Author: Angie

Liberty by Kim Iverson Headlee Genre: Historical Romance

How hard would you fight for a chance at love across a vast social divide? “Epic.” ~ Drue’s Random Chatter Reviews. Betrayed by her father and sold as payment of a Roman tax debt to fight in Londinium’s arena, gladiatrix-slave Rhyddes feels like a wild beast in a gilded cage. Celtic warrior blood flows in her veins, but Roman masters own her body. She clings to her vow that no man shall claim her soul, though Marcus Calpurnius Aquila, son of the Roman governor, makes her yearn for a love she believes impossible. Groomed to follow in his father’s footsteps and trapped in a politically advantageous betrothal, Aquila prefers the purity of combat on the amphitheater sands to the sinister intrigues of imperial politics, and the raw power and athletic grace of the flame-haired Libertas to the adoring deference of Rome’s noblewomen. When a plot to overthrow Caesar ensnares them as pawns in the dark design, Aquila must choose between the Celtic slave who has won his heart and the empire to which they both owe allegiance. Trusting no man and knowing the opposite of obedience is death, the only liberty offered to any slave, Rhyddes must embrace her arena name, Libertas—and the love of a man willing to sacrifice everything to forge a future with her. WINNER, 2015 BooksGoSocial Best Book. **Only .99 cents until Aug 26^th!!**Add to Goodreads Amazon * Apple * B&N * Google * Kobo

Kim Headlee lives on a farm in southwestern Virginia with her family, cats, goats, Great Pyrenees goat guards, and assorted wildlife. People and creatures come and go, but the cave and the 250-year-old house ruins–the latter having been occupied as recently as the mid-twentieth century–seem to be sticking around for a while yet. Kim has been a published novelist since 1999 with the first edition of Dawnflight (Sonnet Books, Simon & Schuster) and has been studying the Arthurian legends for nigh on half a century. Website * Newsletter * Facebook * Twitter * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

The door shut with a terrifying clang.
“Sir!” She clutched the cold bars, failing to bleed the raw panic from her tone.

The guard paused with the key in the lock.
A hundred questions clamored for release. Every one started with, “Why?”
He frowned as if trying to discern what she’d asked. She wasn’t sure herself. “Why the lock?”
’Twould do, for a start. She nodded.
He scrunched one shoulder. “Lanista Jamil’s orders.” He twisted the key. The lock engaged with a
loud click. “For all warriors—gladiators. And you, Gladiatrix.” He withdrew the key, hooked the ring on his
belt, and stepped away.
“May I know your name, sir?” It felt ungodly strange asking that of a captor, but she hoped to reclaim
a hint of humanity in this inhumane place into which the gods had thrust her.
“Vederi,” he said without breaking stride.
He had disappeared from sight before she realized he hadn’t bothered to ask her name.
So much for humanity.
She sank onto the cot, head in hands and heedless of the straw poking her thighs through the
mattress’s canvas cover, and sobbed out all the rage, fear, despair, and grief that had harried her for the
past fortnight, feelings pride had forbidden her to show the soldiers or the slaver or her new owner or his
servants or even that pampered Roman—especially him—denying them all the chance to wield those
emotions against her. Pain as visceral as a blade’s thrust sliced into her gut. She dropped to her knees
and pressed her cheek to the wall, painting it with her tears and pounding the cool slate with the heel of
her hand.
“Da, how could you!”
Each futile thump knelled like another nail driven into the coffin housing the remains of her freedom.
“Da!”

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The Descendants The Descendants Series Book 1 by Destiny Hawkins Genre: Dark Fantasy

Fail the tests and become a slave. Display defectiveness and be put to death. Monroe Academy was built to separate the weak from the strong. Pass the biyearly leveling and be released into society upon graduation. Fail to be promoted and be stripped of rank and forced into servitude. That was a rule that applied to all but Rayah Bardeau. A student of Monroe Academy, branded as a Null because of her absence of Lighter energy. With her mother standing as a slave in her place, Rayah was given until the age of twenty to make level six, but at nineteen-years-old and with only eight months until her twentieth birthday, she was only a mere level one. The same level she’s been since she was ten. With the stress of her upcoming test, the loss of a friend, and the constant wrongdoings towards her, Rayah could only dream of escaping from Lytonia, and escape she did. Only, when she awakened in her dorm, she couldn’t distinguish if she had only dreamt of meeting Soren, a wild and adventurous defect in the Wild Lands, or if she had somehow used her Lighter Form to get there. But only the elite ― the most powerful of Lighters ― could tap into their Lighter Forms. Right? And what was the dark energy she used when she and Soren were attacked by Depleters? Was Rayah really as powerless as she thought? Was she a defect? And if she used dark energy, could she call herself a Lighter at all? Bestselling author Destiny Hawkins brings you the first installment of a gripping dark fantasy where a powerless girl must survive in a society that doesn’t accept the weak…or the defective. “When I started reading this book I was not prepared for the sheer level of adventure I would experience. This book is along the same lines as the Divergent series, and just as action packed!” ★★★★★ “Given how many books I read, it’s not often I can say that I haven’t seen something before, but this storyline is unlike anything I’ve read.” ★★★★★ “This is completely different from what I’m used to reading….but I definitely fell in love with this world that Destiny Hawkins created.” ★★★★★ **Only $1.50!!**Goodreads * Amazon

The Calling The Descendants Series Book 2

She was given a second chance to prove that she could fall in line, but with her lack of power, that would be impossible. Rayah’s entire life, she’d always been different from everyone else, and in Lytonia, being different was treated as a crime, but in her case, she was granted a pass. In only a few months, she had to present her abilities to the council and prove to them that she was worthy of walking the halls of Monroe Academy, but Artemis, her tormentor and superior officer, would stop at nothing to keep her from excelling. Being powerless and not proving herself meant that she would be transitioned into a slave, and Artemis would become her master. What Rayah realized was that she wasn’t as powerless as she thought. For weeks she had been able to do things that only the elite lighters could do, and even though this meant that she was strong, it made her more different than she could have ever imagined. Rayah went from being weak to possibly being as strong as a Gods Daughter, and she couldn’t tell anyone. The standard colors of a Lytonians powers are white, royal blue, and turquoise blue. Hers were black… Bestselling author Destiny Hawkins brings you the second installment of a gripping dark fantasy where a powerless girl must survive in a society that doesn’t accept the weak…or the defective. **On Sale for Only .99 cents!!**Goodreads * Amazon

Destiny Hawkins is a multi-genre author with a dark imagination and a love for magic. She enjoys cooking, running, swimming, listening to music, reading, and of course watching anime filled with fantasy! Her favorite genres to read and work in are Fantasy, LGBT, Paranormal, Romance, Dystopian, Sci-fi, and young adult. After three years of writing she has published almost 20 books and she has many more coming! Website * Facebook * FB Group * Twitter * Instagram * Amazon * Goodreads

Gone. One minute Tristan was here, and the next he wasn’t. Only two days ago we watched the two
moons rise, and it was only two days ago when we almost kissed, but this morning he was taken away
from me, and I will never see him again. Once a student was made into a slave, it was forbidden for them
to ever see their friends or family again, and that was exactly what Tristan was going to be transitioned
into in only a few hours. They were going to strip him of his rank, disregard that he was born into the Vex
class, and put a collar around his neck that could kill him at the push of a button.
This morning two officers marched into Tristan’s dorm and dragged him out. I stood there, shocked,
as he kicked and screamed, begging for a second chance. He was a level five Vex, which would have
been alright if he hadn’t turned twenty today.
At the age of twenty, a student of Monroe Academy was to be tested on their lighter abilities and
hopefully advanced up to level six. Ever since Tristan was enrolled ten years ago, he’d never had trouble
leveling up, but this time he struggled to get his powers to strengthen. This time, the council didn’t
believe him strong enough to earn a level six patch, and now he had to serve his nation in another way.
He had to serve the high class Vexes and ensure their happiness. The happier the people, the lower the
chances of there ever being chaos in our world again.
At least that’s what we were taught.
The navy-blue leather suit I was wearing grew hot as I walked down the hall towards my dorm. All I
could think about was the terrified look on Tristan’s face as he was dragged away. We had only made eye
contact for a moment, but in that moment, I remembered the night he told me that the council had leveled
him up and were going to send him his level six patch to his dorm. They usually gave them out right
away, but Tristan said that they’d somehow run out and had to order more. Now I knew that he was only
lying keep me from worrying on our last night together, but I wished that he would’ve told me. I wished
that I would’ve been prepared for the aching pain growing in my chest.
My throat burned as a few of the other students passed me by, giving me dirty looks. I was sure that
most of them had blamed me for Tristan’s failure. I was a Null after all. Someone that couldn’t produce
even a speck of light. We were lighters, citizens of the Lighter Nation and beings that could produce an
energy-a light-that was taught to be used as a weapon to protect our nation from any outside enemies.
Lighters had to be strong, disciplined, and hard workers. If one couldn’t reach their required level at a
certain age, then they were done for. Given up on, and there were no second chances. At least for
everyone else. I was the only student ever given another opportunity to level up, but at a cost that would
forever weigh on my conscience.
The dorm hall had oddly cleared as I neared my door. I barely even took notice to how the few
students still lingering averted their eyes from me. Maybe they thought that any contact with a Null would
hinder them from advancing to the next level, or maybe they all recognized the haunted expression on my
face and couldn’t bear to look. Many had lost loved ones to our glorious society and could have been all
too familiar with the expression. One where the face paled and the eyes brimmed with tears, reddening
before the droplets even fell.

Finally arriving to my door, I swiped my card through the slot on the wall and waited for the door to
slide open. As soon as it did, I felt myself being roughly shoved inside and fell onto my hands and knees.
Before I could even get up, an arm wrapped around my throat, tightening so that not a drop of air could
get through, and when I heard the door slide shut behind me, alarms began to blare in my mind. This was
bad. Really bad. Not only would screaming for help be ineffective, but I couldn’t fight my attacker either.
“I told you that I would get you alone, didn’t I? Fucking Null.”

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Lifeliners by Stefan Vucak Genre: Science Fiction

When everybody is against them, it is tough being a lifeliner, as Nash Bannon found out. Lifeliners are ordinary people…almost. They can draw energy from another person; they live longer and are smarter. Scientists claim that Western high-pressure living and growing sterility in developed countries has triggered the rise of lifeliners, and homo sapiens will replaced by homo renata within ten generations. So, what’s not to like about lifeliners? Protest marches by extremist groups, riots, attacks against lifeliners, repressive laws enacted by governments everywhere, were portents of a dark future. Young, successful, Nash Bannon did not like what was going on, but he thought he had the world at his feet and life in Australia was good, provided no one found out he was a lifeliner. A chance encounter with Cariana during a lunchbreak develops into something he considered important. The Australian government calls a snap election, and Nash stands as a Senate candidate on the Lifeliner Party ticket. Unless lifeliners rise up and fight for their rights, they can expect sterilization, incarceration, and possible extermination as democracies everywhere turn into autocracies. To survive, the Lifeliner Party must employ the same dirty tricks the government used against them, but they were not prepared for what awaited them. Add to Goodreads Amazon * Smashwords

Stefan Vucak has written eight Shadow Gods Saga sci-fi novels and six contemporary thrillers. He started writing science fiction while still in college, but didn’t get published until 2001. His Cry of Eagles won the coveted Readers’ Favorite silver medal award, and his All the Evils was the prestigious Eric Hoffer contest finalist and Readers’ Favorite silver medal winner. Strike for Honor won the gold medal. Stefan leveraged a successful career in the Information Technology industry, which took him to the Middle East working on cellphone systems. He applied his IT discipline to create realistic storylines for his books. Writing has been a road of discovery, helping him broaden his horizons. He also spends time as an editor and book reviewer. Stefan lives in Melbourne, Australia. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Bookbub * Amazon* Goodreads

He spotted her sitting alone at a small square table in the open
part of La Asiago along the promenade and the world faded
around him. Dressed in cream slacks and gray business jacket,
flaxen hair spilling across her left shoulder, time stopped and he
stared at this captivating woman alone in her shell, surrounded by
chattering people, yet unreachable. He traced the lines of her
delicate face, the fall of her hair, and a small frown creasing her
forehead that made her perfect.
You don’t want to become involved again, old son!
Probably not, but he could not see any harm in an interesting
lunchtime diversion compared to the alternative of a lonely bench
beside the river, warm sunshine notwithstanding. It might do him
good to seek out some distracting company and wash out the
unpleasant taste of his IBM meeting.
With the exterior section of the restaurant packed and no empty
seats, he took a deep breath and weaved between the tables toward
her. If she didn’t like his approach, she could always tell him to
buzz off. It had happened before. Some women just didn’t want to
be bothered. Peace.
“I don’t mean to intrude, but you seem to have the only spare
seat. May I?”
She glanced around, gave him an appraising look with eyes that
cut and probed, and finally nodded.
“There are tables inside,” she said softly, her clear voice sending
an unexpected tingle down his spine. What the hell was going on?
He reminded himself that this was just lunch—diverting as it might
be—not a romantic encounter.
“Yes, but it’s not the same thing, and it’s too cold and crowded
in there,” he declared as he pulled back a chair.
Her eyebrows rose. “You prefer your own company?”
“Depends on the company,” he said and eased himself down. “I
never take chances I don’t have to.”
“You’re taking a chance now, aren’t you?”
“Sometimes you have to.” He glanced at two David Jones store
shopping bags beside her, and she smiled.

10

“I took advantage of a nice day to pick up a few things before
returning to The Alfred,” she explained.
“You’re a doctor?”
The babble of voices around them created a shield of intimacy
and a sense that time had stopped. Even the crowd strolling along
the promenade faded from his view.
“Geneticist.”
“Fascinating line of work,” he said, genuinely interested.
When the waiter arrived, he ordered spiced ravioli and gnocchi
and half a bottle of red Chianti. Shortly afterward, her spaghetti
marinara arrived. Looking at her speculatively, he lifted the bottle.
She frowned and brushed back a stray lock of golden hair.
“Is this your standard gambit when picking up women?”
She had slim, delicate fingers with a subdued red nail polish that
complemented without being gaudy. He imagined fondling those
hands, running his fingers over her smooth skin. Could he be
getting infatuated with a woman he just met? No, this was merely
an interesting meeting with someone attractive and sophisticated.
Still, she had a magnetism he could feel and his soul reached out to
her, warning bells clanging in his head. He clamped a lid on them,
prepared to enjoy this moment.
“I don’t do casual pickups.”
She inclined her head in disbelief. “And I am…”
“A fortuitous and pleasant accident. No spare tables,
remember? Besides, you looked so lonely…”
She lifted a finger. “Don’t push it.”
He grinned at her. “A peace offering, then. A glass of wine?”
“I shouldn’t—”
“It’s a very light Italian red. Won’t do anything to spoil your
day.”
She bit her lower lip, then slid her glass toward him. “Only a
little.”
“Great.”
He poured both of them half a glass. She lowered her fork and
took a cautious sip. Her eyebrows arched and she nodded.

LIFELINERS

11
“Interesting flavor.”
“Glad you like it. By the way, I’m Nash Bannon.”
“Cariana Lambert, and I still think this is a pickup routine.”
Nash winced. “Now I’m hurt. I really—”
Just then, the waiter brought a bowl of steaming ravioli and
gnocchi, cutting off whatever he was about to say. Nash thanked
him, picked up his fork, stabbed one of the gnocchi and popped it
into his mouth. It was nice and chewy the way he liked it and he
relished the tangy mushroom sauce.
Cariana watched him with an amused expression. “That won’t
do much for your waistline,” she remarked dryly.
“It’s my carbs day,” he explained between bites. “I usually have
a mixed salad and fruit juice, but that is not always enough to keep
me fueled and beat off the sharks at work.”
She glanced at her bowl. “I know what you mean. Seeing you
relishing your gnocchi eases my own guilt for being weak.” She
dabbed her lips with a napkin and took another sip of wine. “And
what fills your days, Mr. Bannon?”
“Nash. I do systems integration for IBM.”
“Weren’t they taken over by Facebook?”
“They certainly were. IBM culture was getting stale and needed
an infusion of new methodology and ideas. I have doubts that it
worked, but they run some cutting edge projects.”
“And what are you working on right now?”
“I’m currently managing a major Telstra network program
where everybody is giving me a hard time.”
“Poor you.”
“Your sympathy is appreciated.”
She turned serious. “I did not mean to tease you, and I do
understand, finding myself in a similar position. Doing research
would be fun if it weren’t for the oversight protocols, although
necessary.” She finished the last of her marinara and gathered her
bags. “Thank you for the wine…Nash.”
Dismayed to see her about to leave, his mind raced. He could
not let it end like this. “I enjoyed meeting you and I would enjoy it

12

even more if we could do this again, taking more time.”
Now what the hell made him say that! This was supposed to be
a simple lunch without sticky romantic overtones.
She stood and laughed. “Are you always this forthright?”
“I don’t go out much, and meeting someone like you is rare,” he
said quickly and rose, figuring his pickup line could use some
updating. “What do you say?”

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