Author: Angie

Immortal Redemption Immortal Protectors Book 1 by Alana Delacroix Genre: Paranormal Romance Print Length: 355 pages Publisher: Self-Published Publication Date: October 15, 2019

Cal Olin is a grudging member of the Immorti. A resurrected Aztec warrior, he knows he has much to atone for but doesn’t believe waiting for an enemy who hasn’t appeared in hundreds of years is the best way to do it. He’d prefer to spend his time in his CEO role with Civica, an organization dedicated to righting wrongs. However, when Cal sees the unconscious body of a woman near a magical portal, he knows the long period of peace has come to an end. He’s shocked to discover the woman is Dr. Iliana Rogers, Civica’s second-in-command. The beautiful, argumentative thorn in his side has managed to open the gate and set off a chain reaction that could end the world. Is she an agent of evil or an unknowing pawn? He has to find out. Nightmares have taken over Iliana’s dreams and with Cal, she no longer feels alone. But when he breaks into her house and tells her, incredibly, that he’s immortal, she knows she’s been living an illusion. It’s a shock to find out he was telling the truth and that her own mother was an agent of the malevolent Nilohum—and that she herself is fated to end the world. As Iliana searches for the truth, Cal struggles with a terrible choice: does he help the woman he loves, or does he stop the end of the world and risk Iliana’s love…and life? **Only .99 cents!!**Add to Goodreads Amazon * Apple * B&N * Google * Kobo

Alana Delacroix is a paranormal romance writer based in Toronto, Canada. Her Masked Arcana trilogy is available through Kensington’s Lyrical Press, and her Immortal Protector series launches Fall 2019. She is an introvert’s introvert who loves true crime, war, and horror podcasts and is very paranoid. Alana is also addicted to advice columns. Website * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads $10 Amazon

Cal pulled her close and she let him, wanting to believe him and hating herself for being weak. “I can tell
you again and again but I know that the trust will need to be rebuilt,” he said. “I will do that. I swear I
will. I can’t lose you. You’re mine.”
This time, he leaned down and kissed her, but it wasn’t soft or gentle. It was hard and searching and the
kiss she craved. His fear and her anger, all tied up in her absolute need for him and overwhelming in its
intensity.
*
“Why are you telling me this?” Iliana asked.
Cal turned to her. “Are you a completely good person or bad person?”
“Neither,” she admitted.
“Kynot is a god who deals in absolutes. You are not a god.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Your humanity is your strength. You are a complex, irritating, wonderful, astonishing, beautiful
person, like so many other people. Perhaps they are selfish. Perhaps they are not worthy. Perhaps they are.
Like you.”

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The Collector by Stjepan Varesevac Cobets Genre: SciFi Thriller

They were kidnapped. Nobody knows where they are. They all receive instructions to follow the path through the forest. What they discover will come as a true shock. The truth is hidden under a veil of secrets. Goodreads * Amazon

Stjepan Varesevac-Cobets was born on 12 September 1965 in Split, Croatia. He lives and works in Kastel Sucurac, where he finished his elementary and secondary schooling. At a very young age, he started reading and loved it because, through books, he traveled to places he could never visit in person. As a child, he loved fairy tales and adventure but later discovered other genres. When he found a Jules Verne book in the library, he became fascinated by science fiction. He has been writing poetry for fifteen years and has started writing science fiction. Lately, he has also written children’s fairy tales and fables. He has published, in Croatia, “An Opened Heart” in 2002, “The Sleepy Way” in 2005, and “Love” in 2006. On Amazon he has published the poetry collections “The Child of Happiness” in 2015, science fiction novel “Godeena” in 2015, the science fiction short story “Butterfly” in 2016, the poetry collection “When the moon takes over the dream: Love Poetry” in 2016, and in 2017 the poetry collection “The Flaming Horses: Collection of poetry”. He also translated his new Sci-Fi novel “The Dream of the Forest”. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Amazon * Amazon * Goodreads $25 Amazon

George S. Braham awakened from a disturbing dream. His head, his head was paining
so terribly and his stomach revolted with nausea. With great difficulty, he tried to squint, but the
bright light made him close his eyes immediately. George tried to remember what happened last
night in Berlin, but all was a haze. It was his last free day before going to the dangerous terrain
in Afghanistan. He wanted to go out into the city to divert the disturbing thoughts from his
head. The situation on the ground was bad and didn’t encourage him. A few in their unit had
been wounded when they exchanged fire with rebels.
Berg Bar seemed to be an ideal place to drink in peace, not very crowded most of the
time. George wanted to relax a little, but he went to the field. He was too concerned. He had to
return urgently to his unit, due to the new situation. George was sure he had only drunk two
whiskeys before he left the bar. He was convinced that the two drinks couldn’t knock him down,
he tolerated alcohol well. Angrily he wondered: “What the heck did the waitress put in my
drink?”

He tried to get up, but it was impossible. Every muscle in his body painfully pulsed
and trembled; his legs and hands were heavy as lead. After ten minutes, George started to
panic because of no matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t bring his body to move. He
slowed down his breathing and listened. He could hear a soft hum but couldn’t point out its
location. The entire space seemed to be buzzing and vibrating. Soon, all sounds ceased, and
he trembled tensely, waiting to see what will happen. Suddenly, the pain and pressure in his
head disappeared. He carefully opened his eyelids.
The first thing he saw was the bundle of thin, transparent tubes hanging from the ceiling.
When he lifted his head and looked at their ends, he noticed that he was completely naked.
Yellow liquid flowed through tubes connected to his body by wide flap-shaped ends. An
uneasy feeling seeped through his spine as he realized a bunch of pipes were stirring over his
body. Suddenly, with an audible plop, the pipes began to separate from his body and retreat into
the hidden opening in the high vault. Terrified, he straightened up into a sitting position and
grabbed his head. What’s going on here? Where the hell am I?

He was in a shallow hollow in a massive, square, white block that reminded him of
stone. The slot was filled with a yellow liquid that slowly dripped onto a block. He had the feeling
that the material, though similar to plastic, absorbed liquid like a sponge. George dipped his
fingers into the liquid and was surprised to find them dry when taking them out. While he was
trying to figure out what kind of fluid that was, a new shuffling sound startled him. From the
corner of the wall across from him, ten centimeters of thick, white shelf slowly started to
emerge. On it were neatly folded clothes and a large hiking backpack. At the same time; on the
wall above the shelf, flashed a sentence written in green letters, “PUT ON YOUR CLOTHES
AND SHOES! PLACE THE REST OF YOUR THINGS IN THE BACKPACK AND WAIT FOR
FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS!“

A slot on the stone block, he was sitting on started to rise, and he instinctively
jumped to his feet. Although his legs were unstable and trembling, he walked to the nearest wall
and touched the surface with the tips of his fingers. He hoped to find an exit to escape from this
room and from the madman who sent him these messages. His research was interrupted by a
painfully screeching sound that made him cover his ears with his hands. The light shut off in the
room, and the inscription on the wall blinked red with a new command, “SINCE YOU ARE NOT
RESPECTING THE GUIDELINES, WE USED FIRST PRECAUTION WARNINGS. IN CASE OF
FURTHER INSUBORDINATION, THE PENALTY FOR DISOBEDIENCE WILL BE MORE
SEVERE.”

Despite the splitting pain in his head, George angrily cursed: “Go to hell, you
and your—” But he didn’t get to finish the sentence. The pain in his
head became unmanageable. His eyes filled with tears and he fell to his knees.

“THE PENALTY WILL BE MUCH WORSE IF YOU CONTINUE TO RESIST. GET
DRESSED, AND PLACE THE REST OF THE THINGS AND EQUIPMENT IN YOUR
BACKPACK. FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS WILL BE GIVEN SOON…”

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Sleepless Nights 168 Horror, Mystery, Thriller, and Suspense Short Stories by Tobias Wade Publisher: Haunted House Publishing LLC Publication Date: February 1, 2019 The news said 33 miners were trapped when the mine collapsed. And why wouldn’t they? 33 people were pulled out of the ground. The men were buried 700 meters below the surface. There was no way in or out. But the miners who were rescued all said the same thing: They said there were only 32 miners during the cave in. That they counted and they counted—every day—every few hours to make sure everyone was taken care of. Then one day they count again, and there were 33. A stranger was in their midst. Something escaped from the earth during that rescue that never should have seen the light of day. Demons, monsters, psychopaths, undead, mad-experiments, and terrifying paranormal encounters. The last confession from a serial killer will take your breath away. Why should you be afraid to leave an audio-recorder on overnight? What could go wrong if you meet the Devil on Tinder? Why does your reflection smile more than you do? The Grim Reaper’s scythe isn’t to harvest you. He’s there to protect you from what’s waiting on the other side. Early readers are saying: “As a huge horror nut I love being freaked out of my mind, being taken for a dark spin, and then being left with goosebumps dotted on my skin.” ★★★★★ Review “From the first story to the last, this book was enjoyable in that spine- tingling kind of way. It’s been a very long time since I’ve read anything that has wormed its way into my brain and had me thinking about it hours or days later.” ★★★★★ Review “I swear there isn’t a clunker on here. You’d think even a solid compilation would have one or two lame ducks, but every last story in here is thrilling and terrifying and fantastic.” ★★★★★ Review Fast, exciting, satisfying stories, filled with compelling mysteries and shocking twists. Mega-collection with 168 chilling stories, over 700 pages include Amazon-Bestselling Collections 51, 52, and 53 Sleepless Nights, as well as 12 bonus tales from Brutal Bedtime Stories. Easy to fit in a story during the day, or to keep you awake all night long. Grab a copy now. Goodreads * Amazon

Former neuroscience researcher, born again horror writer. During my studies, it struck me as odd that I could learn so much about why humans behave without understanding the intricacies of human nature. It occurred to me that I learned more about the depths of human experience from reading Dostoyevsky than I ever had from my text books, and I was inspired to write. Download my horror collection for free and see all my publications at: TobiasWade.ComWebsite * Facebook * Twitter * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

While I was alive I wouldn’t experience death, so there is no reason to be afraid. When I was dead, I
wouldn’t be capable of experiencing anything, so fear still has no cause. That thought brought me great
comfort as I felt the last erratic struggle from my heart against the inevitable conclusion I approached. It
wasn’t until I was finally drifting off to sleep that a final intrusive doubt bubbled in my brain:
What if it isn’t death which is to be feared? What if it is what lies beyond?
And so troubled did I slip beyond mortal understanding, stepping into a world as far forsaken by reason
as I was now from life. I was still in the hospital room, but the bustle of nurses and the beeping machines
lost their opacity as though I was mired in swiftly-descending dusk. It seemed as though every sound was
an echo of what it once was; every sight a reflection. With each passing moment, the world was becoming
less real….

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Daughter of Rage and Beauty Berserker Academy Book 1 by Amy Pennza Genre: Urban Fantasy Romance Publisher: Scribble Pretty Books Publication Date: November 4, 2019

The sagas claim you can’t fight fate. I’m determined to prove them wrong. They say your twenties are supposed to be the best years of your life. Clearly, they don’t know what they’re talking about. Because right now, my life is in shambles. As the daughter of one of the most powerful berserkers in the world, I should be taking my place among the noble guild of berserker assassins. By now, I should have mastered my emotions and conquered my rage—all the better to use it as a weapon when called upon to kill. But I’m not just Harald Berregaard’s daughter. My mother was a nymph, which makes me a magical mutt. When I was born, my father thought I might possess the best traits from both races. He was wrong. Now he’s shipping me off to the Berserker Academy, where the unofficial motto is “graduate or die.” Nice, huh? With the stakes this high, I can’t afford to get distracted. Too bad the academy’s headmaster keeps showing up at the most inconvenient moments, reminding me how much I suck at magic. And fighting. And basic conversation. It doesn’t matter that he does it with a smile. Or that his eyes fire silver when he’s amused . . . or aroused. Hauk Sigridsson has his own problems. He’s not going to be one of mine. On the other hand, he’s offered me a way to accelerate my studies and make it out of the academy alive. I just have to help him steal a priceless rock and defeat one of the most powerful immortals to have ever lived. No big deal. I’m in way over my head, but I’m determined to survive. They say you can’t fight fate. I’m going to show fate exactly what I’m made of. Goodreads * Amazon

Amy Pennza has been a lawyer, a soldier, and a copywriter. She’s worn combat boots and high heels in the same 24-hour period–and she definitely prefers flip flops. Actually, she prefers going barefoot while writing steamy romances about strong women and alpha men with hearts of gold. After years in Tornado Alley, she now makes her home in the Great Lakes region with her husband, kids, and more baskets than any one person should own. (You can never have enough.) Keep up with new releases, news, and giveaways by visiting www.amypennza.com Want free books and other fun stuff? Sign up for Amy’s newsletter at www.amypennza.com/subscribeWebsite * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads * Newsletter

My face was hot.
I squinted. Wait, no, I didn’t.
Because my eyes were closed. Opening them seemed like a lot of work, so I let them stay
shut.
Except my face was really hot. Not my whole face, just the left side.
Which was kind of weird.
And something smelled amazing. My stomach rumbled.
Shit. I was probably going to have to open my eyes. How else was I going to find the
source of the amazing smell?
There was a faint shuffling sound, like a person walking across a stone floor. That’s what
it sounded like when someone crossed the floor at Bjørneskalle.
Oh no. Was I back at the castle? Because I was supposed to be somewhere else . . . In my
mind, I reached for the place, but it remained just out of reach. Frustration swept me.
The shuffling happened again, closer this time.

No, not closer. Louder. Because my hearing was returning.
Slowly, my senses cleared, my consciousness going from a dreamlike state to full
awareness. I opened my eyes and gazed at a . . . stone ceiling?
I sat up—
—and the blanket covering me fell to my waist, exposing my breasts.
I gasped and snatched it back up, pressing it to my throat. My heart pounded. After a
second, I pulled the blanket away and peered down my body.
Yep. I was bare-ass naked.
“Elin?”
I slammed the blanket back to my chest.
Hauk stood on the other side of a roaring fire, a plate of food in his hands. Behind him,
rough stone walls revealed we were in some kind of cave. He’d removed his coat and boots,
wearing just his body-hugging long underwear. The material clung to his chest and thighs,
revealing the muscle beneath. His hair was tied high on his head, the topknot damp and darker
than usual.
He started toward me. “You okay?”
“Stop!”
He stopped, alarm on his face.
“What happened to my clothes?”
His features relaxed. “Oh. They’re drying.” He jerked his head toward a spot past the fire.
“It should only take another hour or so.”

I followed his gesture. Sure enough, my gear was spread over a flat expanse of
rock—everything from my jacket to my socks and the black thong I’d pulled from my duffel that
morning. My cheeks heated, the right side of my face now just as hot as the left.
Hauk rounded the fire, his expression one of someone approaching a wounded animal in
the wild. His feet were bare—and, naturally, his toes were elegant and well-formed. Because he
couldn’t have just one ugly feature. Of course not. That would have meant there was justice in
the universe.
He crouched at my side and lowered the plate to the ground. “You should eat. We burned
a ton of calories today.”
“What happened?”
Understanding lit his gaze. “You got hypothermia. It’s my fault. I should have layered
you up with more gear. I think your dryad blood might have had something to do with it. You
crave light and warmth.”
Annoyance buzzed in my mind. Since when was he an expert on dryads? “I grew up in
Norway. It’s hardly known for its abundance of light and warmth.”
He frowned. “I just meant the extreme cold might affect you more. And this is no
ordinary cold. Didn’t you feel it?”
“I felt really freaking cold, yeah.”
“No, it was more than that. The storm out there is beyond anything natural. Radegast
must have bespelled this whole area.”
Great. I pressed a flat palm against my chest, holding the blanket there. “Why couldn’t
we just portal straight to his fortress? We have the coordinates.”

Hauk shook his head. “He’s set traps everywhere. That’s one of the things I learned when
I researched him.” He looked around the cave. “I got us as close as I could without alerting him.
We’ll have a bit of a walk in the morning, but it shouldn’t be anything like today.”
“You plan to sleep here tonight?”
He looked at me. “Well, yeah. Unless you want to try breaching his fortress in the dark.
Besides, you need to rest.” He gulped. “You scared me, Elin. For a while there, I wasn’t sure I
could feel your heart beating. Your skin was like ice when I brought you in here.”
He would know, considering he’d stripped me naked. Had he looked at me? Done a little
assessing of my chances of seducing Radegast?
“I’d like something to wear,” I said.
“You can’t put wet things back on right now.”
“Then give me something of yours.”
He looked startled. “You want me to take my shirt off?”
“It’s better than wearing a blanket! I can’t believe you”—I lowered my voice as
embarrassment crashed over me—“you took all my clothes off!”
“I had to.” Two spots of color appeared high on his cheeks. He lowered his gaze to my
chest, as if he couldn’t help it, then jerked his gaze off to my right. “I had to rub the circulation
back into your limbs.”
He’d rubbed me? Naked? I pointed across the fire. “I want you to go stand over there.”
“You’re joking.”
“Go!”
He clenched his jaw, then stood and stalked to the other side of the fire. “You’re being
ridiculous. I was trying to save your life. There wasn’t anything sexual about it.”

“You could have left my underwear on.”
“Don’t be a child, Elin.”
Outrage surged in my throat, nearly choking me. I scrambled to my feet. “You have a lot
of nerve calling me a child!”
“Oh yeah? Then don’t act like one.”
I took a few steps around the fire. “Like you’re some beacon of maturity.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know what it means.”
He rested his fingertips on his hips. He should have looked ridiculous, standing there in
skin-tight long underwear.
But he didn’t. Which just made my anger burn higher.
“No, I really don’t,” he said, sarcasm heavy in his voice. “Why don’t you enlighten me?”
My cheeks blazed, but I didn’t care. I lifted my chin. “You masturbated in front of me
last night. You call that mature?”
A humorless smile touched his lips. “You can call it whatever you want. All I know is
you loved it.”
My gasp was loud in the cave. “I did not.”
“You did.” He raked his eyes down my body in a deliberate slide. “And you were so wet
I could practically smell it.”
The air shifted. It seemed to grow thicker, as if it had a pulse. The atmosphere seemed to
buzz with an electrical charge.
It was primal. Unruly and wild.
It had consequences. As if Hauk and I were on the edge of something inevitable.

And the air itself knew it.
My heart pounded against my fist holding the blanket. The air danced over my skin, faint
flashes of power licking at my arms, my legs, my chest.
I drew an unsteady breath as I met Hauk’s stare. “You flatter yourself. I didn’t want it,
and I don’t want you.”
He stepped toward me, and a dangerous light entered his eyes. “Oh, you fucking did. And
you fucking do.”
I clutched the blanket tighter over my breasts. “Do not.” Even as I said it, images from
the shower flashed in my mind. Heat blossomed low in my belly.
“You do.” He took another step, his lips curved in a wicked smile that didn’t reach his
eyes. “You little liar.”
I backed up. “Stop that.”
He kept coming. Beside us, the fire crackled and danced. He lowered his voice. “You
were aching for it, Elin.” He lowered his gaze to my thighs. “You wanted me inside you.”
My nostrils flared. “You’re wrong.” But my voice was weak and breathless. Between my
legs, moisture gathered.
“I bet,” he said, still stalking me, “if I pulled that blanket aside, I’d find you wet and
aching for it right now.”
“You wouldn’t. I-I mean, I’m n-not.”
“Prove it.”
I took another step back, my bare feet sliding against rock. “You’re crazy.”
“Yeah.” He gave a huff of laughter. “You’re probably right about that. I’ve felt crazy
since the day we met.” He drew closer, and lightning flared in his eyes. “Crazy about you.”

I stopped. My nipples ached. The fire blew warm air up the blanket, teasing at my damp
sex.
“Take off that blanket,” he said, tiny forks of electricity sizzling across his irises—a
reminder that he wasn’t just Crom Cruach’s son. His mother had felled armies. Had stalked
across ancient battlefields, lightning webbing the sky above her.
Now, the son of a god and a legendary berserker had me in his sights.
I swallowed. “No.”
He put his shoulders back, his chin lifted. With the flames dancing beside us, he looked
every bit as proud and haughty as his father.
And just as dangerous.
“Take it off.”
My limbs seemed to move of their own accord. Slowly, I loosened my grip on the
blanket. The fabric slipped to the ground. I let my arms fall to my sides.
He took his time looking me over. Starting with my feet, he drew his gaze up my body,
pausing at the secret spot between my legs.
Warmth surged there, and I bit back a whimper.
He closed the distance between us as he continued his long perusal. When his gaze
reached my breasts, he stopped inches away. He lifted his hand and touched the tip of one taut
nipple.
His hand trembled just a bit, exposing his bluster.
“Ah, Elin. You are perfection.” He lifted his gaze to mine. Lightning streaked across his
eyes.
I pushed my chest out, desperate for more contact.

He closed his fingers around my nipple, pinching the sensitive peak. Desire streaked
through my breast. Instantly, my nipples became tighter, the pink tips proud and distended.
I gasped. I started to throw my head back, but Hauk tangled his other hand in my hair,
catching my nape.
“No, no. Look at me.”
The command in his voice made me even wetter.
His nostrils flared.
Beside us, the fire leapt, sparks shooting from the tops of the flames.
He held me that way for a moment, hard fingers locked on my nipple, his free hand
gripping the back of my neck. He rolled the peak, then pinched harder. He kept his gaze on my
face, watching my reaction. The contrast between us—me nude, him fully clothed—only
heightened my arousal. My sex clenched, my clit throbbing. The urge to rub my thighs
together—to create any kind of friction—was overwhelming.
He rolled me again, his swordsman’s calluses abrasive against my sensitive skin. He
squeezed harder and raised his hand, forcing me onto my toes.
I wriggled, caught and quivering like a fish on a hook. “Please . . .”
“Please, what?” he whispered. “What do you want?”
Something. Anything! I wanted him to lower his mouth to my chest and suckle me. I
wanted to grab his head and push him down to my sex, to feel his mouth on the hot skin between
my legs.
My sex throbbed. At the bottom edge of my vision, his big hand held me. My other
nipple poked from my chest, the tip begging for his touch. My breasts seemed bigger, rounder, as
if they preened under his admiring gaze.

“What do you want, Elin?” He pinched harder, making my eyes water.
I answered on a sob. “More.”
“Then I’ll give it to you.” He tugged my nipple gently, pulling me into him. When my
belly brushed his crotch, he released me and ran his hands over my hair, his touch reverent.
My bare breasts nudged against his shirt, the slick fabric gliding against my stiffened
nipples. Heat poured off him, warming me. Even so, goosebumps pebbled my skin.
“You’re cold,” he murmured, sliding his palms up my arms. With light pressure, he
pushed my shoulders down.
I sank to my knees, bringing my face even with the thick bulge between his legs. His
thermal underwear were little more than tights, and the material left nothing to the imagination.
A tingle of apprehension drifted through me. He was a big boy, his shaft long and heavy
against his inner thigh, a damp patch on the fabric near the crown.
Before I could give it much thought, he knelt in front of me. Then he guided me
backwards. “Lie down on your back.”
Confusion swamped me. “What—”
“Shhh. I need to taste you.”
The confusion fled, replaced with a gripping awareness. There was no question what he
wanted. “Hauk . . .”
He lay me back, taking time to gather my hair so it wouldn’t get caught under my
shoulders. When I was prone, he sat back on his heels, his gaze on my raised knees.
Protests gathered in my throat. I couldn’t let him do this. Could I?
Moving slowly, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside.
Then he let me look my fill.

I took advantage. The fire painted him in bold colors, rippling over defined pecs and
ripped abs. His beard seemed to glitter in the firelight, little highlights of gold sparkling against
his firm jaw. With his hair pulled back, his high cheekbones and straight nose were sharper and
more defined. His broad shoulders rose and fell in a steady rhythm, his muscles rippling as he
watched me.
The rock was warm beneath me. More heat trickled between the lips of my sex. I was hot
and swollen there, my clit throbbing with its own beat.
His glittering blue gaze fastened on mine, challenging me to say no.
I knew I didn’t have the willpower to deny him.
He knew it, too.

Rune necklace

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Putting the Pieces Together Growing Roots Book 4 by Chelsea Falin Genre: YA Coming of Age Publication Date: October 27, 2019

Living a “normal” life doesn’t always mean that things will always be good. Bad things happen to even the best of people, and this is a life lesson Willie must now learn when tragedy strikes her close-knit group of friends. As she continues to grow and change, Willie knows that she is far from the girl who arrived in Oklahoma little over a year ago. She’s growing, changing, and working on putting the pieces together in her life – just as her friends struggle to do the same. “You never know, Willie. Death doesn’t discriminate by age or gender or social status. It’s one of the few things that doesn’t care. When it comes for you, it comes. It could be today, tomorrow, or a hundred years from now, but when your time is up, it’s up. There’s nothing you can do to change that.”-Dakota Praise for the ‘Growing Roots Series’: “a great lesson in the way life can change at any time” “an eye-opener for teenagers and older adults alike” “Chelsea Falin is a great story-teller. With her clear descriptions of the characters, settings and dialogue, it was not difficult for me to imagine the characters and to picture every scene.” Goodreads * Amazon

Great Strides Growing Roots Book 3 Publication Date: April 1, 2014

Willie has finally found her father, and he’s welcomed her with open arms. Now she must forge a relationship with the man she never even knew was alive. It isn’t just him, however, Willie must also find out how she fits in with her step-mother and half-siblings. Left in Alabama with no close-in-age peers, Willie makes great strides in finding out who she is as an individual without a group of close friends to rely on. Alabama offers many firsts for Willie. The most notable in her own mind is her first relationship. There are other firsts in store, however, and a whole new cast of characters to get to know. How will Willie handle this newest experience? Will she handle it in the mature the way she has always handled change? Or will this be the point in which Willie loses herself? “Genetics are a tricky business at times, and you just never know what you’re going to get when you throw two ancestry’s together.” -Willie’s Mamaw Add to GoodreadsAmazon * B&N * Kobo

Personal Growth Growing Roots Book 2 Publication Date: March 18, 2013

Willie, despite a rough start, has become immersed in the culture she should have been born into. As she grows in her own knowledge of her ancestral roots, she also grows in who she is as a person. All things are now within her reach, and all she must do is put forth a little effort. With all of this in mind, Willie has decided to dedicate herself towards her own ‘Personal Growth.’ “Our heritage might be bloody, but that’s no reason not to be proud!” -Spike ~~~ ‘Personal Growth’ is the second installment in the fairly popular indie series, Growing Roots. It is the sequel to ‘Less Than Humble Beginnings.’ Here is what people have said about the series: “The characters are believable and realistic.” “Chelsea used concise descriptions of her characters which made it very easy to imagine their interactions.” “Chelsea Falin is a great story-teller. With her clear descriptions of the characters, settings and dialogue, it was not difficult for me to imagine the characters and to picture every scene. With her excellent weaving of words, the world of Willie came alive as if I’m watching a movie.” “Being a teenager is never easy, and Willie’s internal struggles were easy to relate to.” Add to GoodreadsAmazon * B&N * Kobo

Less Than Humble Beginnings Growing Roots Book 1 Publication Date: November 24, 2012

Willie and Babette have long, long been shielded from their own culture and heritage by their mother. When circumstances change, the girls are thrown into what they were once shielded from – only to find it is nothing like they once believed. While Babette adjusts easily, Willie finds herself much more hesitant. While she struggles to find her true self, Willie is forced to learn she is not the only one suffering from “Less Than Humble Beginnings.” “Try to remember everyone here has their demons, but we put those demons to good use. Make ourselves better, stronger, wiser.” – Jack Add to GoodreadsAmazon * B&N * Kobo

Chelsea Falin is the 25 year old independent author of well over ten titles. She began writing with intents to publish in 2006, at age 16, and finally published in 2009, at age 19. Chelsea writes in a variety of genres, including but not limited to: romance, young adult, comedy, cooking, poetry, and dramatic fiction. Professionally, Chelsea is also a freelance blog/article writer, web designer, and book blogger. In her personal life, Chelsea is the mother of a six year old daughter. In her free time, she enjoys reading, writing, fishing, hiking, biking, traveling, and spending time with her friends or family. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Pinterest * Amazon * Goodreads $20 Amazon

“Willie!” The excited voice was from above me and when I turned to look, I stared straight at
Spike. He grabbed my outstretched hands to lift me off the ground and immediately pulled me into a
tight squeeze. He lifted me off the ground and spun me around once. I laughed and shook my head at
his dramatic display of affection. “Miss me?” Spike grinned.
I shook my head. “Nah. Why would I do that?”
Spike shook his head and laughed. I realized his hair was down and pulled back from his face. I’d
never see him wear his hair that way, but realized it was probably a requirement wherever he worked.
His eyes shimmered happily as he looked at me. He released me and took a step back. “Let’s see here.”
He eyed me from my toes to the top of my head studiously.
“What the hell are you doing, Spike?” I asked, suddenly feeling I needed to be more clothed.
“Why, seeing how much you’ve grown, of course.” He clucked softly as he shook his head.
“Much too much.”
“Much too much what?”
“You’ve grown much too much, Willie dear. You look like a woman now.” He paused. “Almost…
there’s still some innocence about you that tells me nobody has quite made you a woman yet.” Spike
winked and laughed when I blushed again.
I huffed. “And you still behave like a little boy.” Even as I said the statement, I stole a glance at
him. He wore only an undershirt and a pair of black work pants. I noticed his arms seemed stronger and
his chest seemed more defined. It was then I noticed the large, black tattoo of a phoenix on his upper
left arm. “When did you get a tattoo?” I exclaimed.
Spike laughed. “A few weeks ago. To celebrate. Like it?” He turned so he could show it off. The
phoenix was done in tribal fashion, with thick black swirling lines creating both the bird and flames. It
took up most of his upper arm.
I reached out and touched it. “I love it! It’s strangely you.” I grinned, then asked, “What were
you celebrating?”
Spike grimaced. “Uh, we’ll talk about that later, huh?”
I shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”
Spike kissed my cheek exaggeratedly before he left to “clean the work off” as he put it. I looked
up and noticed Jack staring at me from across the yard. His expression was unreadable as he took
another long drink from his beer. He shook his head softly as he turned back to the young couple he still
talked with.
“What? I don’t get any love?” I hadn’t seen Dakota standing there during my exchange with
Spike. Maybe he’d just walked up.
“Dakota!” I embraced him with a tight hug, and he squeezed back.

Smiling, Dakota said, “I’ve missed you, kid. Things aren’t the same without you around anymore.
You’re really one of the guys…” Dakota trailed off and grinned. “Well, you’re one of the guys but you’ve
become decidedly female. When the hell did that happen?”
I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Why does everyone keep saying that? I didn’t change that much.”
“Oh, yes you did.” Dakota grinned. “Externally, anyways. I hope you’ve stayed your lovable
smart-mouth self on the inside.”
I laughed heartily. “Why yes, I think I have.”
“Good.” Dakota slapped my back like I was one of the guys. “And now, dear Willie, I need to get
cleaned up. I feel like I’ve been dipped in a bucket of sweat.”
I wrinkled my nose. “You smell like it, too.”
“Enjoyable, isn’t it?” He laughed and strode off into the house after Spike. I stood shaking my
head silently before deciding to join my cousins at the now-lit campfire.

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