Snatched into a magical dimension by a demon, art student, Laura Evans, has to grapple with the unimaginable. Lucifer wants to destroy her soul because she's all that stands between him and total domination over all creation. People here say she is their saviour and it's up to her to save the universe with her new found powers of healing.
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Morrigan peered out of the dense shrubs surrounding the clearing. She was vexed with the warriors who had refused to acknowledge her skills on the battlefield, and would only belittle her for her young age and the fact that she was a woman. Bloody fools! She was Morrigan, the war goddess, and they should have been honoured to have her in their ranks! Instead, here she was reduced to the sidelines – no, hiding in the bushes – watching for an opportunity to join in the fray.
Only one woman, ringed by the fiercest warriors, stood in the thick of the battle. She stood not to wield a sword, but to wield powers of healing and transformation. At her side fought her husband, Vaaron, the Protector, slashing at any threat that might harm Lauren as she worked her magic on their troops and others captured on the battlefield who were enslaved by evil.
Morrigan gasped. Lauren was down! That sneaky little demon, Dience, had slithered through the legs of the warriors undetected, had gutted Lauren, and then had ducked back through their legs to the safety of the gargoyle horde. It had happened in a matter of seconds!
“No!” Vaaron cried in anguish. “No! No! No!” he wailed as he fell to his knees and gathered his wife against his chest. “Heal thyself, Lauren!”
Blood dribbled from her mouth. She managed a slight shake of her head as she simultaneously opened her mouth allowing even more blood to spill out and run down her chin onto her chest. It prevented her from speaking the magical words that could heal. Resigned to her fate, Lauren gazed deeply into Vaaron’s eyes and sent her last thoughts to him telepathically. Can’t speak... too damaged, Vaaron...Love you... forever... Her eyes dimmed, and her body went limp in his arms.
“No!” he screamed frantically, as swords clashed all around them. His arms tightened about her unresponsive body and he rocked with her in stunned silence oblivious to the deadly turmoil surrounding them.
Tears streaming down her face, Morrigan burst through the bushes brandishing her sword. Lauren was dead! Her best friend was gone!
“No!” Vaaron wailed again as tears rolled down his face. Angrily he dashed a hand across his eyes and rose to his feet bringing Lauren with him. For a moment his eyes pinned the grinning demon, Dience. The diminutive man-like creature raised his sword, coated with Lauren’s blood and entrails, in a victorious salute.
Morrigan barreled through the ravages of the battlefield, barely staying on her feet as she traversed the slippery, blood soaked field. She slashed her way through the gargoyle horde in an impressive attack that left few standing in her wake. “Vaaron!” she yelled over the sound of clashing blades. “I have your back. Take Lauren home!” Numbly Vaaron turned in the direction of her voice. “She needs to go home!” Morrigan insisted as she deflected yet another blade.
She allowed her focus to hone in on the men surrounding them and Morrigan bellowed, “Lauren is dead!”
Her voice was amplified, ringing over the sounds of the battlefield! That was a new development in her powers, she thought as she parried a vicious thrust aimed at Vaaron. “Protect the Protector!” She winced as one of their young warriors, lost his head when he turned, startled by her god-like voice that muffled the sounds of war with its far reaching volume. His headless torso jerked as it collapsed on the field. More seasoned warriors remained intent on their foe despite the power augmenting Morrigan’s voice. However, they immediately began to drop back to reinforce the circle that had protected Lauren. Morrigan could tell from their tight expressions that many had not been cognisant of Lauren’s fate before she had made her announcement.
Seemingly unaware of the war that raged around him, Vaaron acknowledged, with a nod of his head, the role of command Morrigan had assumed before he carried Lauren towards the forest. He trusted Morrigan, Lauren’s best friend, to see to their safe passage.
Under her leadership, his troops rallied behind him and followed his retreat, their responsibility clear. They had to protect the Protector, Vaaron, as he carried out his final duty. Lauren’s body must not be captured, for if there was the slightest spark of life, and the Dark Lord captured her, he would cremate her, eradicating all hope for future generations. With her remains secure in his arms, hope still survived!
Georgia Hayden is an established business journalist for a major media company in Auckland, New Zealand. Travelling back from a business conference, she spots an old friend. When Georgia is asked to interview the old friend, he is reluctant.
Business mogul Quinn Masters lost his wife thirteen years ago and left New Zealand for the UK, hoping to raise his daughter away from the attention of the media. When he returns home after twelve years, he knows there will be some speculation but still wants to protect his daughter.
Then Georgia convinces him to do the interview. Neither of them expect to discover a mutual attraction.
They're both gun shy, for their own reasons. If they can just find a way to get past those issues, they may find love is indeed lovelier the second time around.
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Some see him as an angel, a redeemer. Others see him as the most terrifying demon imagined. He roams the city streets of New Orleans to save the innocent and punish the wicked in this very dark fiction thriller.
Note: Due to explicit violence, language, and mature content, this book is not recommended for those under the age of 17.
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Questions never asked don't always remain unanswered.
A blood-stained journal holds the answers to secrets her mother took to the grave, but an enigmatic old man knows the answers--truths she never expected.
Another round of turmoil isn't on her agenda, but when Ryleigh Collins discovers a blood-stained journal among her deceased mother's belongings, her curiosity leads her to a puzzling Mark Twain look-alike who shatters her family history--and her sense of belonging.
Bearing a treasure chest of secrets and a deeply scarred heart, Ryleigh returns home to her ex-husband's appeal to take him back. Overwhelmed, she seeks refuge in the quiet majesty of the Rocky Mountains. But as the snow deepens, so do her feelings for Logan Cavanaugh, the distinctly reserved resort owner.
Two lost souls collide in a paralyzing snowstorm, but when the skies clear, Logan surrenders to a deepening guilt he can't fight. Ryleigh's sense of abandonment is further compromised with his sudden departure, though she refuses to believe they've left their shared memories frozen in the mountains of Colorado.
She's struggling with shocking truths while trying to move on; he's caught in a crossfire of a battle he doesn't know how to fight.
One woman. Three promises--one honored, one broken, one pledged.
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Dreams die every day
Some drown in the endless churn of a washing machine,
some get lost under an avalanche of responsibilities
and still others suffocate in the wake of a broken promise.
Dreams die—disappearing with the sun in the western sky.
But a sprig of grass will sprout from a blanket of snow,
new life will be born when two become one,
and a phoenix will rise from the ashes left behind.
Dreams reborn—blooming with dawn’s radiant new light.
SCARRED CORNERS FRAMED the small journal she pulled from the old shoebox. She traced the cover with one finger, dark stains and pebbled leather disquieting, yet as oddly familiar as the stale odor of cigarettes her mother promised to quit smoking and never did. Now the tenuous reminder, void of the peppermints her mother nursed to disguise the smell, threatened to unravel the tethers holding her together.
God, how she wished she could rewrite the last year.
With her legs crossed beneath her, Ryleigh Collins clutched the journal to her chest, leaned against the wall of her mother’s apartment—as empty of her possessions as the world was of her—and let the shadows of the waning morning swallow her.
“I can’t do this.” She grabbed a loose thread in the denim stretched over her knees and yanked hard.
Two feet bundled in thick navy blue socks appeared in front of her. “Can’t do what?”
Ryleigh raised her eyes, moist with remembrance.
“Ah.” Natalie crossed her feet, lowered herself with the grace of a toned dancer, and placed a firm, yet gentle hand on Ryleigh’s arm. “The personal stuff’s the hardest.”
After a pause, Ryleigh tucked the knot of emotions neatly back where they belonged and turned. “I’m such a wimp.”
“You’ll get through this.” Natalie Jo Burstyn’s perfectly manicured brows knitted together in a scowl that masked her usual playful grin. “I intend to see you do.”
The lump in her throat strangled the words she’d rehearsed since Natalie had offered to drop everything to help. Of course she would. Her meddling best friend always seemed to know exactly what to do. Or say. She grasped Natalie’s hand and squeezed.
Sometimes words got in the way.
Ryleigh released a long breath and straightened her legs. The journal tumbled to her lap.
She swiped a hand across the journal’s cover and then wiped them on her jeans. “An old journal,” Ryleigh said, brushing away the dusty handprint.
“Don’t just sit there fondling it, open it.”
As Brooke continues her journey with love, she realizes that relationships are not all pictures and kisses. She begins to question herself and others. She really doesn’t know if love will conquer all. She has to decide will she choose herself or will she live for someone else's pleasure.
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“FUCK YOU AND THAT BITCH TOO!” I spat into the phone.
“Man, you are fucking tripping,” he grumbled.
“I’m not and I hope her braces scrape your dick. I hope it looks like a grated hot dog,” I said.
“Don’t say anything you are going to regret,” he snarled.
“I mean every inch of it until further notice. Prove to me, I am hallucinating all of this. I’m just so glad we don’t have to bring a child into this dysfunctional ass relationship,” I said with hot droplets rolling down my face.
I repeated what I said back in my head immediately and realized I had just fucked myself over.
“What does a child have to do with any of this?” he asked.
“Absolutely nothing. I was just looking at something and accidentally blurted that out.”
I tried to cover my tracks but it didn’t work.
“Where did that even come from? You don’t bring up random shit like that. Are you pregnant?” he demanded.
“I’m getting off the phone with you, and I need some space. We will talk about this after Christmas break. Maybe, you’ll have a better lie by then,” I said calmly.
“Don’t you hang up thi---,” he said before I hung up.
I looked over at Fantasia and Tina who were in complete shock about how that conversation went. I blocked him from calling me and contacting me on social media right then. My friends did the same.
“You OK? I just can’t believe him, playing the victim. I know what I saw. He is just a coward; I hope you don’t go back to that bastard. He really needs to grow up and take responsibility for his actions,” Tina divulged.
As a response I nodded and just sighed. I couldn’t believe this was my life. I seriously have the worst luck with men.
“You don’t have to do this. You could just tell your folks, and they would help you. We would help you raise this baby. You don’t need him. You got us. It might be extremely hard to get your degree, but I have faith in you,” Fantasia said.
“Look, I have already screwed this kid over enough, and it would be pure torture to let that child be raised by us. Of course, he would have to be a part of this child’s life if I was keeping it. I’m just so heartbroken, and I refuse to keep a baby just to see if he will act right,” I said.
“Well, let’s go in,” Fantasia said.
“Are you sure about this? We can always leave,” Tina reassured me.
“No, I’m ready,” I said firmly.