Category: giveaway

Chameleon by Zoe Kalo Genre: YA Paranormal Psychological Suspense

FIVE GIRLS. AN ISOLATED CONVENT. A SUPERNATURAL PRESENCE. A DARK SECRET. SHORTLISTED for the 2017 Dante Rossetti Awards for Young Adult Fiction! I can’t believe it has come to this. The way things have blown out of proportion. I only wanted to contact my dead father. Ask his forgiveness. Seven months. Seven months isn’t that long, is it? I’ll go through the motions, no need to make friends that I’ll never see again. When you get close to people, you end up getting hurt. Puerto Rico, 1973 17-year-old Paloma only wanted to hold a séance to contact her dead father. She never thought she would be kicked out of school and end up in an isolated convent. Now, all she wants is to be left alone. But slowly, she develops a bond with a group of girls: kind-hearted Maria, insolent Silvy, pathological liar Adelita, and their charismatic leader Rubia. At night, the waterfall’s dark music haunts her dreams of drowning… When Paloma holds another séance, she accidentally awakens an entity that has been dormant for years. The body count begins. Someone doesn’t want the secret out… Are the ghost and Paloma’s suspicions real—or only part of her growing paranoia and delusions? If you love the vibes in “The Orphanage,” “The Craft” and “Pretty Little Liars,” you’ll enjoy this mess-with-your-head, YA supernatural/psychological thriller! Add to GoodreadsAmazon * Apple * B&N * Kobo * Smashwords * Website

A certified bookworm, Zoe Kalo has always been obsessed with books and reading. Reading led to writing—compulsively. No surprise that at 16, she wrote her first novel, which her classmates read and passed around secretly. The pleasure of writing and sharing her fantasy worlds has stayed with her, so now she wants to pass her stories to you with no secrecy—but with lots of mystery… She’s had the good fortune of living on 3 continents, learning 4 languages, and experiencing a multicultural life. She holds a BA in Creative Writing and an MA in Comparative Literature. She lives in Belgium with her husband and two evil cats. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

I cannot clearly say how I had entered
the wood; I was so full of sleep just at
the point where I abandoned the true path.
–Dante Alighieri, Inferno 1. 11-12

Chapter 1

Puerto Rico, 1973

Oak trees dripping with Spanish moss embraced us from both sides, but not enough to shield us
from the prison that would be my home for the next seven months. The high stone walls and neo-Gothic
bell tower loomed over us as my stepfather drove his Mercedes through the spiked iron gates and into the
sloping, curving driveway.
A spider of dread crawled up my back. Prison indeed.
I couldn’t believe it had come to this. The way things had blown out of proportion. I’d only
wanted to contact my dead father. Ask his forgiveness.
My mother reached for my hand from the front seat without turning around to look at me. I
stared at her perfectly polished red nails and the glittery square cut emerald on her ring finger. Her fingers
flicked, silently pleading for my attention, but I was frozen inside. Her hand retreated.
I stared at the convent, my eyes studying the dark arched windows, the worn, age-blackened
stones. The place looked haunted. Perfect for my state of mind. What was my mother thinking?
Something moved behind one of the windows. A face. For an instant my pulse raced at the sheer
paleness of it, at the two dark holes that made up its eyes.
“What are you looking at?” Sara, my six-year-old half sister, asked.
I pointed. “A girl.”
She followed my line of vision. “Where?”
“There. High up. In the window.”
She dipped her head so she could have a better look. “I don’t see anything.”
I felt a shiver, but not from the cold. It’s white. It’s watching us.
Then the car moved too close to the building, and the face vanished from view.
“Is this your new school, Paloma?” Sara asked.
I nodded. Sara was the child, female version of my stepfather. Her bottomless dark eyes, framed

by velvety lashes, stared at me with misery. “I don’t like it,” she whispered, grabbing my hand.
“It’ll be okay,” I whispered back, and gave her hand a little squeeze.
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
“Well, here we are,” Domenico said in his strong Castilian accent, stopping the car in front of the
entrance. He climbed out and opened the door for my mother. Then he proceeded to take out my suitcases
from the trunk.
My mother was silent. She stepped out like a wooden mannequin, her eyes shimmery with
unshed tears.
I climbed out, followed by Sara, the gravel crunching under our shoes. The early morning air was
cool and a blanket of mist still lingered—not surprising, since the convent was on the outskirts of El
Yunque, the island’s rain forest. More Spanish moss hung from the oak trees and rippled in the breeze
like long, shivering memories. I could smell the dew on the leaves and the rich perfume of moist earth,
redolent of open graves.
I glanced at the ominous clouds. “Beautiful morning.”
An ongoing distant hum resonated all around us. One, two beats passed, before it struck me:
Waterfall.
Something within me shut down—or exploded, I couldn’t be sure.
I shut my eyes for a second, wiping out memories of chilled water searing my lungs.
I repeated the eighth multiplication table in my head.
“After you,” Domenico said, interrupting my thoughts.
I wanted to loathe him. Tried to, anyway. I could see what my mother saw in him: a powerfully
charismatic, handsome man with the infinite skill to make people do his bidding. My mother, with her
small delicate features and petite frame, looked invisible beside him. A mere spectre. But that was just a
façade. I knew better.
The big oak door opened and a nun clad in black habit and a wimple came down the steps to
greet us.
Sara wrapped her arms around my waist. Her gesture both comforted me and heightened my
anxiety. Nuns in habit made me think of great black birds.
“Bienvenidos,” the nun said. Like my stepfather, she also had a Castilian accent. “I’m Madre
Estela and I’m second in charge to Madre Superiora. You must be Señor and Señora de Aznar.”
They exchanged small talk. Madre Estela sounded polite enough, but she didn’t offer to shake

hands with my parents, which I found strange. Maybe nuns weren’t allowed to shake hands. I wouldn’t be
surprised. I noticed the wedding band on her ring finger. Married to God. Absurd.
“You must be Paloma,” she said tonelessly.
“Yes,” I said. Wasn’t it obvious? I didn’t know what else to say.
The cross on her chest caught my attention. It had a crucified Christ on it and I noticed the thorns
cutting Christ’s forehead, the little drops of blood glistening on His fragile body.
“Welcome to our school, Paloma.” Her critical gaze scrutinized my makeup, my tight jeans.
“I’ve heard much about you.”
I didn’t miss the hint of cold disapproval in her voice. I wasn’t sure how much my parents had
complained about my behavior, but considering I had been kicked out—well, actually, kindly asked to
leave—my previous school in the middle of October, it couldn’t be good.
“Are you ready to resume your senior year of high school?” Stress on resume.
“I can’t wait,” I said. There was no point in being nice—or pretending to be. That just wasn’t me.
I felt miserable and couldn’t hide it. Besides, I could tell from our short exchange that she’d made up her
mind not to like me long before meeting me, and I had the sinking feeling that no matter what I said or
did, her opinion wouldn’t change. I had already been stamped in her Inquisition book, tagged a criminal.
Madre Estela’s stony eyes moved to Sara. My little sister’s arms clutched my waist even tighter.
From the nun’s expression, I could tell she was wondering if I had infected Sara with whatever plague
ailed me. She dismissed us and turned back to my mother and stepfather. “Madre Superiora is expecting
you in her office. Let’s not keep her waiting, shall we not? Don’t concern yourselves with the suitcases.
Someone will come for them shortly.”
They thanked her and followed her up the steps.
“I don’t want to go in,” Sara said.
“It’ll be okay,” I said. I glanced at the window. I wanted to see the pale face again. But there was
nothing.
A drop of rain hit my cheek and I wiped it off. Then I held Sara’s hand and together we walked
up the steps and through the arched doorway.
I felt my throat closing up.
Seven months.
Seven months wasn’t that long, was it? Besides, Thanksgiving break was just around the corner.
Six weeks, to be exact. I had already marked my calendar. I couldn’t wait. I would go through the
motions, no need to make friends that I’d never see again. When you get close to people, you end up

getting hurt.

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Faerie Forged The Magicsmith Book 3 by L.R. Braden Genre: Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Romance

New world, new rules . . . Alex is screwed. She’s due at the fae Court of Enchantment in less than twenty-four hours, but she’s not even close to being ready. Her job is hanging by a fraying thread. There’s a new vampire master in town. And several of her werewolf friends have been captured by the Paranatural Task Force. She’s their best chance for release before the full moon reveals their secret, but the Lord of Enchantment is not someone you keep waiting—even when he happens to be your grandfather. All Alex can do is call in a favor, hope to hell she can survive the plots of the fae court, and hightail it home to salvage her life. One mistake at court could change everything . . . . “Original and riveting.”—Book Likes Blog on A Drop of Magic, Book One of The Magicsmith series “Great plot. Lovable characters. Heart-pounding action.”—Lauren Davis, Netgalley Reviewer on A Drop of Magic Add to GoodreadsAmazon * Apple * B&N * Google * Kobo

Courting Darkness The Magicsmith Book 2

“A great story of murder, mystery . . . and well-developed characters.”— Margie Hager, Netgalley Reviewer on A Drop of Magic “A Drop of Magic is a damned fun and original read, with sass, action, hot men, and a whole lot of magic.” —Diana Pharaoh Francis, author of the Diamond City Magic, Magicfall, and Horngate Witches series Deeper into the shadows. . . The paranatural community isn’t done with Alex. She’s been summoned to the fae court, and she’s got her hands full trying to prepare. But her date with the fae will have to wait. There’s been a death at the gallery, and the man she hoped would be a part of her future is the prime suspect. Bitter enemies pull her into the middle of a paranatural war for territory that has her dodging police, swords, teeth, and claws—not to mention the truth. The deeper she digs, the more secrets she uncovers, and the less certain she is about the innocence of the one man she wanted to trust. She thought she was done with murder and monsters, but she’ll have to enter the belly of the beast if she hopes to save her friend. Add to GoodreadsAmazon * Apple * B&N * Google * Kobo

A Drop of Magic The Magicsmith Book 1

The war isn’t over . . . With the world clinging to a fragile peace forced on the Fae by humanity after the Faerie Wars, metalsmith Alex Blackwood is plunged into the world of the half-fae who traffick in illegal magical artifacts. Her best friend’s murder and his cryptic last message place her in the crosshairs of a scheme to reignite the decade-old war between humans and fae. Worse, violent attacks against her and the arrival of a fae knight on a mission force Alex to face a devastating revelation of who and what she is. To catch a killer, retrieve a dangerous artifact, and stop a war, Alex will have to accept that she’s an unregistered fae “halfer” with a unique magical talent—a talent that would change everything she believes about her past, her art, and her future. Her world is crumbling around her, and Alex will have to decide who to trust if she and the world are going to survive. “A Drop of Magic is a damned fun and original read, with sass, action, hot men, and a whole lot of magic.” —Diana Pharaoh Francis, author of the Diamond City Magic, Magicfall, and Horngate Witches series Add to GoodreadsAmazon * Apple * B&N * Google * Kobo

Born and raised in Colorado, L. R. BRADEN makes her home in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains with her wonderful husband, precocious daughter, and psychotic cat. With degrees in both English literature and metalsmithing, she splits her time between writing and art. Website * Facebook * Amazon * Goodreads $20 Discount code to L.R. Braden’s Etsy Shop!! https://www.etsy.com/shop/WimsiDesign

MY BREATH PUFFED out in angry little clouds as I shivered under the star-streaked sky that
stretched above my patch of frozen mountain. Jaw clenched, I shoved a key into the lock on my
front door with enough force to jerk the purse off my shoulder. It slid down, snagging at my
elbow, and the shift in weight jostled the dome-covered cake balanced in my other hand.
I couldn’t believe James had stood me up again. After all his promises. Twenty minutes
standing outside his house. Then a quick call about unavoidable business at the gallery. Sure
he’d apologized, given me his
usual line about making it up to me “another time.” But another time never seemed to come for
James and me.
I twisted the keys. Those not in the lock dug into my palm.
Another time. If he said those words again, I was going to run him over with my Jeep.
The door stuck, swollen by moisture. I growled and pushed harder, hissing when my weight
settled onto the freshly re-knit muscles of my right leg. I gave the door another shove, and it
finally gave way, slamming
into the adjoining wall with a bang, my keys still dangling from the lock.
I froze in the doorway. My living room was occupied.
I’d been looking forward to curling up with my cake and my anger. Habits formed through years
of solitude were hard to break, and I still wasn’t used to having roommates. Company was going
to put a serious crimp in my plans.
Kai and Chase were sitting across from each other on my faded furniture, cards and poker chips
on the coffee table between them. Neither seemed surprised by my dramatic entrance.
“You’re home early.” Kai glanced in my direction, and his eyes were swirling galaxies of color
rather than the deep brown of his glamour—the human disguise he wore less and less these
days. He was a fae knight from the Realm of Enchantment who’d been living in my guest room
for about a month, most of which was spent saving the world from a murderer with a magic,
world-eating box. He cradled a hand of cards to his chest so his opponent couldn’t cheat. “Didn’t
think we’d see you till much later.”
“Or tomorrow,” added Chase without looking up.
I’d let Chase into my home when I thought he was just a cat, before I knew he was actually a
fae who could change form at will. I let him stay because he saved my life. Of course, when I
made that deal, the understanding was that he’d remain the gray tabby I’d taken in last summer,
but he’d been spending more time with fingers than fur lately.
“Call.” He dumped a handful of colorful plastic chips onto the pile already on the table.
“Yeah well . . .” I pulled my key out of the door and kicked it closed behind me. “Plans change.”
Chase glanced up and raised a silver eyebrow over one luminous green eye. “You’ve replaced
James with a cake?”
The plastic dome I hugged gave a clear view of the decadent chocolate cake I’d picked up on
my way home.
“This is my consolation prize.” I lifted my chin and carried the calorie-laden confection to the
high counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. “Don’t judge me.”
“Let me guess.” Chase tossed his long silver braid behind his shoulder, making his pointed,
slightly furry ears twitch. “Something came up.”
“Again,” Kai added. He spread his cards on the table. “Two pair.”
“Full house,” Chase said with a grin. He scooped up his winnings.
Kai looked over at me. “It’s important to know when to fold.”
I’d been thinking the same thing all the long drive home. I’d done my best with James. I’d really
put myself out there. But after all the excuses, and conflicting schedules, and missed dates. . . .
I’d been down this road enough to know where it ended. I’d had my fill of waiting for men who
never showed up. Still, I wasn’t about to give Kai the satisfaction of an “I told you so.”
I crossed my arms and dropped onto the couch next to Kai. “That little tip just lost you a piece of
cake.”
His smile went slack. Kai had the biggest sweet tooth I’d ever seen.
“You’ll get fat if you eat it all on your own.”
I gestured to Chase, who was stacking his winnings into neat little piles. “Chase can help me.”
Chase shook his head. “Cats don’t eat chocolate.”
“They don’t normally eat pizza either, but that’s never stopped you.” I “accidentally” nudged the

coffee table with my knee, sending Chase’s carefully stacked poker chips cascading across the
surface.
“Hey! Don’t get pissy at me just because your old stiff couldn’t follow through.”
“James is not an old stiff,” I said. “He’s refined. Something you wouldn’t understand.”
He snorted. “Whatever you say.”
I turned to Kai. “Back me up here.”
“Will it earn me some cake?”
“Ha,” roared Chase. “Spineless elf.”
“Mangy stray,” Kai shot back.
Chase took a bow and began to melt, shrinking and shifting until a gray tabby sat on the faded
beige cushion of Chase’s chair.
Sighing, I lifted a blue poker chip and rolled it over my knuckles.
“What were you betting?”
Kai tipped his head to one side and frowned. “Little bits of colored plastic, obviously.”
I rolled my eyes and tossed the chip back on the pile. “The chips are usually backed by money,
but I guess you and Chase aren’t exactly rolling in human cash.”
“Actually, I received my first paycheck last week.”
When Kai made the decision to stick around the mortal realm to instruct me in all things fae, he
also started working part-time at a convenience store owned by a registered halfer who owed
him a favor.
The job was dull, but necessary to get a work visa from the PTF—the Paranatural Task Force
that policed interactions between humans and fae—which was the only way a full-blooded fae
could legally stay in the
human realm.
“Congratulations.”
“I’ve been thinking about what to do with it, though I hadn’t considered rolling in it. I believe
humans have a custom of paying a portion of the expense of shared living space, so I thought I
might do that.”
“You mean rent?”
He thrust a finger at me. “Exactly. What do I owe you?”
I lifted one shoulder. “On the house.”
“Yes. What do I owe on the house?”
I rolled my eyes. “It means forget about it. I don’t need your money.”
“Are we not roommates?”
“Sure, but it’s not like this is a permanent arrangement. We haven’t even talked about what
happens after my trip to court.” My breath hitched, as it often did when anyone mentioned my
summons to the fae

Court of Enchantment. Kai had convinced the powers-that-be— namely my long-lost great-
grandfather—that I wasn’t ready, hence his new job as my personal tutor. But we had no idea

how long the arrangement
would last. Maybe I’d never be ready for life among the fae.
He frowned. “I still feel I should contribute.”
“How about groceries? Between you and Chase, the fridge is almost always empty.”
“Deal.” He thrust out his hand, and I shook it, trying not to laugh at his triumphant expression.
Chase, who’d been watching our exchange, perked up at the word “groceries.” Once the deal
was struck, he sprang into my lap and nuzzled his head against my chin.
Without thinking, I stroked his back and scratched around his ears.
“You know that’s still Chase, right?” Kai watched us with a mixture of amusement and
frustration. “You shouldn’t treat him differently just because he looks like a cat.”
I shrugged. “I can’t help it.”
Kai made a disgusted noise and scooped the cat out of my lap, dropping him unceremoniously
to the floor. Chase gave an indignant hiss and sauntered off.
“If you can’t even deal with that riffraff, how do you expect to get by at court?”
I nibbled a piece of loose cuticle and hunched deeper into the sagging couch cushion, wishing
for the millionth time that life could go back to the way it was before Kai showed up at my door.
Back when I
thought I was human.

Most halfers—fae-human hybrids—returned to their regular lives after registering with the PTF,
but that wasn’t an option for me. Unlike the vast majority of fae offspring, I wasn’t allergic to
metal. Hell, it was
how I made my living. And according to Kai, there was only one bloodline capable of producing
fae that could handle iron. That was why Kai was still there, why I had to take faerie protocol
lessons, and why
Uncle Sol, the man who’d raised me since a car crash killed my mom, was doing his best to
keep my name off the PTF registry.
I rubbed the intricate tattoo that wound its way up my right arm.
Learning I was the by-blow of a fae-human love affair untold generations ago had been a hard
pill to swallow. Finding out I was royal had been a kick in the head.
“I still don’t see why I have to go. Your mission was a success, the killer was brought to justice,
and gramps got back his magic death-box.
Why can’t we just leave it at that and all go our merry ways?”
Kai pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’ve gone over this. There is no going back. The gift my
lord gave you to boost your powers also marked you as his blood-kin. There’s no hiding who
you are now.”
“I could hide just fine if I stayed here,” I argued. “But parading around a fae court with the Lord
of Enchantment is going to make me pretty damn conspicuous.”
There was a time I would have been happy to have a long-lost relative come and claim me, as
any orphan would, but I held no delusion that he’d found me out of kinship or caring. I was one
of only three
living imbuers—a rare gift. No fae would pass up his claim to an imbuer, regardless of how
tenuous the connection or how weak the blood of the halfer.
Kai rolled his eyes—an expression I was pretty sure he’d picked up from me. “You’re a member
of the court now, like it or not. If you don’t go to them they will eventually come to you, and I
guarantee you would not enjoy that experience. In either case, learning our customs and
traditions is the best way to protect yourself. Besides, there’s no one in this world or any other
who can instruct you in the art of imbuing as well as my lord.”
I crossed my arms, frowning. “My abilities are fine the way they are.”
Truth be told, there was a lot I still had to learn about my powers, and magic in general, but that
was the one subject Kai had steadfastly refused to cover. Mostly our sessions consisted of
mind-numbing etiquette
and history lessons, although he’d recently begun teaching me how to fight with a sword.
“It’s important for you to understand how the fae world works before you take your place in it. To
that end . . .” He picked up an old leather-bound book from a pile on the floor and held it out. “A
little light
reading before bed.”
“Haven’t I suffered enough tonight?”
“It’s the chronicle of your family tree. I thought you might be interested to see where you came
from.”
“I know where I come from,” I snapped, but I took the proffered tome just the same.
“You know less about yourself than anyone I’ve ever met.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Never mind.” He waved his hand as if wiping the words away.
“I’m turning in. I have an early shift at the store tomorrow.”
“How’s that going, by the way?”
He shrugged. “I play tricks on the customers to entertain myself when it’s slow.”
My jaw dropped. “If someone reports you, your visa will be revoked.
You’ll be deported back to the reservation.”
“Don’t worry.” He grinned. “Humans haven’t got a clue.”
I scowled. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

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Messages From Metatron: A Course in Self-Transformation by Devi Nina Bingham Genre: Non-Fiction

If you liked, “A Course In Miracles” you will love, “Messages From Metatron: A Course In Self-Transformation.” Readers are calling it “captivating” and “astounding.” This channeled masterpiece offers 30 messages from the highest Archangel, Metatron. It includes a Study Guide with questions and exercises for individuals or groups. Devi Nina Bingham has compiled an extraordinary program for self-transformation, assisting men and women in discovering their purpose, or “Life Chart.” In a series of irresistible dialogues, “Messages From Metatron” stretches the limits of what is known about the cosmos to the breaking point. An absorbing read that will convince you of the reality of angels! AN INTRODUCTION TO MESSAGES FROM METATRON: Messages From Metatron is a curriculum for those seeking to achieve spiritual transformation. The underlying themes are that humanity is one, and you are an indispensable part of the Cosmic design. It consists of a text and a workbook for students and is created for individual or group use. It is a three-book curriculum teaching a non-denominational and universal spirituality. The language of the course is Christian in nature, yet includes channeled information on such fascinating and thought-provoking metaphysical subjects as: *A Mother God *Spirit Guides and Angels *Enlightenment *Transgender and Same-Sex *Soulmates *Karma *Intuition & ESP *The Multiverse, Parallel Universes and Holographic you * The Oversoul * The Akashic Record * The Future. The Workbook for Students includes 30 lessons that allow you to apply the messages to your life. Study a lesson per day to work through the Course in 1 month’s time! Or, absorb a lesson anytime you need to be reminded of the uplifting messages of love and peace. This Course in Self-Transformation was channeled by Devi Nina Bingham, MS who describes the Course as “a method to change the world by changing yourself.” Nina earned an AA in Psychology, a BA in Applied Psychology, and completed her MS in Mental Health Counseling program. She is also a master-level Clinical Hypnotherapist and a Certified Sound Therapist using Tuning Fork Acupuncture. Goodreads * Amazon

(Devi) Nina Bingham is an award-winning Author, Life Coach, Clinical Hypnotherapist, Certified Sound Therapist and life voyager. She strives to inspire conscious living and conscious dialogue. Nina earned an AA in Psychology, a BA in Applied Psychology, and completed her MS in Mental Health Counseling program. Nina lives with her dog and can be found paddling her kayak on Arizona lakes where he serves as the fearless captain. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads * YouTube https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/999234

Message 16-Soulmates
“Have you ever felt a strong attraction for someone, even when it was
against your better judgement? Have you ever felt comfortable with
someone instantaneously, as if you’ve known them forever? These are
signs of a karmic tie. You can be tied, or strongly connected to another
Soul, energetically; even many Souls in a single lifetime. It is what
makes parting with these people extra painful. One part of you will
always feel that it’s wrong to part, for your heart has already recorded
your history together. The imprint of a Soulmate can cause a strong
attraction that defies reason. You will not have just one or two
Soulmates; you will have a multitude of Soulmates. And, the more the
better, because they will help you learn lessons expediently and allow
karma to be reduced quickly. While it may be a daunting proposition
to meet more than one Soulmate in a single lifetime, you are blessed
to meet them. Nothing works you through quite like a Soulmate.
The characteristics of a Soulmate are simple: you can recognize them
because either they will be your teacher, or they will be your student.
Lessons can be painful, or lessons can heal you, but Soulmates will
reveal your true nature. They will be mirrors that force you to see who
you really are. Soulmate relationships are often difficult, turbulent
and intense. When they walk away or die, you are left holding the
lesson they delivered; many times, they are transient relationships.
You will be done assisting them when one of you moves on, whether
through a relational breakup, divorce, or death. However it happens,
it was supposed to happen as it did; there is freedom in knowing that.
Don’t try and force a Soulmate to stay, for perhaps the other has given
all their Soul agreed to give. Walk through life with an open hand. Be
willing to let go, and in so doing, you set another free. Every
exchange, including every tear and joy that your Soulmate caused was
a gift to you. If you see relationships as a tool for your development,
you’ll be grateful for the sunshine but also for the rain. Try not to be
bitter. Remember-they have fulfilled their sacred contract with you,
and you must honor that which is sacred between you. Soulmates
come in the form of family, friends, or lovers. It’s easiest to sense a
Soulmate in a lover because of the undeniable, magnetic pull you feel
towards them. Your family members are Soulmates, especially
parents and children. You may be asking: why did I pick people so

challenging? When constructing your Life Chart, you contract with
other Souls to “play a part” in each other’s lives. You even agree on the
severity of the test or lesson. You may pick the most troublesome
Soulmates as family members for the express purpose of expediting
your Soul’s growth. For this reason, you may have a different
temperament than family members and a different agenda.
Ah, the agenda…let’s discuss this crucial aspect of the Soulmate
connection, because the agenda plays a pivotal role in karmic ties.
Each of you has a set of characteristics that defines you called a
personality. You also have a temperament, either outgoing or easy
going. Your personality, or the way you express yourself in the world,
can vary greatly from life to life. In one incarnation you may be an
introverted female while in the next you are an extroverted male. The
agenda I referred to are the events, or the fixed script that the Soul
must follow during a lifetime. This script is written by your Soul for
your Soul, with the cooperation of Soulmates, and is authorized and
orchestrated by your Oversoul.
Once your agenda is approved on the Other Side, you carry this plan
into your next incarnation, but the details of these relationships are
up to you. Most day-to-day decisions aren’t written in the script, so
you find yourself ad-libbing a lot. This is probably why you feel
confused or frustrated, because nobody said figuring it out was going
to be easy! This is where the Soulmate attraction becomes helpful.
Because you have a karmic tie with a Soulmate, your Soul feels an
instant recognition-you have discovered a special person. There’s that
magic moment of: “There you are!”. You’ll experience feelings of
immediate comfort, familiarity or attraction. This magnetic pull is the
glue that will bond you until you complete your contract. Parting may
seem wrong, unfair, or like you have unfinished business, because you
do. One of you may feel the karma stronger than the other; one Soul
may unconsciously “remember” past-life bonds, insisting that it
shouldn’t end. Indeed, for them, the work between you feels urgently
incomplete, unfinished. But you will see that Soul in another
incarnation in a different form. It’s helpful to remember that
Soulmates are a blessing, whether they have been pleasurable or
painful, because they helped you learn something. Never think that a
Soulmate was a waste of time, nothing could be farther from the
truth. Together, you’ve ingeniously engineered it so that eventually,

over many lifetimes, you will both come to terms with the ultimate
lesson, for: “As above, so below” (Matthew 6: 9). At present, you may
be suffering many unfinished situations, but no matter, for one fine
day all will be well between you. Until then, remember to make your
words tender (for in another lifetime you may have to eat them).
It can be difficult to give thanks for the most painful experiences
you’ve had. Yet, the advanced Soul sees beyond the pain to the lesson
learned. Give thanks, for every lesson taught you something valuable.
When you look back, ask yourself: “What did I learn from this
Soulmate, and, what did I teach this Soulmate?” There’s something to
be learned from every person. Maybe you learned what not to do, or
maybe you learned about the nature of evil. Maybe you learned how it
feels to be a victim. Maybe you learned how to forgive. Maybe this

Soulmate taught you to be what you said you’d never become. All of it-
even the destruction will be used, collected like pieces of a puzzle,

gathered back together on The Other Side for your betterment. You
can’t possibly tell which Soulmate will be the most important. You
might be surprised to find that the most horrific of them caused you
to grow the most. The ones who taught you not to trust caused you to
have to trust again, and the ones that caused you to close the door are
the same ones who, in time, caused you to be strong enough to open
that door. All Soulmates will come into your life when you need them,
leaving you with a tremendous gift, sometimes painful, sometimes
pleasant-but always essential for your Soul’s perfecting.”

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Deleted by Ruth Mitchell Genre: YA Speculative

Lucy Campbell is the last person you’d expect to hack minds. The college freshman prefers vintage technology, old books and retro fashion. But when she makes a fool of herself in front of her crush, Marco Han, she wishes she could erase the whole episode from his brilliant mind. She’s shocked to learn that her older sister, Mollie, can do just that. Mollie tells Lucy she’s found a way to delete people’s memories via Spex, the thought-activated successor to smart phones and Google Glass. Yet, when Mollie breaks into Marco’s mind, she decides not to erase any embarrassing moments because he already has a crush on Lucy. Encouraged by her sister’s discovery, Lucy stops avoiding Marco. Soon, the two are dating, and Marco, a tech guru in his own right, elevates Mollie’s mind hacking from a guilty pleasure to an efficient crime-solving tool. As the three infiltrate more minds, they realize they’re not the only ones who can steal memories. Marco suddenly forgets Lucy; and Mollie forgets that she could ever mind hack. Lucy’s mind should be safe because she doesn’t wear Spex. But then the mysterious hacker, Nick Lethe, comes after her in person. Lucy flees to the woods, the only place safe from the surveillance of the ubiquitous Spex. If Nick finds her, he’ll erase her memories or worse. If she doesn’t find him –and stop him — no one will know that minds can be hacked and lives rewritten. Goodreads * Amazon

RUTH MITCHELL lives in San Diego with her husband and four marvelous children. Whether she’s writing science fiction, contemporary Rom Com or a women’s fiction ghost story, she strives to create clean, smart books with lots of heart. Currently her only published book is DELETED. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Amazon * Goodreads

CHAPTER 1
Every night before he goes to bed, Nick erases himself from everyone’s memory.
It can be lonely having no one remember him, but it’s the only way he can accomplish his work. And…
it’s not a bad life. There’s incredible freedom in being anonymous. Besides, memories and all the petty
relationships people construct around them are a total sham.
In truth, each day is like a note with the instructions: burn after reading. Life is the burning. The best part.
By the time we hit our pillows most of the day is obliterated. We’ve forgotten what we ate for breakfast,
the exact words of a conversation, the face of a stranger. All that remains are ashes and a few random
scraps that won’t burn. A look. A taste. A feeling. People hoard these scraps, piece them together, string
them into a narrative and pretend it’s life. But it’s not. Life, reality—whatever you want to call it—has
already gone up in smoke.
Nick knows this. He knows that none of the memories he scans is completely true. But they’re his only
chance to find her. Last night he didn’t sleep. He spent the entire night searching for Lucy, the one person
who remembers him, the only mind he hasn’t been able to hack.
He stands in his living room, surrounded by footage of a freckled girl with messy hair. Discrete lenses in
the ceiling project dozens of images on white walls. He watches without sound or context, still catching
the key details. This skill is how, even as a college drop-out, Nick was able to purchase this oceanfront
condo before his twenty-first birthday. This morning the view’s nothing more than thick fog, like the
layer of clouds seen through an airplane window.
The memories of those closest to Lucy flicker on the north wall. On the opposite side flash the illicit
memories of his clients. A large glass desk near the window reflects and distorts images from both sides.
The rest of the room is empty except for some workout equipment: a stationary bike, a weight-lifting
bench, and a treadmill, each a lonely island in a sea of gray wood flooring. Nick works out while he scans
footage. He’s nothing, if not efficient.
He runs on his treadmill, watching another Lucy memory, this one taken from her hot friend, Karen.
The two girls sit on a quilt on a sunny scrap of lawn outside the computer science building—waiting.
“I can’t believe it’s February.” Lucy wears a yellow sundress. Her freckled shoulders a little pink with
sunburn. “This morning my mom sent me pictures of her car buried in snow.”
“I know, right? This perfect weather is freaky,” answers Karen. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to living
without seasons. But it does help stalking.”
“It’s not stalking,” Lucy says with a self-deprecating laugh. “It’s caring.”
Nick laughs. Amen sister!
“Did I tell you what happened Tuesday?” Lucy is too excited to wait for an answer. “He sat at that very
bench and, drum roll…” She plays air drums and hits an air cymbal. “Ding! He smiled at me!”
“How do you know he wasn’t watching something funny on his Spex?”
“Give me some credit. Even if I don’t use Spex, I can tell when someone is on theirs. He smiled right at
me.”
“Congratulations! But I still say you are doing this the hard way. Why don’t you sign up for his class?
That way you could gawk at him twice a week like the rest of us and get credit for it.”
Nick can’t see Karen in this memory. But after spending a night scanning recollections of Lucy, he has a
good idea what her best friend looks like. She’s short, well-built, always wears workout clothes, and her
white blonde hair is styled in a pixie cut with a blue streak.
“Can you see me in computer science? I’d be the only one without Spex.”
“Sweetie, you’re the only one on campus without Spex.”
“That’s my point. I don’t belong in computer science. I belong in a ratty, old armchair reading the
thoughts of dead men.”
“While spying on live ones?”

“Something like that.”
“Lucky for you, I’m an excellent stalker and a good friend. I took some photos for you in class today. I’m
sending them now with a couple shots from the beach yesterday.”
Karen thinks, Charlotte: Send Lucy photos from yesterday taken at La Jolla Shores and the ones from
class today.
“With pleasure!” A female voice with a slight Boston accent whispers in her earpiece. “Sending Lucy
Campbell eleven photos.”
Lucy takes her phone out of her backpack. She pauses on the picture of Marco lecturing. Karen leans over
to admire it, too.
“You might be right.” Lucy downloads the photos. “Maybe I should take his class.”
“You have to. He’s the best TA. I mean it’s not just that he’s a genius and all that. His enthusiasm is
contagious, and he remembers everyone by name.”
“Of course, he does. He made his fortune with his Good with Names app.”
“And he’s not even too old for you. He started college when he was like fifteen.”
“I know. Trust me. I’ve Googled him plenty. What sort of stalker do you think I am?”
“We’ve already established that you’re not a very good one. No one can truly stalk without Spex. You
should try mine. They’re the latest model. They have telescopic lenses.”
“Cool! Maybe I will. Wait! That’s him!”
Marco Han’s black mop of hair emerges from the building.
Karen thinks, Charlotte: Zoom. Immediately in her right lens “Zoom 2x” appears. Marco’s wearing a
faded blue Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts and frayed flip-flops. Karen’s left lens top corner, reads, “Marco
Han, 19, single, UCSD Grad Student” along with a link to his social network page. Both girls let out an
audible sigh.
What do they see in this dude? thinks Nick. Look at how he dresses! It’s all because he’s rich. I’m rich!
Marco hops on his board and skates across the wide pathway to the edge of the lawn to where they are
sitting.
“Hey Karen, new Spex?” He flips up his board.
“Yeah, I got them last week.” Karen stands up to greet him. Lucy remains on the blanket, her eyes fixed
on the ground. The afternoon sun illuminates her reddish-brown mane of hair.
Marco and Karen ooh and aah over the new Spex, Lucy sneaks a look at Marco who is trying on the new
glasses and appears ridiculous in the retro frames with rhinestones in the winged tips. She stifles a laugh.
He looks her way.
“No Spex, huh?”
She tries to play it cool. “Not my thing.”
“Seriously? I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone over eight without a mindseye.”
“Tell me about it!” Nick hollers at the screen. What is wrong with this girl? If she wore Spex, I’d have
found her by now.
“I’m Marco, by the way.” He returns Karen’s Spex and sits down next to Lucy.
“Lucy.”
“Right, I see you all the time.”
“I bet you do.” Karen snickers. Nick laughs too.
“So, why no Spex?” he asks.
She takes a steadying breath before answering. “I like to see the world through my own eyes. I don’t want
to be distracted.

“That’s ludicrous,” says Marco. “That’s like going around with your eyes closed so you’re not distracted
by the clouds and the trees and meeting new people.” He talks with his hands, pointing to the clouds and
trees as he mentions them.
“My eyes are wide open and I just met you.” She smiles big. “You’re new.”
“Sure, but you’re closed to another layer of reality.” He waves a hand in front of her face. “Spex bring the
whole world to you.” He pops the iridescent earpiece out of his ear. “This baby can hold every recording
in the last century as well as every movie made in my lifetime. Why wouldn’t you want one?”
“I have funny ideas…”
“She wants to keep her mind pure.”
“I just don’t think it’s that big of a leap from our thoughts controlling Spex to Spex controlling our
thoughts.”
Marco laughs outright. “We lost that battle long ago. All media directs our thoughts. Be it a book or a
movie. It doesn’t matter if you see that movie in a theater or watch it while you’re walking to class. Or in
class, like some of my students…”
She interrupts, “‘It’s the movies that have been really running things in America.’”
“Nice! Andy Warhol!” He points at her. “I love that quote. And it proves my argument.”
“Nah, it proves mine. It’s harder to separate your thoughts from others’ when you hear their ideas in your
own head.”
“You’re hearing my arguments in your head right now. Your brain’s translating the sound waves picked
up by your ears. What’s the difference?”
“He’s right,” says Karen.
“The difference is that the businesses who own apps and search engines want to suck up as much of my
time as they can. To make money, they need my attention. If I take too much time to think for myself,
they don’t make money. I don’t want Spex to crowd out my own thoughts.”
“Heaven forbid! It’s obvious you have a gorgeous mind. I appreciate your desire to protect it. But Spex,
used judiciously, only amplify a great mind.”
“That is…” She gives him a saucy look. “…if you don’t spend your whole day, gaming or binging on
TV.”
“Point for Lucy,” says Karen. “It’s a tie: one for Marco and one for you.”
“What I want to know is how you manage your classes without Spex,” he asks.
“I remember things.”
“I bet you do. But you’d have to remember a lot. What was once called cheating is now applied
knowledge.
“When I don’t know something, I look it up—the old-fashioned way.”
“You don’t have?”
She pulls her iPhone out of her backpack. “Yep, vintage.”
“Can I see it? Everything still works?”
“Pretty much. Whenever something breaks, my sister fixes it.” She hands him the phone. “She’s a
computer genius. She used to hack for the government.”
“Hey! 2048!” He fiddles with the phone with childish delight.
“I used to play that on my dad’s phone on my way to preschool. Can I play it on yours? It’s not the same
on Spex.”
“So, you concede? Spex are not superior in all ways?”
“Only if you let me play 2048!” He’s engrossed by the phone. “Hey, nice photo. You’re cute in a
swimsuit.”

“Don’t go through my photos!” Lucy grabs her phone.
He gives it back to her with a smirk. “You know, if you wanted my picture you could have Googled me.”
Lucy doesn’t answer. She stands up, turns around and runs.
Marco chases after her. Karen laughs, so does Nick. And then he deletes the memory.

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Blown Away The Crimes of Passion Series Book 2 by Charlene Johnson Genre: Romantic Suspense

Zack Daniels grew up in a rundown apartment complex off the Las Vegas Strip. At an early age, he learned to protect and support his mother and sister with determination and grit. After his sister is raped by the son of a local Russian mobster and commits suicide, he joins the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police to seek justice for her and to protect the public. When a high-profile executive is murdered in his best friend’s hotel, Zack is assigned to track down the killer. The sole witness to the murder is a beautiful high-priced escort. He must let go of his vendetta against his sister’s rapist to work the case. Sonnet Banks goes to the wrong hotel room and witnesses a murder. She is stunned. She knows the killer. He’s someone from her past. Someone she hoped to never see again. During her police interview, Sonnet tells Zack she doesn’t recognize the killer, but Zack is convinced she’s lying. Zack needs the lovely, evasive woman to tell him what she knows and is willing to use seduction to get it. Yet, was it still seduction when all he could do was think about her? Zack Daniels is so hot he makes Sonnet’s knees weak. He checks every box for her. Every box. But even if he wasn’t her protector, she can’t risk getting close to him or anyone. And she can’t tell him the truth. After a bold attempt on Sonnet’s life, Zack enlists the help of two close friends and someone completely unexpected to protect her. The countdown to an all-out war looms before them. Would they all survive? Time was running out. Add to GoodreadsAmazon * Apple * B&N * Kobo

Charlene is a Waynesburg, Pennsylvania native. She went to Waynesburg High School and graduated Cum Laude from Waynesburg College with a Bachelor’s Degree in Liberal Arts. Currently lives in Sacramento, California where she spent the last 33 years working at Northrop Grumman. Books have always been her passion. She started reading at an early age and progressed to full-length books by age nine. The first supernatural book series she read was Dark Shadows, and it sparked her interest in all things paranormal, with a spicy touch of romance mixed in for good measure. She also started writing poetry in grade school and continues to do so today. Being an avid reader, the consummate daydreamer and an incurable romantic with a Cinderella complex, she started creating her own characters and storylines because she realized she had her own stories to tell. She is married and has a son, a daughter, and four beautiful grandchildren. Besides reading and writing, she also enjoys photography, travel, music, and great movies. Website * Facebook * Readers Group * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads * Newsletter

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