October 26, 2017 – Sincerely Karen Jo

Marked Beauty by S.A. Larsen

Marked Beauty Cover

Publisher: Ellysian Press

Release Date: October 2017

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Uncovering hidden secrets can sometimes kill you . . . or worse, steal your soul.

Anastasia Tate has a secret. She can feel the emotions of others through their life energy auras. Not a welcome gift for a teenager. Especially when a sinister presence begins stalking her.

Viktor Castle also has a secret. He’s tasked with protecting humanity yet cursed by an ancient evil to destroy it.

After Viktor saves Ana’s life, her abilities grow stronger. Drawn together, she senses Viktor has answers to lifelong questions. Only he shuns her at every turn, knowing he has saved her only to put her in more danger.

As Ana struggles with her attraction to Viktor, he tries everything to bury his unexpected feelings for her. But they must find a middle ground. For only together can they combat the dark forces threatening both their lives . . . and their souls.

Excerpt #1

The air shifted, clouds tumbling in the sky. Out of nowhere, heavy mist blanketed them and quickly collected into droplets. Viktor backed from Anastasia, making way for a few students to jog between them, but he kept his eyes on her; she didn’t look away either. More kids scurried past with backpacks and blankets jostling in their arms. Sara and Finn trotted toward them.

A funnel of smoke billowed from the bonfire and, at the same time, a presence washed over Viktor; actually, it was more than one. He ripped his gaze from Anastasia to scan the area. Had someone detected his link with her? Had he been that stupid?

Energy bursts popped up all over the field, which could only mean one thing: Elementals were here, either for their own reasons or for hire; neither prospect could be good. Usually they were brought in to create diversions.

He darted a glance at Anastasia, now a few yards away. A force of hot and sticky energy slammed into them. Viktor stiffened to absorb the energy, but Anastasia’s body dropped to the craggy grass, spilling out the contents of her satchel.

Spurts of cranberry, amber, and ultramarine embers shrieked into the sky. Globs of ash and shards of wood littered the field. Students’ panic was the only music now playing in the air. Anastasia pushed to her knees, strands of hair crisscrossing her face. She coughed and gawked at the fire, horror infecting her eyes.

Viktor raced to her. As he kneeled by her side, her scream pierced him. “Can you see it?”

Her terror crimped a piece of his soul.

His eyes roved over a solid black hole of energy hovering near the flames, the tug fierce on his Rifter half knowing what he saw. Separate shadows and shades of energy fanned eel-like tails toward the sky. He’d never seen a compilation of energy that daring. The source could be anyone who dealt in energy from blood magick to witchcraft. But what had Anastasia seen?

The area lit up with sirens and blue lights brighter than the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center.

“I’ll get you out of here, Anastasia.”

“Not so fast, young man,” a voice of authority said.

Glancing up, Viktor saw a security guard in all the expected attire – useless sparkles of metal and a taser harnessed on his belt, which struggled to support his donut belly. A fancy uniform did not make a man. He wondered where they got these mall cops and opened his eyes, his pupils widening and flaring with lights. Having the ability to traipse around in the psyche of others, slipping them thoughts, did have its advantages on occasion. It took a lot out of Viktor, though.

The security guard dazed, turned around, and strolled away from them.

“Anastasia, take my hand,” Viktor said.

She gazed up at him like an innocent child wanting to know why. Surprisingly, she didn’t ask any questions. But the moment her hand slipped into his, it began.

About the Author

S.A. LARSEN is the author of the award-winning novel Motley Education, the first book in a fantasy-adventure series for middle grade readers. Her work has appeared in numerous local publications and young adult anthologies Gears of Brass and Under A Brass Moon by Curiosity Quills Press. Marked Beauty is her debut young adult novel. Find her in the land of snowy winters and the occasional Eh’ya with her husband of over twenty-five years, four children, a playful pooch, and three kittens. Visit her cyber home anytime at www.salarsenbooks.com.

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Thanks for reading and have a wonderful day lovelies.

Sincerely Karen Jo

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Posse: Legends
T. Hammond
(Posse, #1)
Publication date: October 26th 2017
Genres: Urban Fantasy, Young Adult

It should have been an easy job.

Track the jackal. Locate the girl. Rescue said girl. Return bad puppy to the Council for questioning.

As leader of the Posse, a paranormal alliance, shapeshifter Lexa O’Clare thought she’d seen everything over the past millennia. Neither she, nor her vampire partner, Etienne, expected this case to be different.

A fugitive werejackal leads them to a secret lab where supernaturals are unwilling subjects in genetic experimentation. The Posse uncovers a conspiracy implicating high-ranking members of the Inter-species Council.

Can anyone’s motives be trusted?

Lexa: a shapeshifter sheriff who also proxies for humans killed before their destinies are fulfilled.

Etienne: a Knight Templar, turned master vampire.

Yasmin: a dragon who walked among the gods.

Jade: an historian & Fox-familiar to a cranky dragon.

Sentinel: a gargoyle who mourns the fall of Atlantis.

Richard: a witch with a target on his back.

Tris: a rare polyshifter with an eye for a sexy male.

Rhys: four months ago he was human…

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EXCERPT:

I rocked forward on my arms so I could lean closer and hear more clearly. My attic bedroom was directly above the coven leader’s desk, and from this angle, I had a clear line-of-sight to the witches gathered below. It’s surprising how, after all this time, they still hadn’t caught on to the fact I was spying. I could see and hear everything they discussed. Note to self: when creating a sound-dampening spell, it’s not sufficient to muffle the walls, windows, and door—the floor and ceiling should also be considered.

The peephole had been a fortuitous mishap. I’d been practicing my air-moving skills when I accidentally created a small tornado. Hey now, it was a little one, only a couple feet tall—it’s not like I created a whirlwind of epic proportions. Did you know, if you got air spinning fast enough over a single focal point, it’s possible to drill a hole in a wood floor? It was easy enough to make a plug to conceal the damage, and my room’s simple privacy spell was always active, so there were no worries of discovery. Even if they’d looked up—and they never looked up—my magic was flawless enough they’d see an unblemished ceiling. Cocky witches.

Each coven contained a main circle of twelve witches, plus a priestess. The strongest groups consist of extended families who could pick and choose the most promising amongst themselves, but most covens are formed from a collection of individuals with varying degrees of power and skill. Mother Nan’s coven was moderately talented, with a core group of six sycophants, err…I mean, mature practitioners, all of which were crowded around her desk—standing, of course. The seventh witch was Lea, a semi-strong practitioner who still lacked emotional control over her mouth and her magic, but was her mother’s favorite daughter.

“He’s an abomination.” Mara spat the words as if they left a foul residue in her mouth.

“Too true,” Betti agreed, as was her nature.

“It’s a miracle we haven’t been killed in our beds,” Ella said, lips pursed in sour disapproval.

“Oh, definitely, in our beds.” Betti nodded in quick little jerks, like a bobble-head doll.

Coral sniffed. “It was touch-and-go while he went through his let’s-set-everything-on-fire phase.”

Oh, come on now, I’d been sick, running a high fever. I was seven! You’d think, after all this time, they could let it go.

Author Bio:

T, a paranormal romance and urban fantasy author, feels writing is not a calling so much as it is a compulsion. No one is more surprised than she is when characters take over the plot and dialog, (re)directing stories in directions she had not (consciously) intended. Although T starts out each novel with a basic outline, she finds one or two chapters into the novels, not only have the characters shredded her outline into tiny unidentifiable pieces, they use the resulting confetti in a nose-thumbing parade.

T is fully convinced the writer is the tool a story uses to tell its tale.

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