Friday, October 25, 2013

Ghost Hand (The PSS Chronicles #1) by Ripley Patton ~ Book Review~ First Chapter

Ghost Hand (The PSS Chronicles #1)
by Ripley Patton
 photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png

Seventeen-year-old Olivia Black has a rare birth defect known as Psyche Sans Soma, or PSS. Instead of a right hand made of flesh and blood, she was born with a hand made of ethereal energy.

How does Olivia handle being the girl with the ghost hand? Well, she's a little bit morbid and a whole lot snarky. 

Her mother thinks her obsession with death, black clothing, and the local cemetery is a bid for attention. But when Marcus, the new guy in Olivia's calculus class, stares at her like she's a freak, Olivia doesn't like it. And when her hand goes rogue, doing things she never imagined possible, Olivia finds herself running for her life with Marcus from a group of men bent on taking the power of her hand for their own nefarious purposes.

About the Author
Ripley Patton lives in Portland, Oregon with one cat, two teenagers, and a man who wants to live on a boat. She is an award-winning short story writer and author of The PSS Chronicles, a young adult paranormal thriller series.
Ripley doesn't smoke, or drink, or cuss as much as her characters. Her only real vices are writing, eating M&Ms, and watching reality television.

Author Links

Wow, what a great book! I was so hooked from the first few pages, and that doesn’t happen to me very often. See I was supposed to be reading another book for a tour, but had not put it in my Kindle yet, so just randomly picked a book I had on there now, and knew it was one I needed to read soon, and bam, was hooked and could not stop reading till I was done. Lol. Yeah, it’s that good.

I took just a bit to warm up to Olivia, but did pretty soon. I really liked Marcus, and the mystery surrounding him. I think he is a wonderful person to do what he does to help other like himself and Olivia.

This whole idea of the PSS (Psyche Sans Soma) was unique, which of course I never heard of and thought it was very interesting, even if it was a bit hard to believe at first.  But the paranormal lover in me got my head around it pretty quick and went on and really got into this story.
I can’t wait to get my hands on the 2nd book, Ghost Hold. I loved how this book did not end in some climatic cliffhanger, which I hate, so will for sure continue with the series. I now got to where if there is a huge cliffhanger in a series, I generally won’t read the next, as it just makes me so mad I get fed up. I only will continue a series like that after several books in it are out, then I will read them back to back.

So I love the ending, it was just right, pointing to more to come, but not where you want to throw the book against the wall.

I highly recommend this book, especially if you’re looking for something a little different than so many books out there.

I give it 5 out of 5 stars. It’s very well written, and original. I also love that the author lives in my part of the country, I think that's cool. 

I was provided a copy of this book from the author for my honest review.

Here is a taste for you, just Chapter one, get a taste of the story, and possibly get you hooked like I was. Lol.

Chapter One Ghost Hand
Five minutes into my Calc test, I glanced up and caught the new guy staring.
He sat across the aisle from me, his eyes locked on my glowy, see-through right hand and the pencil that hovered between my fingers, never quite touching them.
I slowly set my pencil on my desk.
His eyes tracked my movements, still staring.
I raised my fingers and wiggled them at him in a cheesy little wave. Normally, that was enough to make people turn away and try not to notice my ghost hand. But not this guy. Instead, he looked up, straight into my eyes with this way-too-intense gaze.
God, what was his problem? So I had PSS of the right hand. Psyche Sans Soma was a rare birth defect, but most people had at least heard of it. The internet had loads of stuff about PSS, and Sixty Minutes had done a whole segment on it for Christ’s sake. Besides, hadn’t anyone taught him that staring was rude?
I curled my hand into a fist and flipped him off, glaring at him through my own finger.
He raised his eyebrows and finally looked away, but I didn’t miss the smirk that played across his lips as he did.
Why were the hot ones always such cocky, self-absorbed douche bags?
Unfortunately, there was no denying he was good-looking. He had black hair, brown eyes, dark skin; not a tan but the kind that comes with your DNA. And he definitely had a nice body.
He glanced up from his test, caught me checking him out, and smirked even wider than before.
I felt the blush rise to my face and picked up my pencil, pretending to focus on the test, but after reading the next question four times, I still didn’t know what it said. What kind of a jerk comes into a new town and a new school, and spends the first day of his Calc class trying to make someone else feel like a freak? He was the noob; not me. He was the mid-semester transfer no one knew anything about except that he was from a school up near Chicago. And what was his name anyway? Seemed liked it began with a J. Or maybe an M.
At least he’d finally turned his attention away from me, his pencil scratching out answers the way mine should have been. He didn’t even have to take the test. Since it was his first day, Mr. Giannopoulos had given him permission to opt out, but New Guy had said, “That’s fine. I’ll take it.” Very studious of him. And annoying. Who takes a test when they don’t have to?
“Twenty minutes remaining,” Mr. G droned from his desk. Great. The test was twenty problems long, and I was only on number five.
The clock on the wall behind Mr. G ticked louder and louder as I scribbled down answers.
On question seven, my pencil tip snapped, the tiny mouse turd of lead rolling down the incline of my desk and dropping into my lap. I dug out another pencil from the coffin-shaped leather backpack at my feet, and that’s when I noticed that my ghost hand felt warm, which was weird. PSS wasn’t temperature sensitive. I’d held my hand over an open flame and stuck it in a bucket of ice, both times on a dare, and never felt a thing.
I rolled the new pencil between my warm ghost fingers. Weird or not, I had a test to finish.
“Ten minutes left,” Mr. G said when I’d only just answered question eight.
Passion Wainwright, who sat in front of me, got up from her desk and turned in her test. She was done already? Then again, Passion was the best student in the entire senior class. She pretty much had to be because she was the local pastor’s daughter. Her parents had named her after The Passion of Christ, this Easter play her church did every year in which Passion always played the Virgin Mary. The part actually fit her pretty well, because despite being blonde and skinny and beautiful, guys did not pursue Passion Wainwright. She wore turtlenecks, long-sleeved shirts, and long pants, even when it was warm, as if her wardrobe were some kind of “Do Not Enter” sign. She had a permanent parental waiver against changing for gym class because showing skin and wearing vintage nineties gym shorts was against her religion or something. Most days, I just felt sorry for her. Except when she turned in her Calc test with ten minutes to spare.
“Focus, Olivia,” I told myself, but the heat in my fingers was bordering on uncomfortable. I could always write with my other hand; I was ambidextrous. But if I switched, New Guy would think he’d made me self-conscious with all his staring. No way was I giving him that satisfaction. I gripped the pencil tighter in my hot little hand and soldiered on.
Passion came back, sat down, and pulled out her Bible for a little light reading.
I flicked a glance at New Guy, but he wasn’t there. He was up at Mr. G’s desk turning in his test. I hadn’t even heard him get up. I clutched my pencil and tried to answer question nine. I heard the rustle of New Guy sitting back down and caught a whiff of his cologne or deodorant—the smell of pine overlaid with a faint hint of smoke. It made me think of campfires, which made me think of how much my ghost hand felt like it was roasting over one.
I looked down at it and saw that my fingers were shimmering around the edges. I yanked my hand under the desk, sending my pencil clattering to the floor.
It landed in the aisle and rolled toward New Guy’s desk. He put out a foot, trapping it, and kicked it back my direction, his glance following its progress as it came back to me, bumping up against the thick sole of my boot. His eyes rose up my multi-buckled calf to my thigh, then to my lap, stopping at the spot where I was doing my best to hide my hand under my desk.
I followed his gaze, looking down at the pool of blue PSS energy, shapeless and pulsing, writhing at the end of my wrist stump. I looked back up, locking eyes with him.
His expression was unreadable. He didn’t look surprised, or afraid, or alarmed. He just looked, his eyes fixed on my wacked-out hand, as if curious to see what it would do next.
I gritted my teeth and tried to focus my PSS back into shape. I was not going to be this guy’s personal freak show. I could fix this. It was just mind over matter.
But it didn’t work. If anything, the more I tried, the worse it got, expanding and losing even more definition. The burning sensation grew so intense I squeezed my eyes shut against it. All around me, I could hear the scrape and shuffle of students getting up and handing in their tests. I bent over my desk, trying to block my hand from view. For a moment, I thought about getting up and running out of class, but someone would see my hand for sure if I did that. Maybe if I took a deep breath, and calmed down, it would go back to normal on its own.
As if in response to that thought, the pain suddenly eased off.
I opened my eyes.
New Guy was leaning over the edge of his desk, and there seemed to be something wrong with his neck. He kept jerking his head toward Passion. What did he want? An introduction to Virgin Mary the hotty? If so, his timing was utter crap.
“Leave me alone,” I mouthed past clenched lips.
He shook his head and gave an exaggerated nod toward Passion again, rolling his eyes in her direction.
This time, I turned and looked.
Something was crawling up Passion’s back.
Not just one something. Five somethings. Five elongated, wisp-thin tendrils, winding their way up Passion’s chair, climbing her back, fluttering at the strands of hair that escaped from her ponytail, making a moving, barely-perceptible pattern of bluish light on the back of her white turtleneck so faint I could almost convince myself it was an optical illusion.
But it wasn’t.
It was my hand, my five fingers stretching impossibly and rising from under the front of my desk, groping the back of Passion Wainwright.
I yanked my wrist in toward my body, but it made no difference. I couldn’t feel my hand, couldn’t control those fingers or call them back.
Passion, intent on her Bible reading, shivered as if she felt a draft and absently brushed an undulating tendril away from her neck.
The thickest finger, the one in the middle, rose up along her spine, stopping at a spot right between her shoulder blades. It held level for a moment, weaving back and forth like some ghostly snake dancing to the tune of an invisible flute. Then it dipped forward, slipping silently through the thin cotton fabric of Passion’s shirt and straight into her back.
She didn’t make a sound as she went limp, her torso gently slanting toward her desk; the tendril of PSS embedded in her back the only thing holding her up.
I didn’t make a sound either, didn’t move, didn’t dare. What if moving made it worse? Oh my God, a voice yammered in my head, you think this could get worse?
I could feel New Guy’s eyes boring into the side of my head. Obviously, he could see my PSS skewering Passion. Why didn’t he jump up and scream and point? How could he just be sitting there so calmly?
I had to get away. From Passion. From everyone. But if I bolted, would my PSS come with me or stretch between my wrist and Passion like some horrible, incriminating rubber band? What would that do to my hand? What would it do to Passion?
I had no idea.
And before I could figure it out, the bell rang.

Check out below for info on book 2, Ghost Hold and Book 3 Ghost Heart

Ghost Hold (The PSS Chronicles #2)
By Ripley Patton
Genre: Paranormal Thriller
Age category: Young Adult

My Review

 photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png

Published September 2013 by Ripley Patton
Series The PSS Chronicles #2

Olivia Black is back.

Only this time she's not the one in need of rescue.

Samantha James, rich, popular, and an award-winning composer at age seventeen, is the next target on the CAMFers' list. In order to convince Samantha to come with them, Olivia and Passion must pose as cousins, blend into the most affluent high school in Indianapolis, and infiltrate a mysterious cult known as The Hold.

Olivia doesn't expect it to be easy, even with the PSS guys backing them up. But what she discovers over the course of the mission will call into question everything she ever believed about herself, her family, and especially about Marcus, the guy she is undoubtedly falling in love with.

Ghost Heart (The PSS Chronicles #3)
By Ripley Patton
Genre: Paranormal Thriller
Age category: Young Adult
Release Date: October 14, 2014

 photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png
In the aftermath of a brutal tragedy, Jason and Passion are on the run. Marcus is lost beyond reach, and The Hold is in shambles. If that weren't enough, Olivia Black has been taken by the CAMFers to be used as Dr. Fineman's personal lab rat in his merciless quest to uncover the mysteries of Psyche Sans Soma once and for all. But only if he can break her.

They are scattered.
They are devastated.
They are ruined.

Their only hope is Olivia's stubborn determination to thwart her captors and unlock the secrets of her ghost hand before Dr. Fineman can. Will she finally find the strength within herself to embrace the full power of her PSS?

And will it even matter if Marcus has already betrayed her?

Book One Ghost Hand, is Free:
You can buy Ghost Hold here:
Ghost Heart Buy Links

Monday, October 21, 2013

Release Day Blitz ~ Suffering of a Witch by Suza Kates

Suffering of a Witch
The Savannah Coven Series 
Book 7
Suza Kates

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Publisher: Icasm Press

Date of Publication: October 20,2013

ISBN: 978-0-9889809-4-5
ASIN: 978-0-9889809-5-2

Cover Artist: Brian McCann

Book Description:


Kylie Worthington is in love with a man who doesn’t return the sentiment. She’s thrown away her pride and all attempts at pretense, yet Quinn St. Germaine still pushes her away. With the arrival of her trial, she will go where Fate dictates, to fight the vicious group, the Amara, and the demon that they serve. She’s also destined to fall in love, so at least she’ll finally find the man she was meant for. Whether she likes it or not.


Quinn has spent his life preparing for his family’s prophecy, but no spell or book could have ever prepared him for Kylie. Her passion for him is strong—and persistent—but he must deny what she makes him feel. Too many years have passed him by and too many sacrifices have been made. Though he’s drawn to her beauty and vitality, deep inside he fears her. Quinn already knows what he wants, and accepting her means giving up on himself.


United in their battle against evil, Quinn and Kylie can’t see what’s right in front of them. And they never suspected what destiny had in store. Only the worst can bring them together, but will they be forever bound by love? Or by loss?

About the Author:

Suza Kates writes the Savannah Coven Series along with other romantic suspense novels. She lives in Savannah with her family and three truly imperialistic cats.

Purchase at Amazon  Amazon Kindle

Balancing as she took cautious steps, Kylie noted the rough waves crashing against the coast. Had a storm come through? Was one on the way?
Quinn was waiting when she got ready to disembark. He held out his hand. “Come on. It’s rough tonight.”
You have no idea. He was especially handsome in the dark. All lean muscles and quiet strength. No moon in his eyes tonight, though. Only angry clouds.
She couldn’t take his hand. Couldn’t stand the heat that always struck deep to her core, making her feel safe and aroused all at once. She was already too amped up.
“Just take my hand, Kylie.” He’d read her hesitation for what it was, and the reminder of their strained relationship spurred his annoyance.
Reaching for him, she clamped her fingers around his, but as soon as their skin met, he jerked away from her. “Ow! Damn it!” His look was scathing. “I told you not to use your magic on me.”
With the wind kicking up and blowing hair in her face, Kylie chose to jump to the dock before she fell between hard wood and crushing boat. She landed cleanly. “I didn’t.”
“You shocked the hell out of me by accident?” His brows were scrunched together, his mouth tight.
“I—” She broke off when a searing yellow streak leapt from her hand toward Quinn. Tucking her palm against her stomach, she shook her head. “I didn’t. I promise.”
Another bolt materialized from the air above, striking between her feet and splintering into tiny white cracks of energy that shimmered into the planks. More roiling clouds barreled in from the east.
Lightning didn’t frighten Kylie. Though deadly to most, the strikes caused no pain. No injury. Not to her.
Electricity was her life force. Her special gift.
But she’d never been the center of an uncontrollable, miniature storm.
Magic sparked from her body now, moving toward the water, the wooden pier, and the beach beyond. It flew into the sky and from the clouds, shooting in both directions. The essence of her power was communing with the thunderheads.
No, the blistering flashes of pure energy didn’t have her quaking where she stood. Her trembling hands and heaving breaths were a response to something far more dangerous to her well-being.
Another crack split through her poorly-constructed foundation when her gaze clashed with Quinn’s. His eyes filled with recognition, understanding. He knew what the phenomenon meant.
She had to say it before he could cut her down with whatever words were forming in his head. “Quinn.” She held out her hands, harnessing the bolts, channeling them into her as they struck again and again. “My trial is starting.”
He nodded tightly. And gulped.
She couldn’t stay here any longer. “I’m going to the house.” Her little tempest was fading, now that she’d opened herself up and accepted her fate. Her calling. Her prophesied challenge.
But considerable damage had been done, and not by the power that pounded from the sky. She couldn’t stay with Quinn, because the expression on his face was a dagger to the heart.
Her trial had arrived, and it was her turn to face the Amara. To succeed in her own unique quest. And as destiny decreed— to fall in love.
Quinn knew the prophecy better than anyone. He knew its pattern. That’s why Kylie had to run. Why she couldn’t bear to see his reaction.
Because there was no doubt that her time had arrived.
And he was terrified.

This blitz is brought to you by Bewitching Book Tours

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Giveaway ~ Cover Reveal for new covers- Elemental Enmity Series~by Christie Rich

I'm excited to bring you the cover re-reveal for author Christie Rich and her Young Adult series, Elemental Enmity!  These books are all released and available for sale, so be sure to pick up a copy today, especially since Five, the first book, is available for FREE!

Goodreads | Amazon | B&N | Smashwords | Excerpt

About the Elemental Enmity Series:
Rayla Tate is an ordinary girl who wants a bit of freedom from her controlling aunt. When she leaves her hometown, the one place that could have protected her from the fae, to pursue her dreams in the art world, she discovers a new life full of adventure, just not what she expected.

When the world of the fae comes chasing after her, Rayla must learn what her role is in the age old battle for dominance between human and fae. The two worlds collide, bringing her step by step closer to her true destiny and the foe of a lifetime.

True evil rests in the shadows and will do anything to steal Rayla’s power. She must fight for her freedom and those she loves, both fae and human. Will Rayla overcome the odds and free a people enslaved by darkness, or will she find her world plunged into an unimaginable abyss of destruction?

Elemental Enmity is a story about free will, power, love, lust, overcoming inner and outer demons, and the ultimate battle of good versus evil that exists inside each of us. True power comes from within, a lesson, like all of us, Rayla must learn.

Join Rayla on a journey of a lifetime and discover what it means to be truly in love. Five, Elemental Enmity, Book One is FREE on all major e-retailers. I hope you’ll pick up a copy and enjoy a read on me!

About the author:

I grew up daydreaming about fairytales, and my love for discovering new worlds has never died. I am not one of those writers who always knew I would write. I thought that was what other people did until one day, a few years ago, I took a challenge from a friend and typed my first words. My journey has been wonderful, and I cannot imagine a day where I would ever give up writing. My love for reading is what fueled my imagination in the first place and still does. When I am not writing or reading, I enjoy family time with my husband and two children. My family and I live in a quiet community in Northern Utah, and I am so thankful for the rich life I have been blessed with.
 Find the author: 


Broken Spell (Singularity #2) By Fabio Bueno ~ Book Tour & Review

Broken Spell (Singularity #2)
By Fabio Bueno
YA Paranormal Romance

Be careful what you wish for.
Skye wanted to find the Singularity. She got what she sought, but to protect the most powerful witch alive, Skye betrayed her coven. Now she regrets entangling her boyfriend Drake in her hidden world.
Drake yearned for Skye, but now he finds out that getting the girl is just the beginning: keeping the girl is the hard part. When tragedy strikes, Drake faces an impossible choice that could destroy his family and his shot at love.
The vicious Night covens seek retribution at all costs. Wicked Jane has returned, scarred from her last confrontation with Drake and Skye, and holding a baffling secret that may change everything.
Dangerous alliances arise. The Veil is about to be broken.
Falling in love has never been harder.


Fabio writes Young Adult/Urban Fantasy/Paranormal novels, including the award-winning WICKED SENSE. He resides in the Pacific Northwest with his wife and kids. When not writing or reading, he geeks out with family and friends, solidifies his reputation as the world's slowest runner, and acts very snobbish about movies. He hangs out here:

Sign up at to get updates about new releases!

Official Website:

Buy Link

I just loved this book. I really loved the first book Wicked Sense and was so happy to be able to read this 2nd one. I really wanted to know what was going on with Skye and Drake. I loved the guessing that took place for us. I still love how it swaps between Drake and Skye point of views, makes it really interesting.

I love this world of the witches the author created, and it takes place not too far from where I live, Seattle, which is cool.

I won’t add spoilers, as I know some may not have read book one yet. But want to say how great this series is. Try is, it’s worth it.

I give 5 out of 5 stars, highly recommended.

I was provided a copy of this book from the author for my honest review.

This review is also posted at Amazon. Also at Goodreads

Broken Spell

(Singularity Series, Book 2)
Fabio Bueno

Chapter 1: Skye
My life is on the right track at last. That terrifies me.
I’m afraid that something beyond my control—or worse, my own choices—might ruin everything.
That’s why I seek the Goddess, the one constant in my life, the only true source of solace and strength.
As I crush dead leaves with my fingers, almost finishing my prayer, my body tingles. I sense the magical energy of another Sister nearby. In the middle of secluded Aurora Park, before dawn, it can only mean a threat.
If I were a regular witch, the source of the magic flow would be undetected. But I have True Sight, a Charm that allows me to sense others of my kind from a long range. Whoever is spying on me is sure she’s unnoticed.
My Charm lets me estimate how far away this Sister is. She gets closer, but stops at what she believes is a safe distance, about eighty yards to my right, atop a gentle slope. She can’t sense me from there, and she believes I can’t sense her either. Turning to check on the Sister would alert her. Since she’s still, I’ll pretend to finish my ritual, while thinking at warp speed.
It’s still dark and, since she can’t sense me, she must be using night vision goggles. Or the two candles in front of me may be giving my position away. I open my eyes a little but see no light to my right: she’s not using a flashlight.
No other source of magic is around, but that doesn’t mean anything. The Sister might have brought friends. They might be surrounding me right now. Think fast, Skye.
While chanting in a low voice and performing the ritual’s gestures with one hand, my other hand discreetly reaches into the front pocket of my jeans. I carry a couple of potions, Sleep and Decay, there, just in case. Just for this case, actually. My other pocket has my cell. I could call 911, but I’d have to explain why I feel threatened by someone I shouldn’t know is there. And what I’m doing in the park before dawn, which is against the law. Lighting fires, no less.
Or I can call Drake and be much briefer.
Disguising my movements, I get the cell from my pocket and speed-dial Drake’s number. I turn on the speakerphone.
A groggy voice answers. “Skye? Are you all right?”
Instead of chanting, my lips move to say, “I’m sensing another witch. Maybe Jane. Aurora Park. North Entrance, about a hundred yards down the path, right side.”
“Can you talk?” His voice is alert at once.
“What are you doing there?”
“I’m finishing my ritual. She’s not moving.” I put out the candles. Dawn is almost upon us, so I still can see—and so can my stalker. “I’ll collect my stuff and leave now.”
“Still no movement?”
“Nope.” My candles, mortar, pestle, dried leaves, and water vial are in my bag now. I search for the flasks with the potions to reassure myself. “I’m leaving now.” I plug an earphone into my cell. I don’t know if the sight of a phone would scare my pursuer away or force her to make a move on me. I put the cell back in my pocket for now.
“Do you want me to pick you up? I’m ready to leave home.” Drake’s voice in my ear calms me down.
“No. Wait.” I walk to the path. For the ritual, I wanted peace and loneliness. Now I yearn for people and activity around me. Joggers, someone walking a dog, even a park ranger would be welcome. “Walking to the nearest exit now.”
“Find a Tully’s or another coffeehouse. They’re open at this hour. Is she following you?”
“Yes, but keeping her distance. I think it’s okay.”
His voice takes a commanding tone. “Skye, it’s not okay. She might have Knowings waiting to ambush you. You cannot sense those. I’m meeting you.”
I pick up my pace. It’s still not day. I can see the trees by the side of the trail, but not much further than that. Someone could be waiting for me in the dark.
“Drake, it’ll take too long.”
“It’s five minutes. Keep talking.”
The engine of Drake’s car rumbles to life.
“I’m looking around. No one’s here,” I tell him.
“How far are you from the exit? Where are you headed?”
“The north parking lot. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” My Charm tells me that the Sister still follows me.
“Go there and be in sight.”
I want to run. But if I do, the Sister will know something is wrong. I’m not supposed to sense someone so far away. I need to stay collected.
A sudden rustle of leaves startles me. I’m caught by surprise and let out a small yelp.
“What?” Drake asks. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Don’t worry. Some little animal scared me.”
“Almost there.”
The parking lot is ahead of me. It’s empty. I make a line for the car entrance.
Drake’s Volvo appears, speeding. He sees me and stops right in front of me.
“Get in,” he says while opening the passenger door.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say while I get in.
“Where is she?” He makes a U-turn to leave the lot.
“She stopped. Let’s go.”
We leave the park and my shadow behind.
“Do you still sense her?” he asks, after we’ve driven two blocks.
“No, she stayed there.” I kiss his cheek. “You rescued me. Like a knight on a white horse. Or in a brown car.”
He looks at me in disbelief. “How can you joke? What were you thinking?”
“I need to do my rituals, Drake. It’s part of who I am.”
“And what about Night Sisters stalking you?”
“They’re part of my life now too.”
He frowns. “Sorry, Skye. But this is not right. Just…be more careful. I worry.”
“Aren’t you sweet?”
Drake came for me right away. His disheveled hair and his sleepy eyes are evidence that he cares. I caress his face. My fingers linger on his cheekbones while I imagine who sculpted them in such artful precision.
“All right,” he says. “But we need to talk about that.”
“Soon. Now take me home. I want to give you a proper thank you for rescuing me.”
A grin lights up his face.

This book tour is brought to you by Innovative Online Book Tours