Devil himself is said to wander. Only the guilt sixteen year old Anne feels over a kiss she shared with her best friend’s husband could persuade her to venture there.

While searching the forest, Anne meets the dreaded witch, Amabel, who helps her discover that she possesses mysterious powers of her own. Anne tries to turn her back on this talent and immerse herself in the mundane life of her village, vowing never to return to Proposal Rock. But neither the Devil, nor the dark magic of the forest, will let her go that easily. Anne falls in love with a mysterious young man she meets in the forest, but begins to suspect his intentions are deadly. Powers Anne never suspected she had surface when a vicious beast terrorizes her, and the lives of her family are threatened.

 

 

Author:

Kristin Burchell loves the Oregon Coast and the legends that abound there, especially the legend of Proposal Rock. As an elementary school teacher, she loves writing and teaching the art of writing. She lives in Vancouver, Washington with her husband and two children. She writes whenever she can.

 

 

Now available on
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Excerpt:

Chapter One

Anne

 

The sky was clear and bright the morning we climbed the steep path into the forest to find the witch of Proposal Rock.

My best friend, Sarah, and I had hiked for two hours. As soon as we’d reached the trees, thick mist unfurled, coiling around us and darkening the day.

The cold, wet air clung to my skin. I shivered, wondering if I’d ever be warm again. But the chill was not just due to the cold. Even in our remote village, we’d heard the stories of the women in Salem tried as witches, not far from here. If anyone discovered what we were doing, who we were seeking, we could face the same fate as those women. But I owed a debt to Sarah.

The pines emitted a bitter scent, and beneath it I smelled something decaying and sweet, making me think of regret. Sharp pointed leaves edged in scarlet lined the path. Beneath them the mournful croaks of frogs sounded like unheeded warnings. No wonder, for more than one person had been lost in this forest, including my own father.

I stopped for a moment to slow my breath. Behind us, the path was a narrow ribbon woven among the trees. Overhead the twisted branches were bare, save a few brown leaves clinging desperately.

“Anne!” Sarah shouted from further up the path.

A damp wind gusted. A low groan rose from the limbs as they swayed. Over the sound, I heard a voice, calling. Anne. I froze. This voice was not Sarah’s.

“Anne!” Sarah called again, and I gave myself a shake.

“Coming!” No one in this forest knew my name. No one from the village knew we were here. If anyone in Newton discovered the reason for our climb, we’d be doomed, even Sarah, who was accepted by our neighbors. They thought of her as part of their family. Though I’d been born in Newton, just as Sarah had, my mother had come from a place outside the village. She, my sister, and I had never fully belonged in the village, as far as our neighbors were concerned. Their condemnation of me would be swift and painful.

“Hurry up!” Sarah called.

On either side of the path, the branches seemed to reach for us like desperate arms. I hurried after her, holding a hand to the stitch in my side. I couldn’t lose her the way I’d lost my father. She was my truest friend, my only friend, the one person in the village who did not shy away from me thanks to the peculiarity of my family. And, besides, I owed Sarah. Never had I regretted anything so much as the kiss I’d shared with her betrothed, the night before her wedding…

“Do we even know the witch exists?” I wheezed.

“You know she does.”

Shivering, I remembered as a child—the gleam of silver through the trees, of the face of the lady, all alight, whom I’d seen as if in a dream. I thought of her as the Silver Lady. For years I’d hidden the secret deep in my heart, but here in this forest it rose swift and hot to my throat.

“Do you truly believe she’d give you a potion?” I asked Sarah.

“I can pay her.”

“But do you think it would be real? That it would work?”

“I can’t lose John,” she answered.

My stomach twisted with guilt. Once I’d hoped she would lose him to me. “He’s been in love with you since we were children.” My voice sounded hollow, even to myself.

 “He’s not anymore.” Her eyes held mine until my skin prickled uncomfortably. Without another word, she turned and strode up the path.

I drew my cloak closer as the mist began to thicken, gripping our ankles.