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I jolted awake and nearly knocked Max off the bed when the siren at the firehouse next door
blared in the middle of the night. I had trained myself to sleep through it when I’d first moved
over the funeral
home my parents and brother owned. It also helped that my father had installed soundproofing
up here
at my request.
Tonight, though, I’d had a hard time falling asleep and had wandered to the window a few times
to soak up the moonlight and watch the few cars driving on Main Street. I had been restless
even with Max’s arms wrapped around me in the Murphy bed that I’d lowered from the wall.
So, it was no surprise that I heard it and shot straight up in bed. As softly as possible I removed
myself from under Max’s arm and went to the front windows of my apartment, where I’d be able
to see the direction the fire truck headed. The lights could be mesmerizing as they strobed
across the brick
buildings of Main Street in our small town. Pennsylvania liked its sirens and its volunteer
firemen.
But though the siren blared and the lights flashed, they didn’t get far. In fact, they pulled across
the
street and stopped outside Gina’s.
What on earth?
“Max. Max!” I shook him, then ran to my closet for a hoodie to throw over my pajamas. No time
to waste on a bra, and the hoodie would cover up any sagging. Plus, the dead of summer could
still get a little chilly outside in the middle of the night.
He sat up, his hair going in all directions. “What’s going on?”
“The fire truck is in front of Gina’s house. I have to go over there.”
Points for him that he was out of bed and stepping into his jeans before I’d finished my second
sentence.
“See if you can get a hold of her. She might not be able to answer, but maybe she can. Just
check.” He
went to the window as he pulled a shirt on over his head. “I don’t see flames. But an ambulance
just
pulled up.”
“Oh no. That could mean anything.” They came out for all reasons, generally anything that
involved a
call to the emergency line at the police station. What had happened? Was Gina hurt? Had I left
her alone and Craig had come for her? My stomach tried to claw its way up my throat.
Stepping into shoes, I hit my Gina speed dial as I flew down the two sets of stairs to the main
floor.
Max was right on my heels. By the fourth ring, Gina still hadn’t answered, but then it didn’t
matter because I saw her standing on the sidewalk with her arms wrapped around herself and a
blanket over
her shoulders.
At least she was alive. While I’d booked it down the stairs, horrible visions had flashed through
my head of Craig getting in her house and killing her in her sleep. Seeing her standing there
alleviated that fear at least, but it didn’t indicate what had happened. I didn’t even look for traffic
as I ran across the
street and jerked to a halt in front of her. I opened my arms and she stepped forward. But Chief
Burton
put an arm out between us, keeping her from hugging me. The man was the bane of my
existence.
He still held a grudge over the stuck-up, snobby bitch I had been for the past five years. I’d
thought helping him with a double murder a few months ago might have softened him up, but
that didn’t seem to be happening with the way his eyes were flinty and his stance forbidding.
“What are you doing?” I demanded.
“This is a crime scene, Tallie.”
“A what? What happened?” Quickly taking in the scene, I saw no blood and no broken windows.
Nothing out of the ordinary, except my friend standing on the street with a blanket around hershoulders.
“Go home. We’re taking care of it. I need you to step back. We don’t want to contaminate
anything
until we have all the evidence we need.”
“Gina?” I met her eyes. Max stepped up next to me and put a hand on my outstretched arm.
“Don’t leave me, Tallie. Please.” Her voice quavered with distress and I wanted to punch Burton
in his shiny badge.
Instead, I glared at him and almost said the scathing words that were positively boiling on my
tongue. But I did not want to make anyone even madder. I settled for taking a step back. “I’m
not leaving. I won’t touch anything, but I’m not leaving.”
Burton sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Not my problem.
“Do you want me to call your mom, Gina?” I asked. “God, no, please.”
“Can you tell me what happened? Why are the police and the fire department and the
ambulance here?”
Burton stepped between us again. “You can stay, but I’ll be asking the questions. Right now,
this is a
need-to-know basis and you are not someone who needs to know anything.” Burton stood with
his back
to Gina, fully blocking her from my sight. Kicking him would be a very bad idea, I told myself
severaltimes, while I fought down the urge to do just that. I tried a different tactic with the silvered-
haired

man who was the strong arm of the law around these parts. “Can you tell me what happened
then? I live in the neighborhood and would like to know what has happened to bring everyone
out before dawn.”
He frowned at me, his bushy gray eyebrows pulling down to form a V. “There’s been a death
and that’s
all you need to know.”
A death? I reeled back into Max’s arms, my brain now going to the threats Gina had made
earlier
toward Craig. No way would she have done that. I knew it in my heart. Plus, I didn’t even know
who was dead. I wouldn’t jump to any conclusions until I had more facts.
And then the gurney rolled past me and Max. A hand flopped out from under the sheet, the
manicured
fingernails masculine and way too clean. It was Craig. To say this was not good was a gross
understatement.

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Having
spent most of their lives dreaming about leaving their sleepy village
and travelling the world, Delin Kerny and Fennic Attleford never
thought that one day they would be forced to flee their town in order
to save their lives. Everything changes when they discover the fabled
Star Silver sword and learn that there are some who want the weapon
for themselves. Hunted by a ruthless mercenary, the boys run from Fel
Darrins and are forced into the adventure they only dreamed
about.

Ever
ashamed of the horrors his kind let loose on the world the last mage,
Dakeb, lives his life in shadows. The only thing keeping him alive is
his quest to stop the Silver Mage from reassembling the crystal. His
chance finally comes through the hearts and wills of Delin and
Fennic. Dakeb bestows upon them the crystal shard, entrusting them
with the one thing capable of restoring peace to Malweir.

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Christian
W. Freed was born in Buffalo, N.Y. more years ago than he would like
to remember. After spending more than 20 years in the active duty US
Army he has turned his talents to writing. Since retiring, he has
gone on to publish 17 military fantasy and science fiction novels, as
well as his memoirs from his time in Iraq and Afghanistan. His first
published book (Hammers in the Wind) has been the #1 free book onKindle 4 times and he holds a fancy certificate from the L Ron
Hubbard Writers of the Future Contest.

Passionate
about history, he combines his knowledge of the past with modern
military tactics to create an engaging, quasi-realistic world for the
readers. He graduated from Campbell University with a degree in
history and is pursuing a Masters of Arts degree in Military History
from Norwich University. He currently lives outside of Raleigh, N.C.
and devotes his time to writing, his family, and their two Bernese
Mountain Dogs. If you drive by you might just find him on the porch
with a cigar in one hand and a pen in the other.

Half of the Goblins were dead before the rest knew what was happening. They scrambled for cover,
spitting a futile volley back in return. Only three Goblins were alive by the time the Gnaal burst from
cover. The elm stand exploded in a hail of fire and splinters. A terrible roar shook the ground as the
decaying monster stormed into the thick of the battle. Fennic saw death searching him out.
Phaelor screamed to be drawn. To exact revenge and finish the job already begun. Dead bodies wereflung recklessly aside and crushed under the Gnaal’s advance. Blaron did exactly as he was told. His eight
men withdrew as fast as they could before the great beast spotted them. Hallis wasn’t so fortunate. The
Gnaal’s rotting head turned his way and those vile eyes locked on the sergeant. The Gnaal smiled and
started towards the ridge.
The recruits broke and ran in fear. Some stood petrified. Hallis wished he could find a place to hide for
this was the most horrific experience of his life. This went beyond the decadence and horrors on the
plains of Gren. This was pure and malevolent hatred. He shakily reached back and drew another arrow.
“Save it,” Norgen growled.
The Gnaal was coming closer.
Axe in hand, the Dwarf said, “Take your people and flee. Look after these two for me.”
“Where are you going?”
Norgen smiled grimly. “I’m tired of running from this bastard.”
He started to march out to meet the monster. Too many times he’d been forced to run, each time believing
he was free. The Gnaal kept coming. Each knew the only way to be free was for one of them to die.
Fennic watched in shock. Norgen was committing suicide to buy them time. Phaelor in hand, the youth
rushed off to stand with his friend. Delin pulled him back just in time.
“Wait! I’ve got a better idea,” he yelled.
The Gnaal’s heavy club missed Norgen’s head and smashed through a tree.
Delin took one his Goblin arrows and touched it to Phaelor’s glowing blade.
“What are you doing?” Fennic asked.
He still wasn’t sure. “Just watch.”
Norgen slashed and his axe bit deep into the Gnaal’s kneecap. They knew he couldn’t last long like this.
Norgen needed help. Fennic stared at the arrow as it started to glow. Hallis joined the fight then, moving
halfway down the slope and firing off the rest of his quiver. They were all dead if Delin’s idea didn’t
work. Delin aimed his arrow carefully and prayed to every god he knew. He didn’t want to die.
Then the Gnaal saw them. Saw the one thing it hated more than life itself. The sword! The golden light
was an insult to all Gren. It was an aberration to his master. The Gnaal remembered the pain it caused and
knew what to do. Roaring, it forgot its attackers and made for the two boys on the hill. The arrow flew
towards it.
Seconds slowed so that every action was deliberate and purposeful. Norgen hacked at the back of its leg.
Chunks of muscle and flesh flew away. Dark blood splashed around him and the Gnaal roared on. The
wielder had to die. Hallis slipped and fell in the ichors. Phaelor glowed bright enough to rival the sun.
And then the arrow struck. The enchanted missile struck the Gnaal in the eye with a fleshy smack and
plunged deep into its fever maddened mind. Golden light spread like a virus, seeping from every wound
and pore. The Gnaal tossed back its head and screamed before crashing to the ground. There it lay; Hallis
swore under his breath. The Gnaal lay unmoving, not breathing. Norgen stared wide eyed.
“You did it,” Fennic whispered in disbelief.
Delin would have smiled if his heart wasn’t in his throat threatening to explode. “We….we need to make
sure it’s dead.”
Trembling, they helped each other down to the corpse.
“Stay back,” Norgen warned.
He knew full well how the Gnaal liked to play dead. Too many friends died that way and he wasn’t
willing to let these two follow suit. Fennic stared into the monster’s lifeless eyes, expecting to learn the
true nature of horror. The feeling of dread was gone.
His thoughts were clear and concise again. The Gnaal was dead.
“It’s all right,” he reassured them.Holding Phaelor high, Fennic plunged the blade down through the dark heart of the beast. A quiet hiss
escaped the body. Together they watched the body melt away, folding in itself until nothing but a putrid
scar remained on the ground. A small piece of evil had left the world.

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Stratus
is mysterious, fun, and has a danger to him that Lily finds herself
drawn to. Learning that he is either a demon or an angel only makes
him more irresistible. But when strangers start turning up dead in
her town, Lily begins to fear her new found flame may be the
cause.

Caught
in a tempest of lies, secrets, and betrayals, Lily must discover who
Stratus really is behind his stormy eyes. Is it an angel who will win
her heart, or will it be a demon who stakes his claim?

From
an early age Miranda Brock has always loved fantasy and adventure
everything. Since she doesn’t live in a world of enchanting powers,
mythical beasts, and things unbelievable she has decided to write
about them. (Although, if you happen to see a dragon flying around,
do tell her.) Born in southern Illinois, where she still resides with
her husband and two children, she grew up running through the woods,
playing in creeks, and riding horses. What started out as writing
poetry grew into short stories and eventually led to her first novel,
Souls Discovered. Miranda lives in the country where she finds
inspiration in the simplicity and beauty around her. With the help of
a ridiculous amount of coffee and some good music she writes whenevershe gets a chance.

My crazy grandma always said thunder was caused by the clash of angels and demons, and
lightning was the loser being cast to earth. So when I got hit by lightning, I couldn’t help but
wonder, was I struck by an angel or a demon?
I grabbed my ragged messenger bag and slung it onto my shoulder as I opened the front door.
“Liliana, it’s going to storm. Where are you going?” My mom walked out of the kitchen, big
spoon red with sauce in hand. I stopped myself from rolling my eyes toward the ceiling, both at
her calling me Liliana and at her insistence to continuously treat me like I was eleven instead of
nineteen.
Looking over my shoulder at her, I said, “I won’t be gone long. Need anything while I’m out?”
She pursed her lips, and I could tell she was warring with telling me I should stay home but also
needing something from the store. “Well, I want to use some of this fresh sauce so I was going
to make pasta for supper. Some garlic bread would be nice.”
“I’ll pick some up.” I gave her a smile and stepped outside, letting the screen door slap shut
behind me. Even outside I could smell the basil and garlic scent of the sauce. My mother’s
homemade sauce was good enough to make an Italian chef sing.
Of course, when the only thing you ever grew in the garden was tomatoes, you learned how to
cook them. Why my mom never grew anything else was a mystery to me. At least there was
always plenty of sauce.
After giving my striped cat, Bo Jangles, a quick scratch behind the ears, I stepped off the porch
into the sunlight. Storm indeed. I gave the door on my white Chevy Cavalier a sharp yank. Ever
since an unfortunate collision with a deer put a large dent in it, it only opened with abuse. It
jerked open with a loud groan just enough for me to shimmy in. I tossed my bag into the
passenger seat, buckled up, and backed out of the driveway.
Our small two-story house was settled on the edge of Ware.
The name of my town always came to me with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. There
had been many times when people asked where I lived, and I said, “Ware,” and it had always
been followed by “Yeah, where?” followed by explanations of my ridiculous town name. I
sometimes wondered if a town existed anywhere by the name of Thare.I glanced at my fuel gauge and sighed. I headed to the only gas station in my smidge-under-
two-thousand-population town. It was two-thirty on a Friday, which meant Brantley would beworking. I wasn’t avoiding him, really. Still, when I pulled into the gas station, I hoped he would
be too busy inside to notice me.
No such luck.
“Hey, Lils! What’s up?” he said as the door shut behind him. Leaning against my car as I
pumped gas, I turned to look at him. I could admit my on-again, off-again ex was handsome. He
had one of those strong jawlines peppered with a day of stubble and a head of dark blond
messy hair. I found myself lost in his blue eyes on many occasions.
Brantley had been ridiculously persistent since he had tried to kiss me during nap time in
kindergarten. We grew up going on playdates at each other’s houses, shared a first and very
awkward kiss in middle school, dated throughout high school, and did the whole senior prom
thing together, but it never felt like more than a friendship. Despite breaking things off with him
—again—merely three months before, Brantley was always as flirtatious as ever. I knew he’d
date me again if I ever said yes.
“Not much,” I told him. “Going for a little drive then stopping by the store.”
“Oh yeah? Where you headed?” He settled beside me, his shoulder nearly brushing mine.
I jerked my head toward the west side of town. Once you passed the last few houses and drove
out past the several miles of fields, the land started to rise into hills covered in dense forest. The
Shawnee National Forest offered some great places for hiking, and there was one spot in
particular I had in mind, especially if there really was a storm moving in.
Brantley let out a short laugh. “You go up there so much, you really should move there.”
“And miss all of the excitement around here?” I asked with a smile. He shook his head and
straightened as I twisted my gas cap back on.
“Well, have fun.” He glanced dejectedly back toward the front door of the gas station. “I gotta get
back to work.”
I nodded and reached for my door handle. Brantley grabbed my shoulder.
“Hang on. Do you want to go bowling tomorrow night?”

I groaned inwardly. “Brantley, you know we—”
“Not just with me. Wyatt and Austin will be there, too. You can bring Levi.”
“I’ll ask her about it,” I answered, deflecting. I knew I could always use the excuse that Levi
didn’t want to go and I didn’t want to be stuck with a bunch of men all night. “I’ll see you around,
Brantley.”
“Yep, bye Lils.”
My car crawled through town. I wasn’t really in the mood to be pulled over by Officer
McCormick, though I knew Brantley’s dad would let me off with a warning. When the small
houses, with their quaint porches, large shade trees, and unmanicured landscaping, grew
farther apart, I pressed my foot harder on the gas pedal.
I jabbed angrily at the A/C button as I left Ware behind me. It stubbornly refused to work, so I
gave up and rolled the window down. All I got was a rush of warm southern Illinois air catching
at my dark brown and blue locks.
It was a nice drive through the country, the fields of corn waving at me in the breeze as I passed
by. Several miles down the road, I took a left off the highway and onto a county road. This rose
steadily, winding and twisting into the hills I loved. I passed the old Baptist church beside the
cemetery and then took a right next to a sign that read “Gnarled Branch Trail.” The tires
crunched down the narrow gravel road and I did my best to avoid the potholes.
I reached my destination: a tiny parking area next to the beginning of the trailhead. Turning off
my car, I grabbed my bag, pulled my hair back in a ponytail, and headed out in the opposite
direction of the trail. I stepped through the undergrowth, grinning as I imagined my mother’s
voice telling me I was going to step on a rattlesnake or copperhead traipsing through the woods
like I was. The brush and undergrowth grew sparse and my way opened up. I found my
personal little path easily, hardly
more than a deer trail, and followed it upward.
My dirt path began to turn rocky and then I was picking my way around large boulders and rocky
outcrops. I squeezed up a tiny crevice, shifting my bag so it wouldn’t catch. Reaching the top, I
pulled myself up, smiling. This was my secret place.
The land was flat like a shelf sticking out of the hills. It was mostly hard rock with wisps of grass
sprinkled here and there. I sat down cross-legged and stared out. The view rose and dipped in
forested hills before giving way to a strip of floodplain bordering the twisting Mississippi River in
the distance.
Overhead the sky was growing overcast with a thick band of dark clouds moving in from the
west. Guess my mom was right; it was going to storm. I grinned.
Shrugging my bag off, I set it beside me. I dug around and pulled out my favorite camera. It was
an older model that I had spied in a pawn shop window a few years ago. I still favored film over
digital. There was just something about the click and whir of the camera and the challenge of
capturing perfection without the aid of manipulation. I gazed out at the expanse of land beyond
me and lifted my camera. Then, I lost myself.
My camera clicked as I captured images almost without thought, catching the lines of the hills,
their gentle swoops and dips. The ribbon of river in the distance carved through the earth. The
wisps of cloud overhead and the tall and commanding presence of the incoming thunderheads.
Dark shades of ravines and the light of the faraway water mixed with various shades of gray and
green.
It wasn’t until I felt a few drops of water on my arm that I brought myself back to my senses. I
tilted my head back.
“Oh, great.” I’d sat there too long.
I quickly wrapped my camera in plastic before stuffing it into my bag. I got up, shifting my feet to
encourage circulation. Wind swirled around me, carrying with it the sweet, earthy aroma of fresh
rain. It would be a miracle if I made it back to my car without getting soaked. The rumble of
thunder and distant rush of incoming rain confirmed my thoughts. How had the storm crept up
on me so fast?
Pivoting, I darted toward the spot to make my way back down and then I couldn’t see through
sudden white. Pain lanced through me from the inside out as my skull rocked with the loud,
earth-shaking boom. The sound was gone just as quickly as the blinding light.
I blinked my eyes, wondering why in the world I was staring up at the sky and letting rain drip on
my face. Something hard and wet was beneath me. Moving my fingers, I found the gritty surface

of the ground. It felt as if it were swaying slightly. How did I get on the ground? I pulled in a
shaky breath, trying to gather my scattered thoughts, and it took me a moment to realize I had
to have been struck by lightning. There was no other explanation. Rain continued to pelt my
face. I felt relieved that I wasn’t just a scorch mark on the hard rock surface. As I stayed
motionless, a sudden thought occurred to me.
My crazy grandma always said thunder was caused by the clash of angels and demons, and
lightning was the loser being cast to earth. So when I got hit by lightning, I couldn’t help but
wonder, was I struck by an angel or a demon?
I started to sit up with a groan, my muscles protesting as if they had gone through a strenuous
workout. Shaking my head, I thought about my grandma’s words. She had always been an
eccentric with the most outrageous ideas. Demons and angels being cast to earth? What a
ridiculous…
I blinked several times, and although I did have a buzzing sensation in my head, I was at least
eighty percent sure I wasn’t hallucinating. If my mind was lucid, however, then who was the man
lying not five feet away from me?

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Reeling
from a nasty divorce, Paige Reed wants to move forward, and leave the
past where it belongs – behind her. A spontaneous decision leads her
to a location set for a movie where she meets sexy Hollywood insider,
Kellen Richards.

 

Kellen’s
southern charm sweeps Paige off her feet, despite the hungry
paparazzi watching in the background. But when a tragedy proves to be
anything but accidental, he vows to protect Paige with every resource
at his beck and call.

While
Paige fights to find her place in his world, Kellen must engage in a
lethal game of chess, their lives and blossoming love at stake.

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With
no patience for gossip-reading fan girls, Grey is far from interested
in the youngest Reed sister. And a guy like Grey would never date
outside the elite Hollywood circles. That would be career
suicide.

However,when there’s a threat against the Reed sisters, Grey feels compelled
to protect the spunky and adorable woman who somehow wiggled her way
into his heart. With danger closing in, Grey must save the sisters
and prove to Lil that there’s more behind the glamour and glitz. But
will she ignore the fake tabloids for a chance at real love?

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Determined
to prove herself, Trinity Richards goes against her family’s wishes
and finally makes the move to Los Angeles. Knowing her brothers
monitor every move gives Trinity the courage to fulfill her dreams.
But now, her brothers’ enemies have a new target: Her.

Finding
solace at the bottom of a bottle, Tim Rhodes is still struggling with
his wife’s death. Encountering the beautiful and assertive Trinity
puts him on edge. After all, he has no intentions of ever falling in
love again. Love only breeds pain–and too much of it. The last thing
he needs is another woman in his life.

When
Trinity’s life is threatened, Tim’s torn between his past and what
could possibly be his future. Now, it’s up to him to confront his
demons and fight for the woman he wants. Can he bury his pain and
save Trinity before it’s too late?

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RM
Alexander is an author of romantic suspense. With driven characterswho suffer the worst kinds of betrayals, RM’s novels promise a good
read with unexpected twists and turns.

When
she’s not writing, RM spends time with her husband and two children.
She loves to travel, especially to Walt Disney World, and is addicted
to orange juice and Ghiradelli chocolate. She is often found on
Twitter and Facebook chatting with other authors and readers.

Paige sauntered past tables of clinking silverware, murmurs and crunching fresh bread. Her
stomach rolled. Full or not, she may have to indulge further. It’d been awhile since she had a
dinner that tasted this good.
She edged to a long table dressed in flowers and several punch bowls full of pretty pink liquid.
Picking a glass from the far end, Paige reached for the ladle of the closest crystal bowl.
“Please, allow me.”
She glanced up, hand hovering above the silver ladle. “I, uh, thank you.”
Paige held a cup as Grey Richards poured the punch. “You and your friend were at the shoot
today, right?”
She nodded. “Yes, for a little while. During the car chase.”
“I remember. That’s great. I love meeting my biggest fans.”
A soft smile dressed her lips. “I can’t say I’m your biggest fan. I mean … I … I enjoy your movies,
but … I …” The heat in her cheeks burned her flustered nerves. “I’m sorry, I … ” She took a sip of
the punch. A polite retreat was all she needed.
Grey laughed and tucked a hand in the tuxedo pants. The material flowed and hung, obviously
not a rental.
A man like him probably has a closet full of top of the line tuxedos, she thought. She didn’t want
to venture a guess at the price tag that came with each one. It was likely to be more than she’d
make in a lifetime at her job.
“Honesty. I like that. Don’t get a lot of it where I come from.”
Paige kept her gaze trained on the cup, heat spreading like wildfire.
He leaned back a little, gaze traveling up and down Paige’s body, feet to head, and back again.
Paige shifted her weight to one foot, then the other.
“You’re uncomfortable around me.”
She met the trademark gray-charcoal eyes. “I imagine you get that a lot.”
Steady in his stare, she felt like he was drinking her in. “What’s your name?”
She drew in a steadying breath. “Paige Reed.”
“Paige Reed.” He watched her. “Paige Reed.” He turned her name in the smooth steely voice
every fan knew well. “Pretty name for a pretty lady.”
What a line. But he doesn’t need practice with lines, she bet. She took a sip of punch, thankful
the trumpeting thought didn’t pass through her lips. “Thank you.”
“So,” he said, taking a drink of punch, “what kind of movies do you enjoy if you’re not my biggest
fan?”
She swallowed hard and coughed. “I didn’t say I didn’t like your movies.”
“No, of course, you didn’t.” He turned to the punch and poured a second cup, took a drink. “You
wouldn’t admit that much, would you? I ask again, what are your favorite movies? I bet you’re a
romance fan.”
“And if I am?”
He chuckled, hand held up in retreat. “Nothing wrong with romance. I’ve been looking at a
couple scripts myself, but nothing’s come my way that has caught my
attention. What’s your favorite, if you had to choose?”
” Pride and Prejudice. The one with Keira Knightley.”
He nodded. “Historical romance, huh?”
Her turn to nod.
“Good film. Good cast. And I bet you’re wondering what the actors are like in real life?”
She smiled and shrugged. “No. You wouldn’t tell me even if I were, and really, I’m not a National
Inquiry kind of girl anyway. They’re just people, who happen to make good movies. And you,
you’re just another person who happens to make good movies.”
His smile widened. “I like that. And yet, when I first came over here, you struggled to talk to me.
If I’m just another person, why was that?”
She glanced over her shoulder to the table, where Lil stood, frozen and slackjawed. Paige
giggled.
“Something funny?” He glanced over her shoulder. “You’re friend looks like she might be a
National Inquiry kind of girl.”
Paige gritted her teeth. “My sister. She’s a good person, who just might be one of your biggest
fans. Are you that callous towards all your biggest fans?””Oh, no. I didn’t mean any offense.” He shifted his weight. “I should let you get back to your
sister. It’s been interesting talking to you, Ms. Reed.” He held out a hand.
“Nice talking to you, Mr. Richards.” Paige shook his hand, eyes widening as he brought the
back of her hand to waiting lips, eyes trained on her.
Wait. Men still do that?
A quick goodbye and he disappeared into the crowd at the front of the room.
Paige stood, hand hanging in the air, staring at his retreating figure

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Thomas
longs to escape the drudgery of farm life, dreaming of adventure and
running away from his demanding parents.

PlanetRemeon is on the brink of destruction, fighting a crippling disease
that threatens to wipe out their civilization.

Thrust
into their world, Thomas is caught in the middle of telepathic mind
games between the Day Watchers and the Night Dwellers.

Alliances
will be broken. Thoughts will be controlled. Will anyone survive?

I’ve
been writing in one form or another since I was a teenager. My love
of the Fantasy genre goes all the way back to elementary school when
I read The Hobbit for the first time – I’ve been hooked ever since. Icurrently live in Florida with my family, but love the state of
Virginia where I was born. My works include poetry, short stories,
and book two in my YA Fantasy series, Realms of Chaos, is now in
process.

You
can visit my website at www.jwgarrett.com to subscribe to my
newsletter and find out the latest updates regarding new releases and
works in progress.

THOMAS AWOKE WITH a jolt as the stench of urine and animal remains brought him to
the present. He sat up, disoriented and nauseous, and looked around anxiously to gain his bearings.
“Belle! Belle, answer me.” Nothing. No answer or even the faintest noise responded to his pleas.
Darkness enveloped him like a thick, suffocating blanket; breathing was difficult as he gasped for
air among the sick smells assaulting his senses. The now all-too-familiar feeling of panic rose in him
once again as his thoughts returned to his little sister and the strange ships in the sky, haunting
him. Feelings of fear and panic alternated within him, like being hot and cold when he had a fever.
His eyes adjusted somewhat to the darkness, and he made out small details around him. Using his
hands, he combed the walls for clues or any useful information.
His first instincts brought to mind visions of cold, clammy, dark caves. The walls were wet
and uneven, and appeared to be made of rock. He plodded his way around the perimeter, taking
small steps, looking for signs of an opening or exit. He marked his starting point by placing a foot-
long rock on the ground, close to the wall, so he would run into it and know when he had made it
all the way around. When he encountered the rock again, the only additional information he had
gained was that the structure was somewhat oval in shape and made of some type of rock, as he
had envisioned earlier.
After two more times around the space, he thought he felt cracks along the wall that could possibly be
where the door was located. He placed two more rocks at that juncture, identifying that space as well. A
chill came over him from the cool dampness of his surroundings, and he thrust his hands in his
pockets to stay warm. He found his pocketknife, flint and compass there, and he felt comforted but
knew these wouldn’t help him just now but later…maybe later. With every slight movement, his braces
clanked noisily, reminding him of their presence. That in conjunction with the fact that he could not
connect with Arista or Whisterly, made him question if he were actually on Remeon. All he could do
was remain where he was and hope he didn’t starve while he waited for his captors to make themselves
known.
Time passed slowly as he thought back on all that had happened in just a few short months.
Reflections from his stream of consciousness flowed unabated. Utmost in his mind were the
precariousness of his current situation and wondering where Belle was. But also everything else
that had happened to him recently which played a part in landing him right here. He had wished for
this, all of this. He had wanted adventure; he had wanted distance from his family— mainly his pa.
He had wanted to grow up on his own terms and had plans to make that happen.
Next, thinking back on his unexpected illness and the toll on his family, Thomas clearly saw in
his parents’ eyes, when he woke in the hospital, how much they loved and cared for him. But amid the
adventure and danger found on Remeon, he had felt needed in ways he had never experienced on the
farm. Could he really save another race? And would he sacrifice himself to do so?

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