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I just don’t know what I want.
I think of everything I’ve been told I want—money, clothes, a modeling career, an acting career, and an intelligent husband who will run the company in order to give me even more money. But not one of those things has ever made me happy. I try to think about things that have made me happy—my family and Scarlett. But that leaves me with fewer answers.
I know what I don’t want.
I don’t want a modeling career.
I don’t want an acting career.
I don’t want to marry a complete stranger.
I try to think of my happiest memory with my dad. It was on my eighteenth birthday. It coincided with my high school graduation. He took me to a casino in California, one I could legally gamble at. He taught me how to play blackjack and how to count cards. We won—a lot. It wasn’t the winning that made it fun. It was learning something from my father. It was the confidence he displayed in me when he gave me high amounts of money to place a bet that I would win because I was capable. It was one of the only times I felt he was proud of me for something other than my looks.
The line I will never forget my father saying to me is, “No one would ever suspect you of counting cards. You’re too pretty.”
It was that day that I learned that my beauty was a weapon that could be used to my advantage. I just have never learned how to harness it.
I head to my room to grab my shoes and purse to head to a casino, to find a happy memory…because, tomorrow, I’ll meet the man I’m going to marry. Tomorrow, I’ll have to face the fact that I don’t get to decide my own future, but I don’t have to today. I still have a chance to make today better. I was wrong. Today isn’t the worst day of my life. Tomorrow probably will be, so I’m going to make the most of my last night of freedom.
I’ve been on a one-track rail to landing Paislee in my bed since she got off the plane. Not that it’s been planned, but I convinced her that Pizza Pazza in Tampa is better than Mamma Lucia’s in Calceth. I told her about Simon during dinner, one thing led to another, and here I am unlocking the door to my duplex and letting her enter first.
She hasn’t commented on how we took my car from her hotel, how she’s basically dependent on me and my whims. But hey, I’m fucked too; it wasn’t my choice to have someone fill my head, and I didn’t ask that person to come to Florida.
We haven’t talked about tomorrow’s schedule, but I’m going to the rich dude’s house with her. He could be a total freak for all I know, so she’s not facing him alone.
“Oooh,” she whispers through a reverent puff of air like she’s never seen a cat before. Simon’s playing it up too, slinking around the corner with all the grace in the universe, stroking the doorjamb with a hip before he meanders over to us. “He’s soooo beautiful.”
“He’s just a regular old black street cat,” I say, but by the wink she shoots me, she doesn’t buy it. She read me back when too. “’Kay, fine: Simon’s awesome. Straight up the best pelt ever.”
“Pelt? You ass,” she giggles as she pets him from the top of his head and down the length of his body to his tail. Simon lifts it, happy. Any minute now, he’ll crank the volume on his purr-machine.
“Wow, he purrs loud.”
And there. For a cat, he’s being unexpectedly predictable.
“He loves the ladies,” I say, which makes her giggle more. I love to make her giggle. When she stands up again, I pull her in with one arm, fingers splayed across her spine. Firm breasts press against me, and I groan a little.
She puffs another laugh, all Simon’s fault. He’s gotten to the part of the agenda where he’s going to cramp my style. His purrs reach us from the floor, and he’s scissoring in and out between both of our legs.
“Never mind him. Look at me,” I whisper. Let my thumb and forefinger slide over her chin. The amusement recedes from her eyes when she sees that I mean business. I’m hardening. She yelps. Then she laughs out loud.
“Simon, quit it!” I say, exasperated, and bend to unhook his claws from the fabric over her knees. “I’m sorry. You see how it is now, right?
Obviously, I’m digging my own grave here. There’s no hot lovemaking when your girl’s laughing so hard she’s about to pee herself.
A Nun Walks into a Bar
Tracey Jane Jackson
After growing up in an abbey, orphan Sadie Ross becomes Sister Abigail Eunice. Her life and career are on track until a chance meeting with a handsome stranger in a place no nun should ever go.
Ryder Carsenâs sister is missing, and he doesnât have time for distractions. But when a pretty nun walks into his bar, he canât ignore his attraction to her, even though sheâs not the âsisterâ heâs looking for. Heâs relieved when she walks out of his life for what he believes is forever.
Sadieâs life takes a surprising detour when she finds her path crossed with Ryderâs once again. When they are brought back together, Ryder knows heâs found the only woman heâll ever love, but time is running out for his sister.
Will Ryder save his sister from the men who took her?
When a source far too close to home threatens Sadie, will she trust Ryder enough to let him save her too?
Sister Abigail Eunice
I HAVE BEEN told I look like Mila Kunis, and youâd think this was a good thing, but in my line of work, itâs more of a hindrance. You see, Iâm a nun. Admittedly, Iâm not a very good one, but nonetheless, I am, in fact, a nun.
Which (in a very roundabout way) led me to a tiny, hole-in-the wall bar at the edge of the Pearl District in Portland, Oregon, on a quiet Wednesday night.
I was supposed to be meeting my friend, Laura, for dinner, but as I stepped off the MAX, I realized Iâd gotten off at the wrong stop and, as was my luck, the small wet sprinkle coming from the sky quickly turned into a downpour.
âWell, crap!â I slapped a hand over my mouth and mumbled, âSorry, Lord.â
Seriously, I was the worst nun ever.
Unsure of which street I was on, I took shelter under an awning next to a building with a frog motif, but no other identifying information. Frustrated, I fished my phone out of my purse and tried to figure out where I was. I had a missed call from Laura, and a new voicemail, which I could only guess meant she wouldnât be able to make it.
âHey, lady. Iâm so sorry, Iâm stuck at work and I canât get down to the Pearl for another hour. Do you still want me to try or do you want to resched?â Yes, she said, âresched.â âAnyhoo, text me and let me know what you want to do. Love ya, âbye.â
Laura Chan was my oldest friend. She was actually the only one who knew me before the nunnery, and therefore knew me as Sadie Ross, not Sister Abigail Eunice. Lauraâs parents had moved from China, and into the house next door, the summer before second grade. Sheâd spoken very little English, but we still managed to communicate and we roamed the neighborhood, inseparable until my parentsâ death. I adored her, even though she wasnât always reliable. Ever hopeful, however, I always gave people the benefit of the doubt, so here I stood, only slightly protected from the pouring rain. And it was pouring. I fired off a quick text to Laura, pressing send... just as my phone died.
âOh, holy mother ofââ I pulled my sweater closer around me and stepped toward the buildingâs entrance so I could warm up and perhaps borrow a phone, but just as I moved away from the wall, something came loose from above, dropping a bucketâs worth of collected water on my head. I let out a quiet squeak and pulled off my now soaked veil, yanking open the heavy wooden door and slipping inside.
âID,â a gruff voice demanded.
I nodded even though I couldnât see anything in the dark space, reaching into my purse and pulling out my Oregon ID.
A large hand swiped it from me then handed it back. âSister Abigail, you look lost.â
I let out a snort. âYou have no idea. Iâm stranded and my phone died.â
âRyder can call you a cab.â
âOwner.â He nodded toward the back of the building. âHeâs at the bar.â
âDo I really need to go to the bar?â I asked.
âLady, heâs got the number for the only cab company he trusts and if I let you leave in one from a company he doesnât trust, heâll be pissed.â
I gave him a look of mock concern. âThat sounds serious.â
Bouncer dude chuckled. âYeah, heâs got this weird thing about sweet women being protected.â
âWhat about women who arenât sweet?â I challenged.
âThose too.â The bouncer laughed. âBut the sweet ones always seem to get special treatment.â
I smiled. âOkay, Iâll head to the bar.â
I walked past the pool tables, dartboards, and a jukebox playing something with a heavy drumbeat next to the bar, the counter of which ran the length of the building. There werenât a whole lot of patrons, just a few who looked as though they paid weekly rent for their stools. However, I was surprised by the heart motifs hanging and taped up in a few key places. I guess it made sense... Valentineâs Day was tomorrow, so the bar was probably getting ready.
A tall man with his back to me turned and I felt sucker punched. Like, as in, the breath left my body.
His light-blue eyes met mine and seemed to peer into my soul. I froze, unable to take one more step under the weight of his scrutiny. He crossed his arms, keeping eye contact, and I was drawn into his tractor beam-like pull. I inched forward, one baby step at a time, taking in his light-blond hair, a full beardânot quite Portland hipster full, but still sexy-as-heck full. When my gaze landed on his lips he gave me this incredibly delicious sideways smirk, and Lord help me, I wanted him to kiss me.
See? Worst nun ever.
âYou lost, Sister?â
âHow did you know Iâm a nun?â Without my veil, most people just threw pitiful glances at my clothes as though I didnât know how to dress in anything fashionable. I wore a sturdy black wool dress, black tights, and a gray button-up cardigan.
âCouple years of Catholic school. âCourse, I never saw a nun who looked like you, but itâs your shoes that give you away. Itâs always the shoes.â
âOh.â I bit my lip, glancing at my feet. âWell, you got that right. They call them sensible... I call them ugly.â
âNot touchinâ that one.â Ryder smiled. âYou need directions?â
I shook my head. âIâm that tale of woe, Iâm afraid. My friend couldnât make our dinner date and my phone died.â
âYou need a cab?â
âYes, but do you mind if I just warm up for a minute?â
âYou want some tea?â
I couldnât stop a huge smile of relief as I sat on one of the stools. âI would love some tea.â
âGive me your phone and Iâll charge it for you.â
âNo, thatâs okay.â I waved my hand dismissively. âI doubt youâll have a charger that works.â
He chuckled. âYouâd be surprised.â
I pulled out my six-year-old flip phone and slid it to him.
âRight,â he said.
âSolve that one,â I retorted with a giggle.
âOh, you donât think I can?â He pulled open a drawer next to the cash register. After testing several cords against my phone, he let out a, âGotcha!â and faced me again, plugging my phone into the wall. âFound one.â
âHow is that even possible?â
He laughed. âWe never throw anything away and people leave shiâah, stuff here all the time.â
I raised my hands and gave him quiet applause. âWell done, sir. Well done.â
He grinned and handed me a cup of hot water and a couple of tea bags. I was pleasantly surprised to see he had my favorite licorice flavor and steeped it in the water while Ryder went about his business.
âYou look like youâre gearing up for Valentineâs Day,â I said, and sipped my tea.
Ryder shook his head. âNot my choice.â
âArenât you the owner?â
He chuckled. âDoesnât mean Iâm not ruled by my patrons.â
âAh, so not a romantic, then.â
âJust think men should show their women they love âem every day... not wait for one day out of the year. The whole holiday is a farce, in my opinion.â
I smiled. Maybe he was a romantic.
As he freshened my hot water, I wondered what my fellow sisters would think about the predicament Iâd gotten myself into. Granted, they rarely left the abbey, but they also didnât have jobs like I did.
Being a fourth-grade teacher and working for the Catholic school next to our living quarters was a perfect setup for me. Lately, however, Iâd been feeling restless and I know Reverend Mother noticed. In fact, I had a meeting with her in the morning and it sounded serious, so being late or tired would not be an option. Perhaps my ill-fated evening was cut short for a very good reason. Mother always says God works in mysterious ways.
âYou ready for that cab?â
Ryderâs question pulled me from my thoughts and I smiled, shaking my head. âIs it okay if I stick around for a little bit?â
âKnock yourself out.â He glanced at his watch. âBut youâre outta here within the hour. It gets a little rowdy at night.â
âYour bouncer warned me about you.â
I wrapped my hands around the cup, warming them. âHe said youâre very protective of women.â
He glanced behind me and then met my eyes again. âBennie talks too much.â
âMaybe so.â I shrugged and then sipped my tea again.
âWhat do people call you other than âSisterâ?â
âNothing. Iâm Sister Abigail Eunice. Although my parents named me Sadie.â
Now why did I share that? I hadnât used my real name in years.
He leaned against the bar. âPretty.â
My breath caught. âMy parents thought so,â I said once I could speak again.
âBut not you?â
âNo, I like it fine. I guess I donât really think about my name much.â I shrugged. âMy students call me Sister and I donât have many friends outside of... well, outside.â I shook my head. âGosh, that sounds so narrow.â
Ryder grinned. âSheltered perhaps.â
âThatâs very gracious, Ryder.â
He cocked his head. âNever been called gracious before.â
Elbow on the bar, I settled my chin in my palm. âThat surprises me.â
âOf course it does. Youâre a nun.â
âYouâre gracious to everyone, so you assume others will be gracious as well.â
âIâm not gracious to everyone. Iâm a nun, not perfect.â
Ryder shrugged. âFair enough.â
âI should go.â
âProbably a good idea.â He grabbed his cell phone and put it to his ear. âHey. Got time to drop someone home?â He faced me. âWhere do you live?â
âBeaverton. Great. Yeah, five minutes works. Thanks.â Ryder hung up and slid his phone back in his pocket.
âYouâre pretty friendly with the cab company, huh?â I took the last swig of tea and set the cup down.
âOne of my guys is taking you home.â
âI thought you were calling me a cab.â
âCanât let a nun pay the cab fare all the way to Beaverton.â
I frowned. âYou donât think I can pay for cab fare?â
âNot what I said, Sister.â
âWow, you really take this whole I-am-man-hear-me-roar stuff, to a whole ânother level, huh?â
His gaze went to something (or someone) behind me and he nodded. âRideâs here.â
I decided not to argue; probably because it would do absolutely no good, and slid off my stool. âThanks for the tea.â
Somehow, him calling me âSisterâ felt lacking. I took a deep breath. Lordy, I was ridiculous... and I probably needed to confess, but I knew I wouldnât.
Again, worst nun award goes to...
Ryder grabbed my phone and stepped out from behind the bar. âMy numberâs in there if you need anything.â
âWhat would I need?â I asked, and took the phone from him.
He shrugged. âYou never know, Sister. Itâs a resource. Feel free to use it.â
What a strange thing to say.
âThanks for everything, Ryder,â I said, leaving my internal thoughts in my head.
âNo problem.â He nodded toward his friend. âThis is Reese. Heâs gonna take you home.â
Reese was tall, dark, and handsome as they say, but he had an edge about him that made me a little nervous. His hair was longer than Ryderâs and kind of shaggy, and he was quite muscular. I was fairly confident he wouldnât hurt me, but had I met him under different circumstances, I might have declined a ride.
A warm hand settled on my back and I felt a shiver steal down my spine.
âYou okay, Sister?â he asked.
âYouâre safe with him, yeah? You have any issues, you call me.â
âOkay.â I stepped away from his touch and forced a smile. âReese, itâs lovely to meet you. Thank you for the ride.â
âNo problem.â He waved his hand toward the door. âThis way.â
With a backward glance and smile to Ryder, I followed Reese out to the car, grateful he wasnât a big talker. Our conversation consisted of him asking me for my address and me giving it to him. The rest of the ride strictly featured me gripping the door handle (as was my habit). I hated cars and avoided them whenever I could.
It didnât take long to arrive at the rectory and I thanked Reese and climbed out of the car, a little taken aback when he followed. âIâm fine from here.â
âRyderâd kick my aârear if I didnât make sure you made it inside safely.â
âRight, his protection fetish.â
Reese chuckled but didnât comment.
I led him up the brick walkway and to the back of the building where I unlocked the door and stepped inside. âThanks again for the ride.â
âMy pleasure, Sister. Have a good night.â
He walked away, and I closed and locked the door.
New York Times Bestselling Author, Tracey Jane Jackson, was born and raised in New Zealand, and that's where her love of horses was formed. Her grandfather taught her to ride at four years old, and she couldn't get enough.
Her love and passion for Abraham Lincoln and the entire Civil War era might have come from her American father, however, he lays no claim to influencing her. Tracey's mother used to tell her she was simply born in the wrong place in the wrong time.
Tracey hasn't always wanted to write. It took her a long time to get started, but now she doesn't seem to be able to stop, the joy of escaping to the 1860s is too much fun.
She's been happily married and gooey in love with her husband for more than twenty years. They live in the Pacific Northwest with their two sons.
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Obsessive Pimpettes Promotions
Book Title: Heartbreakers and Heroes
Author: Various Authors
Genre: Contemporary romance
Release Date: June 21, 2016
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions
Get your hands on TWELVE sexy HEARTBREAKERS AND HEROES, a brotherhood bound by their troubled youth. A tragedy reminds them of the mentor who taught them all the rules to become a man. But some of them haven’t been following the rules…These TWELVE new novellas from USA Today bestsellers and your favorite contemporary authors are sure get your pulse racing and heart pounding.
HIDING WITH THE HEARTBREAKER by USA Today bestseller by Virginia Nelson Rule: Protect the innocent.
Making people laugh for a living is easy, but when a beautiful stranger needs Aloysius Sutton’s help, he has to find a way to become Jude’s hero.
HOW TO UNBREAK A HEART by USA Today bestseller Jennie Marts
Rule: If you love her, don’t let her go.
Solitary cowboy, Trip Turner finally has a chance to correct the mistakes he made when he let the woman he loved walk out of his life twelve years ago. But now that Bre Wilson is back, will he be able to unbreak her heart?
SECOND CHANCE HERO by Michelle Major
Rule: A real man doesn’t build himself up by tearing someone else down.
Travis Jackson might not be the white knight Hailey Moore needs, but he’ll risk his future to win her heart.
TO BE HER HERO by Tonya Burrows
Rule: A real man always protects the women in his life.
Sixteen years ago, bodyguard Graham Lawson failed to protect Kendall Mills and it cost him her love. He’s not going to make that same mistake twice.
HERO IN DISGUISE by Sharla Lovelace
Rule: A real man doesn’t buy respect, he earns it.
Billionaire playboy Jake Jericho thinks he has it all, until one phone call reminds him otherwise. Can one week in disguise reform this trust fund playboy, or will his deception destroy the only real love he’s ever known?
HER HEARTBREAKER BOSS by Carmen Falcone
Rule: Never leave your woman unsatisfied.
Can Stefano and Roxie resist the heat flaring between them or will working together force them to face their rocky past and give them the happily ever after they deserve?
HOW TO BE A HEARTBREAKER by Codi Gary
Rule: A real man never kisses and tells.
When an A list actor returns to his hometown, old wounds and fresh gossip emerge… along with a second chance at love, if he’s brave enough to stick around.
REFORMING THE HEARTBREAKER by Christine Glover
Rule: A real man never breaks a woman’s heart.
Can Olympic mountain bike champion Ryder Bennett and his public relations rep Addison Carrington keep things professional between them this time around, or will they risk a sexy scandal for a chance at love?
HER UNWANTED HERO by Veronica Forand
Rule: A real man always helps someone in need… he may be the only one who does.
A disenchanted police officer must choose between keeping a woman’s affection or keeping her alive.
ONCE A HEARTBREAKER by T.J. Kline
Rule: A real man never lies, especially to a woman.
Ty Preston ran out on the woman he loved twelve years ago, but now he’s back to prove he’s a changed man. However, Rayne can’t risk getting her heart broken by the cowboy again.
MAKE MINE A HEARTBREAKER by Jodi Linton
Rule: A real man never falls for his friend’s sister… ever.
She’s about to change this playboy’s rule book.
TUTORING THE HEARTBREAKER TO LOVE by Hayson Manning
Rule: A real man never touches the hired help.
Can Savannah teach serial heartbreaker Walker to be domesticated in ten days and convince them that maybe they can have s shot at a ‘them’ or can Walker convince Savannah there can be a ‘them’ on his terms only?
Hayson Manning writes fun and flirty romances with spicy flavor. She loves Princess Bride, hates peas and believes wine goes with everything.
Sharla Lovelace is the bestselling, award-winning author of sexy small-town love stories, including the exciting new Heart Of The Storm series. She's proud to say she lives in Southeast Texas with her retired husband, a tricked-out golf cart, and two crazy dogs.
Veronica ForandA Golden Pen winner in romantic suspense, Veronica Forand is an attorney and a novelist. An avid traveler, she loves to roam across continents with her husband and kids in pursuit of skiing, scuba diving, and finding the perfect piece of chocolate.
Michelle Major is the best selling, award winning author of over a dozen sweet and sexy contemporary romances.
Carmen Falcone writes sexy, edgy, emotional romance. She's addicted to happy endings, sunshine and Ryan Gosling.
by Intisar Khanani
Genre: YA Fantasy
Release Date: June 17th 2013
Summary from Goodreads:
The winding streets and narrow alleys of Karolene hide many secrets, and Hitomi is one of them. Orphaned at a young age, Hitomi has learned to hide her magical aptitude and who her parents really were. Most of all, she must conceal her role in the Shadow League, an underground movement working to undermine the powerful and corrupt Arch Mage Wilhelm Blackflame.
When the League gets word that Blackflame intends to detainâand executeâa leading political family, Hitomi volunteers to help the family escape. But there are more secrets at play than Hitomiâs, and much worse fates than execution. When Hitomi finds herself captured along with her charges, it will take everything she can summon to escape with her life.
In the darkness, something chuckles, a sound like the rustling of dead grasses, the snapping of winter-hardened twigs underfoot.
âAmused?â Kol asks. âI thought you would appreciate her.â
âYour men run like startled rabbits. Their noses even twitch the same way.â
I press my back against the wall, turn my head to face the door, and then slowly, while the lantern still lights the room, slide a glance towards the speaker.
Kol tries to laugh. âHumans.â
The creature doesnât answer. He sits against the far wall, his legs crossed, his back resting against the stones. He is tall and gaunt, so thin his face is but a skull stretched over with skin, his eyes so faintly colored that I can almost imagine they are not even there. His hair falls to his shoulders in a straggly fringe of white. His tunic and pants hang off his frame, and his hands where they rest over his knees are hardly more than bone. If he were human, he would be dead.
Kol says, âYouâll want to know a thing or two about your dinner.â
Title: 223 Bonny Street
Author: Firi Kamson
Genre: Adult, Women's Fiction
Published: March 27, 2016
Release Date: March 22, 2016
Genre: YA paranormal
Tagline: Can history repeat itself if you can’t remember your past?
Seventeen-year-old Cara Tillman’s worst nightmare has come true…
She’s been reborn as a Phoenix and has forgotten everything from her first life—including Logan Schmidt. He’s handsome and protective, but with no recollection, he can’t be trusted.
Accused of being a Hunter, Logan’s mortality is put to the test…
Logan isn’t willing to admit he and Cara are over—not even after he watches her rise from her own ashes.
While the other Phoenixes are convinced Logan is a sworn enemy, a group of deadly Hunters are sure he is a Phoenix. Only being guilty of loving Cara, he must prove them all wrong—and convince Cara she loves him.
However, a magical link may be the demise of Logan’s devotion…
With the Hunters hot on their heels, it’s up to Logan to save Cara. But when the dagger calls out, Logan is drawn to its power.
Cara’s missing memories may not be the only obstacle standing between her and Logan. Their relationship isn’t just complicated—it’s deadly. And when Cara finds herself at a crossroad, she is forced to choose…
She can plunge into the darkness of her treacherous fate, or use her Phoenix instincts to once again rise Out of The Ashes.
Within minutes, everyone is yelling. It feels like it’s all my fault. If only I could remember what happened at the school. Before I woke up in Logan’s arms, all that’s there is a vague memory of Mom, Jeremy, and the other Phoenixes. No actual memories. Only names and faces.
“We all need to calm down,” Linette says, taking a seat on the couch. “Yelling isn’t going to solve anything. We can’t even hear each other.”
“She’s right.” Mom pats my head like I’m a toddler. I guess I am in this life, but I’m still physically seventeen.
I step away, not wanting to touch anyone right now. I know she’s my mom, but she’s just as much a stranger to me as this Logan guy is. He said he loves me. Is that true? Or is he another Hunter, preying on me because I’m a newborn Phoenix? So many questions. That’s all I have, and it’s making my head hurt.
Logan scans the room. “Is anybody going to let me tell you what happened?”
Garret is standing at his side, apparently not willing to let Logan get more than two feet away from him. “I’m sure that would be very entertaining,” Garret says.
“Let him talk.” The words come tumbling out of my mouth. Everyone turns to me, and one corner of Logan’s mouth curves up. I look away, not sure how to act around him. Hell, I don’t know how to act at all. Thank God we only forget everything after our first rebirth because I couldn’t take going through this three more times before I die. If a Hunter doesn’t kill me before I live all five of my lives, that is.
Mom reaches for me, but I take a deep breath and shake my head. “I’m fine. I want to hear what Logan has to say. He was there with me. He didn’t hurt me when I woke up in his arms, so I think I owe it to him to hear him out.”
“You don’t owe anything to a Hunter, Cara,” Garret spits out.
Mom shoots him a look. “Garret, that isn’t helping.”
Logan starts toward me, and Garret grabs him.
“What do you think I’m going to do?” Logan asks, sounding equally frustrated and heartbroken. “I’m handcuffed, my palms are burned to crisps, and the last time I checked, I’m the only human in a room full of Phoenixes.”
Part of me wants to laugh because it sounds crazy, but so does burning to ashes and rising up out of them. Yet, here I am.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kelly Hashway grew up reading R.L. Stein’s Fear Street novels and writing stories of her own, so it was no surprise to her family when she majored in English and later obtained a masters degree in English Secondary Education from East Stroudsburg University. After teaching middle school language arts for seven years, Hashway went back to school and focused specifically on writing. She is now the author of three young adult series, one middle grade series, and several picture books. She also writes contemporary romance under the pen name Ashelyn Drake. When she isn’t writing, Hashway works as a freelance editor for small presses as well as for her own list of clients. In her spare time, she enjoys running, traveling, and volunteering with the PTO. Hashway currently resides in Pennsylvania with her husband, daughter, and two pets.
OTHER BOOK IN THE SERIES