Friday, June 27, 2014

First Fight Friday: The Scandalous Love of a Duke by Jane Lark


Goats solve their differences head-on. They don’t give the silent treatment or yell, they butt heads, and then it’s over.
Cowboy Marvin has learned humans resolve issues differently especially those romantically involved. His curiosity sparked, he has invited authors to stop by on Fridays and share a first fight from one of their books.


Fellow Harper Impulse author,
and a Fire Writer for multiple 
Written Fireside stories.
Check out her Fire Writer Friday interview with Cowboy Marvin

Jane Lark      


    is here for ...


First Fight Friday 

with a scene from 

The Scandalous Love of a Duke

A rush of pain and longing spilled from
Katherine's heart into her limbs. 

It was so long since she'd seen John but her reaction was the same as it had been more than half-a-dozen years before. 

She loved him, 
secretly, 
without hope, 
but a chasm of years and status stood between them.


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His gaze clung to her, sweeping over her figure. She wore a thin muslin dress beneath a faded light blue spencer. Her arms were slender. His gaze trailed upwards from her narrow waist to see her bosom lift and fall as though she was short of breath.

Her face was in the shadow of a broad-rimmed poke straw-bonnet, while her hands were covered by the same kid leather gloves she’d worn in London, which must feel excruciatingly hot in this heat.

He halted the animals, set the brake, looped the ribbons across the rail and jumped down.

He had come out in unseemly dress; he’d not intended speaking to anyone. His black waistcoat hung open and his shirtsleeves were rolled up. He probably looked like a labourer, but he had wished to be the man from Egypt again today and not a duke.

“Katherine?” he said again, approaching her.

She hadn’t said a thing, or even moved since she’d turned, but as he neared, she took a step back.

She looked as though any minute she might turn and run.

He reached out and caught her forearm to stop her.

“What on earth were you wool-gathering over?”

Those wide blue eyes, which did not show their true colour when hidden in the shadow of her bonnet, questioned his existence.

His hand slid down her slender arm and felt her muscle judder from the intimacy. Then he gripped her fingers and lifted them to his lips.

He would rather have kissed her skin than her worn leather glove.

He let her hand fall.

“You should have heard the horses yards back.”

She was blushing again, and her eyes glittered with a starry look, as though she was shocked, or…

The air left his lungs.

Or…

He knew that look of want. He’d seen it in a hundred women’s eyes.

Without thought, one hand released the bow securing the ribbons of her bonnet, while the other cupped her nape. Then as her bonnet tumbled down her back and fell into the dust, he kissed her mouth.

He burned for her, and the uncertain pressure of her fingers gripping his shoulders was sublime as she opened her mouth under the pressure of his lips. His tongue invaded, taking as she gave, claiming what he suddenly desperately wanted to be his.

She arched against him and his other arm came about her waist to pull her body nearer.

A tender, desperate and shocked sound came from her mouth and then she was pulling away, and pushing him back. An instant later she gave him a stinging slap across the cheek.

Damn!

His hand covered his cheek, but instead of feeling regret or guilt it was laughter which rose inside him and a feeling of relief, as though a cork had just blown from an effervescent bottle and let emotion spew out.

She was clearly not amused by his laughter and her cheeks flamed red, while her eyes burned a bright turquoise. It was a look of insulted pride.

Yet, a moment ago, her eyes had said quite clearly kiss me, and far more, and she’d been pliant and willing when he’d accepted that unspoken offer.

His heart thumped steadily. He had been too long without a woman.

He dragged in a deep breath and smiled, genuinely. He could not remember the last time he had smiled from emotion and not merely made the correct face.

The horses whickered behind him.

Both his hands gripped her waist.

She stepped back, out of his reach, almost treading on her bonnet.

He bent and picked it up.



Katherine’s heart raced. What had she done! What had she let him do! Why had he done it?

She had not even known John was there. She had not even known he was in the county. His only greeting had been her name.

She took another step back, longing to distance herself from the tug she felt towards him as he stood straight again, gripping her bonnet in his hand.

Why had he kissed her? She was mute with anger and embarrassment. She felt appalled. Why would he do that? Why had she let him?

“John!” she said as his hand reached out towards her again, while his other gripped her bonnet. She stepped back once more, avoiding him, but at the same time lifted her hand to claim her bonnet.

He pulled it out of reach.

“What did you think you were you doing?” she thrust accusingly at him.

“Saying hello.” He laughed again, as though kissing her on a public highway was a joke.

There was warmth in his eyes though, which had not been there on the day of the funeral, and her heart ached to see it, no matter that she was angry. She saw a glimpse of the old John there.

“Let me have my bonnet?”

He lifted his arm so she would never be able to reach it, and merely smiled.

“John! Do not be a brute!” She didn’t understand what was going on, and she lifted her hand to slap him again, but his free hand caught her wrist. “The weather has touched you in the head, John?”

“Not the weather, Katherine.” He grinned. But then his smile slipped away and an austere look came over him.

Her heartbeat rang like a hammer on an anvil. Did he think it was acceptable to just kiss a woman like that?

A dark light suddenly glowed at the heart of his pale eyes.

Her hand shook as she reached out for her bonnet again. She felt sick.

When he lifted it away once more, she said, “Let me have it, John,” feeling suddenly desperate and a little afraid of him.

“So you can cover up that pretty face. These things are a crime. Someone ought to make a law against poke bonnets. Perhaps I shall propose it in the house – every woman’s bonnet must let a man see her face.”

He was being ridiculous. “John!”

Katherine,” he mocked.

She could not believe he was doing this. Nor that he had kissed her so crudely.

She had done nothing but worship him for nearly a decade and he was busy ridiculing her. She hated him suddenly. “Give me back my bonnet, John, and let me go, and you are not to come near me again. I am not something for you to play with, Your Grace.” Fool. You fool, Katherine.

His manor changed almost instantly and his hand let her arm go, as his other fell to offer her bonnet.

“It was not an insult, Katherine,” he said as she gripped it.

“Then you kiss every woman you see walking alone on a road, I suppose?” Of course he would not. Only the ones who were foolish enough to love him, and only the ones who had no family to protect them.

His fingers tightened on her bonnet again, crushing it, before she could free it from his hand.

“Not every woman, Katherine, just the ones who look at me with azure blue eyes that say they long for it – just you, Kate.”

She felt herself turn pink but refused to play tug of war for her bonnet and let it go again.

“Give it to me,” she stated gruffly.

“No, not until you admit you wished it so.”

“No!”

“I’ll not beg your forgiveness,” he answered in a hard pitch. “You wished for it.”

“And you’ve grown arrogant, John Harding.”

“Perhaps so,” he said in a low harsh voice. “But you wished for it. You did. I know.”

“You cannot know.” There was anguish in her voice and, in answer, his eyes softened again and he held forth her bonnet once more.

“Katherine, you held me and kissed me back, you cannot deny it.” The words were gentle but they cut into her heart. She still craved him. It was almost desperation which she felt.

Tears rushed into her eyes. She had longed for it. But not like this.

His pitch softened further. “Your eyes expressed desire before I even kissed you.”

She lifted her hand to slap him again, but he caught it once more and raised his eyebrows.

She felt ashamed. They both knew what he’d said was true. She had turned and faced him, and her heart had leapt into her throat. His attraction was fierce today. He was half undressed, unshaven and he wore no hat, and he was simply, essentially, masculine – tall, strong, agile and assertive.

Was this what her natural mother had felt for her father, this desperation?

Katherine had wanted to be kissed, and if that desire was to be fulfilled, how else might it be done if not like this? He would hardly choose to marry her. There was a world between them, not simply miles. If she wanted kisses from him, they would have to be kisses like this.

She did not try to pull either her arm free, or her bonnet from his hand, she felt calm suddenly. “Give me back my bonnet, Your Grace. Please?”

“Say that you wished for it?” There was a cold hard look back in his eyes.

“No.”

“Say it.”

When she did not, his grip firmed on her arm, though it was not painful. “Say it!”

His voice rang with determination.

No, John.”

His hand suddenly left her arm and then it was back at her nape bracing her neck and holding her firm as he pulled her mouth to his.

His kiss was a hard pressure against her lips. She had not imagined kissing to be like this. Her heart raced, and her fingers clawed into the muscle of his arms to steady herself. She felt faint and hot and liquid-boned.

It was brief, barely an instant long, but when he pulled away his pale eyes shone like glass with triumph. “You wished for it,” he whispered over her lips. “Say it.”

“Yes,” she answered, knowing she turned crimson as she did so. She felt the provincial idiot she was, gauche, weak and base born.

He said nothing, his eyes boring deep into her soul.


Copyright © Jane Lark


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The Scandalous Love of a Duke by Jane Lark  


Isolated by life and choice, John Harding, the Duke of Pembroke, sees an angel in a pale mauve dress across a room and is drawn closer as lust grips firm and hard in his stomach.

The wheat-blonde hair escaping her dull dove-grey bonnet and caressing her neck lures his eyes to a spot he'd like to kiss.

She speaks with animation her hands moving. Then as if she senses his gaze the stranger turns and looks at him.


The Scandalous Love of a Duke

is available on

Amazon   Barnes & Noble   iTunes   KOBO 



The Scandalous Love of a Duke

is book three in Jane Lark's Marlow Intrigues
a best-selling kindle Regency romance series!



About Jane:

Jane is a writer of authentic, passionate and emotional Historical and New Adult romance and author of a No.1 bestselling Historical Novel,'The Illicit Love of a Courtesan', as well as a Kindle overall top 25, bestselling author in the United States of America. 

She began her first historical novel at sixteen, but a life full of adversity derailed her as she lives with the restrictions of Ankylosing Spondylitis. 

When she finally completed a novel it was because she was determined not to reach forty still saying, I want to write. 

Now Jane is writing a Regency series as well as contemporary, new adult, stories and she is thrilled to be giving her characters life in others' imaginations at last. 

You might think that Jane was inspired to write by Jane Austen, especially as she lives near Bath in the United Kingdom, but you would be wrong. Jane's favourite author is Anya Seton, and the book which drew her into the bliss of falling into historical imagination was 'Katherine' a story crafted from reality. 

Jane has drawn on this inspiration to discover other real-life love stories, reading memoirs and letters to capture elements of the past, and she uses these to create more realistic plots. 

'Basically I love history and I am sucker for a love story. I love the feeling of falling in love; it's wonderful being able to do it time and time again in fiction.' 

Jane is also a Chartered Member of the Institute of Personnel and Development in the United Kingdom, and uses this specialist understanding of people to bring her characters to life.

  

Follow Jane Lark online

              
Thanks for sharing Jane!

Friday, June 20, 2014

First Fight Friday: The Glenmore's: Deputy by Susan Horsnell


Goats solve their differences head-on. They don’t give the silent treatment or yell, they butt heads, and then it’s over.
Cowboy Marvin has learned humans resolve issues differently especially those romantically involved. His curiosity sparked, he has invited authors to stop by on Fridays and share a first fight from one of their books.


Author
&
a Fire Writer for Written Fireside 


Susan Horsnell      




    is here for ...



First Fight Friday 

with a scene from 

The Glenmore's: Deputy

When James Glenmore locks up a feisty young girl because she causes a 
disturbance in the local saloon; he doesn't realize both their lives 
are about to change forever.


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James was concentrating on a report and twirling a cider in his hand when the front swinging doors were pushed open so hard they banged on the walls behind. He swore the doors hit the wall so hard the whole building shook. He dropped his hand to his colt as he kept his eye on the door.

A woman in the doorway roared. “Pa, you get your good for nothing, lily livered ass off that stool and get home right this minute. I swear I’ll hog tie you and drag you there behind Peachy if you don’t move now. And, if Peachy happens to release his business over you on the way home I wouldn’t be sorry.”

Tim March, the owner and barkeep groaned. He really didn’t want any trouble.

The woman at the door drew James’ attention. The powerful banging of the doors and thunderous voice came from a tiny package that a good gust of wind could have blown away. She had auburn red hair that was more out of, than in, a braid, eyes the colour of a summer sky and the fullest, pinkest lips he had ever seen. She wore a drab brown dress with no frills or lace and although old, it appeared to be clean. Like the woman, it was all business.

She had her hands placed on a pair of very curvy hips and her breasts were full and firm. James cringed. She was everything he hated in a woman. He felt embarrassed for her father, whoever the unfortunate fella might be. He relaxed his hand that had been hovering over his colt and watched to see how this would play out.

Every eye in the saloon was on her except for one mans’ and James guessed he must be her father. He was perched on a stool and draped over the bar with a whiskey in his hand. The Deputy watched with interest as she stomped her way towards him. The man lifted his head but didn’t look at his daughter.

“Rebecca, what the devil do you think you’re doing? I’ve told you a thousand times, saloons are no place for a lady.”

She drew up alongside him. “Wade Nolan, I’ve told you a thousand times, I ain’t no lady. I have never been one and I ain’t never gonna be one. If you weren’t always in a saloon I wouldn’t have to keep coming in to drag you out. Now get your sorry ass off that stool and get on home. There’s chores need doin’ and I’m not doin’ ‘em all myself again.”

“Rebecca, please.” Wade lifted his hands to his head and slumped back down on the bar “Me heads a hurtin’, just one more whisky for your old Pa eh?”

James watched with amusement as Rebecca moved closer to her Pa. No-one in the saloon had moved an inch. They were too engrossed with the exchange between father and daughter.

Wade was a huge man. James had seen him walk in earlier and figured he would be at least a head taller than his more than six feet. Although he wasn’t muscular; he was wide in the chest. His large belly, thanks to constant consumption of liquor, hung over his belt. Rebecca would have barely come to his waist. His ruddy face from years of drinking was heavily lined.

What happened next had James leaping from his chair and moving towards them in a hurry.

Rebecca hooked her leg around the leg of the stool and yanked with all her strength. As the stool tipped, Wade fell backwards onto the floor. His head hit the floor with a thud and his eyes glazed over. Whether the cause was the whisky he’d been imbibing or his head hitting the floor, James didn’t know.

As she began moving toward her father again James grabbed the spitfire around the waist and hoisted her off her feet. She kicked and screamed, catching him hard in the shins with the heels of her boots. It caused him to let go and she spun around to face him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing mister?” she yelled.

She hadn’t noticed the badge on his chest. He noticed the fire in her eyes. She was one very angry young gal.

“Miss, you can’t go around treating people like that. You could have injured him real bad.” he said calmly.

She wasn’t paying attention to James as she’d noticed Wade sit up, he was rubbing the back of his head. She reached down to grab a handful of his hair but before she could get to it James grabbed her arm to stop her.

“Get your goddamned hands off me.” With her free arm, and using all her strength, she swung. Her fist connected hard with James’ jaw. He stumbled back a step from the force of the punch but he didn’t release her. As she lifted her leg to stomp on his foot, James decided he’d had enough of this wildcat.

He flung her over his shoulder, picked up the report he’d been reading and headed for the jail.

Copyright © Susan Horsnell


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The Glenmore's: Deputy by Susan Horsnell 


When James Glenmore locks up a feisty young girl because she causes a disturbance in the local saloon; he doesn't realize both their lives are about to change forever.

They have to endure her father’s deadly temper, which has already destroyed her young life, before they can be free.

A band of outlaws target the bank in Gold Springs and several horrendous tortures and murders take place before the law finally catches up with them; James’ life is placed in grave danger.

James and Rebecca’s lives withstand all obstacles that are put before them but will James survive the capture of the cruel outlaws?


The Glenmore's: Deputy

is available on

Amazon   Barnes & Noble   iTunes   KOBO



The Glenmore's: Deputy 
is Book 2 of a 4 book series

Follow Susan Horsnell online
WEBSITE ~ FACEBOOK ~ TWITTER  BLOG 

              
Thanks for sharing Susan!


Friday, June 13, 2014

First Fight Friday: Murder Most Foul by JoAnne Myers


Goats solve their differences head-on. They don’t give the silent treatment or yell, they butt heads, and then it’s over.
Cowboy Marvin has learned humans resolve issues differently especially those romantically involved. His curiosity sparked, he has invited authors to stop by on Fridays and share a first fight from one of their books.



  

JoAnne Myers      




    is here for ...



First Fight Friday 

with a scene from 

Murder Most Foul

Solving a grisly double homicide proves to be pure murder for the dangerously handsome FBI Agent Walker Harmon. With a suspect list involving the victims' parents, ex-lovers, Satanists, a contaminated crime scene, corrupt police, and the motorcycle gang the Devil's Disciples, circumstances turn the hunt personal, as the hunter become the prey.

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That evening, while investigating another lead, Harmon's scanner reported a drug bust in progress. Believing his assistance was needed; he rushed to the scene, finding the drug house surrounded.

“How many inside?” Harmon asked Chief Barstow.

Crouching behind his cruiser with his officers, the chief asked, “What are you doing here? We got this under control.”

Drawled his weapon, the agent said, “Bull-shit! You need all the help you can get, and you know it. Do you have tear gas?”

“We're not equipped with that gear,” the chief replied.

“Then give me a hand scanner,” Harmon said, accepting one from an officer. “I'll take care of the back. You guys handle the front.” Hiding behind bushes, parked cars, and trash cans, the chief and his men inched their way to the front door. Once they were positioned, Harmon radioed the chief, “I'm going in,” and kicked in the dilapidated rear door. Discovering an empty kitchen with kilos of cocaine and scales atop a table, he edged along, gun drawn.

Suddenly, he heard muffled cries from the utility closet and yelled through the door. “F.B.I.! Come out with your hands up.”

“I give up. I give up,” cried a feminine voice.

After lowering his weapon and opening the door, out popped Deidra Sloan, armed with a meat cleaver. Swinging wildly at the agent, she cut his forearm, knocking his pistol from his hand.

Too busy to feel pain, Harmon danced around the small filthy room dodging the cleaver. Knocking over chairs, pots and pans fell to the floor, while Deidra fought like a wildcat...until Harmon's experience prevailed and he clipped her a strong, right cross.

Standing in the doorway Sheriff Brown smirked. “Good exercise, wasn’t it?” he asked. “That broad is like a bad penny that keeps turnin' up. She just won't learn. We found the rest of the gang hidin' upstairs. We been watch’n this place for six months.”

After the deputies cuffed everyone, to the sheriff's dismay, Harmon said, “I want to interrogate all of them.”

“Look! I know these druggies. They don't have nothin' to do with the dead kids,” the sheriff claimed.

“I'll be the judge of that. I'll be at the station within the hour.”

Copyright © JoAnne Myers
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Murder Most Foul by JoAnne Myers

When two dismembered torsos wash up on the banks of the local river in the small industrial town of Pleasant Valley, residents are horrified. Between contradicting statements, police ineptitude, lust, lies, manipulation, incest, the motorcycle gang The Devil’s Disciples, crooked cops, and a botched crime scene, everyone becomes a suspect.



The young beautiful Jackie Reeves, a registered nurse, believes the killer is a man from her past. She contacts the dangerously handsome FBI Agent Walker Harmon. An arrest is made, but Harmon and Jackie believe an innocent man is being railroaded by local cops. How far will these lover’s go to solve this heinous crime before anymore killings. Determined to find the truth, Agent Harmon and Jackie are forced to run a gauntlet of deep trouble and turmoil, which marks them for death.



Murder Most Foul 

is available on

Amazon  Barnes & Noble  Melange Books  Lulu



Other books by JoAnne:

"WICKED INTENTIONS" a paranormal/mystery anthology

"LOVES', MYTHS' AND MONSTERS'," a fantasy anthology

"THE CRIME OF THE CENTURY," a biography true-crime

POEMS ABOUT LIFE, LOVE, AND EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN
Other books soon available:

"TWISTED LOVE," a true-crime anthology

“FLAGITIOUS,” a detective/mystery anthology



About JoAnne:
I have been a long-time resident of southeastern Ohio, and worked in the blue-collar industry most of my life. Besides having several novels under my belt, I canvas paints.

When not busy with hobbies or working outside the home, I spend time with relatives, my dog Jasmine, and volunteer my time within the community. I am a member of the International Women’s Writing Guild, Savvy Authors, Coffee Time Romance, Paranormal Romance Guild, True Romance Studios, National Writers Association, the Hocking Hill's Arts and Craftsmen Association, The Hocking County Historical Society and Museum, and the Hocking Hills Regional Welcome Center. I believe in family values and following your dreams. My original canvas paintings, can be found at: booksandpaintingsbyjoanne.com



Follow JoAnne Myers online

              
Thanks for sharing JoAnne!


Friday, June 6, 2014

First Fight Friday: Scorched by Erica Hayes


Goats solve their differences head-on. They don’t give the silent treatment or yell, they butt heads, and then it’s over.

Cowboy Marvin has learned humans resolve issues differently especially those romantically involved. His curiosity sparked, he has invited authors to stop by on Fridays and share a first fight from one of their books.




  Erica Hayes      




    is here for ...



First Fight Friday 

with a scene from 

Scorched


Scorched is about superheroes. Yay! 

As you can imagine, there are a lot of cool fight scenes – 
but heroes are supposed to fight the villains, right? 
Not each other…

Verity, my heroine, is having trouble controlling her telekinetic superpowers. Which is fair enough, considering that a few weeks back, her archenemy had her thrown in an asylum and tortured… but it means her power is unreliable. 
Not a good thing when you're supposed to be saving innocent lives. 

So here's the scene where my crime-fighting heroine, Verity, 
and her dark-and-mysterious-with-a-heart-of-gold sidekick, Glimmer, have their first real argument.

They've just had a climactic fight with a greasy villain called Iceclaw, who has this nefarious scheme involving a truckload of nerve gas (yeah, nice guy) – and Verity screwed up. 
She's waiting for Glimmer to call her out… 
but he's just not that kind of guy. 

Hope you enjoy!


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Twenty minutes later, I paced before Glimmer's console, yanking my ragged braid over my shoulder. My skin itched like ant bites. My new shiny costume felt too tight, and inside it I sweated, feverish. I tugged my mask off and tossed it aside. It didn't help.

My stomach thrashed like a pit of cobras, bad-tempered and ready to strike. I wanted to kick something, scream, shudder the ceiling loose with my rage. Sweep all those fancy screens to the floor and watch them shatter.

I wanted to shatter him.

Because Glimmer didn't shout, or hit me, or demand to know what the f*** I thought I was doing. He hadn't unbuckled his shiny black suit, or washed his skunky head under the tap to fight the heat. He didn't even look like he was sweating.

He just sat there, skewering me with that reproachful gaze. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm great," I said shortly. "Why do you ask?"

A light shrug. "Just wondering—"

"Why don't you ever say what you really mean?" I wrenched my coat off and tossed it on the desk. Underneath I wore a tank top, and my bare arms stung with sweat. It didn't cool me down. "Huh? Stop hiding behind that mask and tell the g**damn truth for once. Because guess what? I don't believe your nice-guy act for one second."

"Verity—"

"Go on. Show me that bad-boy anger." I leaned over, getting right in his face. "You know it's in there, Glimmer. You know you want to let it loose. Hit me. Curse at me. Say, 'What the f*** happened, Verity, you dumb bitch, are you trying to get us killed?'"

He shoved me away, spinning his chair so he could get up, and rounded on me, that smoldering spark igniting a magnesium flashburn. "Okay. Fine. What the f*** happened, Verity? Are you trying to get us killed? Jesus. Do the words 'incendiary nerve agent' mean nothing to you?"

Ha. Got a rise out of him. I should've been triumphant. But I just felt nauseated, fevered, like I had the flu. "What else was I supposed to do?" I demanded. "He had it in his hand. What do you want, that I should just let him go?"

"I want you to use some finesse." He fisted his hair, exasperated. "I want you to think before you hit things. But no, you were too determined to hurt him—"

"Like you were a big f***ing help," I interrupted. "If you weren't so damn keen on keeping Weasel alive, you could have helped me."

"What, did you want me to shoot him?"

"Yes, I f***ing well wanted you to shoot him!" My nerves hacked ragged, but I was too angry to stop. "What were you saving him for? He's a Gallery scumbag. An accessory to murder. A freak who thinks a truckload of Pyrotox bombs is just a lovely idea. Yeah, he's a real nice guy, Glimmer. Totally worth saving a bullet for."

"This is not about saving bullets. This is about the difference between them and us."

"Oh, yeah?" I jumped closer, furious. "And what's that? Competence? Intelligence? They've got a plan and we don't?"

"No," he retorted, and the air around him shimmered with his frustration. "It's that we're supposed to give a damn who we hurt. And I don't think you do, Verity." He let out a deep breath, calming. "I think you would've let Iceclaw crush that canister and kill us all, not to mention half the damn neighborhood. So long as it meant he'd go down, too. Just to get your revenge."

"Right," I said sarcastically. "Even though it was Razorfire who f***ed me over, not Iceclaw. You know so much about me, do you? Then tell me. Revenge for what?"

Glimmer hesitated, and for a moment I really thought he'd back down.

"For making you afraid that you're one of them," he said softly.

Copyright © Erica Hayes


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Scorched by Erica Hayes

In a world where everyone wears a mask, 
you can't trust anyone… 
not even yourself.

Verity Fortune was once Sapphire City’s top crime-fighter, wielding her powers of telekinesis to battle the city’s most despicable villains.

Now, she’s consumed by a single burning desire: revenge. Against those who took away her mask, her memory, and nearly her life.

Having escaped from the asylum they left her to rot in, Verity dons her mask once again and becomes the Seeker, a vigilante warrior for truth.

But when she unwittingly uncovers an evil conspiracy deep within her own family, she’s suddenly on the run, alone and hunted by those she thought were on her side…



Scorched 

is available on

Harper Impulse   Goodreads

Amazon   Barnes & Noble   iTunes    KOBO


About Erica:
I’m an Aussie living in northern England, where at least the hospitality and the beer are warm. I write in coffee shops, feed my enormous cat, and watch TV or read until far too late at night. If it’s got serial killers, superheroes, monsters or spaceships – preferably all four – I’m there.

On the big issues: Captain Picard is cooler than Captain Kirk, Batman would beat up Superman, and vampires are hotter than werewolves any day. See, I knew we’d get along.




Follow Erica Hayes online
WEBSITE ~ FACEBOOK ~ TWITTER  

              
Thanks for sharing Erica!



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