One malicious prince. Two rival kingdoms. And an innocent girl caught in the crossfire. Raised in a war-ravaged continent, temptation comes to Calla Caldwell in the form of a charming and mysterious stranger. Giving in to his intimate seduction, her world is forever changed by a single bite. Calla quickly learns the handsome stranger is vampire prince, Trystan Vladu. His bite was an attempt to claim and save her from a plot of vengeance generations in the making. However, the claws of that ancient vendetta are scraping ever closer. Thrust into a new nightmare by the Prince of the corrupt kingdom of Morbeth, Calla is captured, tortured, and starved in the dank confines of his dungeon. While in captivity, she takes part in a séance with a witch of light where she contacts a departed relative—a Princess of Incendia—who bequeaths a gift to Calla that will tip the scales of good and evil . . . if she can learn to harness it. With a dark tapestry of secrets, lies, and murder unraveling around her, Calla must learn to embrace the power roiling through her veins, or be snuffed out by the strangling fist of a malevolent darkness.

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  I woke to see a pitch-black sky. No, it wasn’t the sky. It was a cave where the air was stagnant and smelled of brine and rotted seaweed. I was lying on a bed of sand. And there was sand on the entire floor around me. Was this purgatory? “Ah, the Sea Star awakens,” a rich voice spoke off to my side. I rolled my head to the side and watched a young man, perhaps early twenties, step out of the shadows. He was over six feet, but his eyes . . . they were lambent, a mesmerizing icy blue. He was handsome, with a sharp nose and jaw, with full lips that were curled slightly upward. Light silvery-blue hair fell to his shoulders. He was shirtless, muscular abs, pecks, and biceps glistened on sun-kissed skin in the light of a nearby fire. “Who are you?” I questioned, my voice a bit hoarse. He stepped closer, muscular arms crossing over his tanned chest. “I’m Kai. And you are lucky I happened to be passing by. I sensed your energy and by chance, saw your body splash into the sea.” I scanned the area and realized we weren’t in a cave. The walls surrounding us were transparent. They were made of water. It was a dome, maybe twenty feet in height and width. And if I looked hard enough, I could see things—sea creatures—swimming around us.

 

  I was born in San Francisco, raised in Maui, Hawaii, and now reside with my husband in Las Vegas. I am a dreamer and caffeine addict who loves to laugh and loves to read to escape reality. One of my greatest satisfactions is creating fantasy worlds filled with adventure and romance. It is the love and incredible support of my family and fans that keeps me going. One day I hope to uncover my magic wardrobe and ride away on a unicorn. Until then . . . I'll keep writing!

 

 

Title: Of the Blood

Series: Heir of Blood and Fire, #1

Genre: YA Dark Fantasy

Author: Cameo Renae

Release Day: May 15, 2020

Cover Designer: Covers by Juan

 

 

   

   

I was born in San Francisco, raised in Maui, Hawaii, and now reside with my husband in Las Vegas.
I am a dreamer and caffeine addict who loves to laugh and loves to read to escape reality.
One of my greatest satisfactions is creating fantasy worlds filled with adventure and romance.
It is the love and incredible support of my family and fans that keeps me going.
One day I hope to uncover my magic wardrobe and ride away on a unicorn. Until then . . . I'll keep writing!

   

 

Author: Carlyle Labuschagne

Genre: Young Adult Dystopian Romance

Publisher: Hallowed Ink Press

Blurb: 

In a dark and desolated After Earth, love still does exist, but the cost of bearing such a flaw is death.

World War III has left Earth in utter turmoil. People’s beliefs are said to be the cause of the worldwide destruction. After The Clearing new laws are set about - to show certitude in anything besides the law is weak and chargeable as mutiny. To be illogical and have faith in religion is illegal, to be limitless is dangerous. And Illness is seen as a defect – all flaws that are inexcusable.

But to love is the greatest betrayal of all mankind. It is a fault the world has long forgotten and punishable by death, a fatal risk Aecker and Opel are fully prepared to take - because in love there is freedom. But how far can they push back before it claims their lives and of those they care about? FB Release Party: https://www.facebook.com/events/1495518857373150/

Carlyle Labuschagne is a South African award winning author working her way into the hearts of international readers with her first two books in the Broken Trilogy. Her first young adult dystopian novel "The Broken Destiny" reached top 3 in its YA debut Category. The Sequel Evanescent won YATR literary award for best Sci-Fi book 2013. 

Her become a published author prgramme for students launched Feb 2014. 

She is not only an author, but works as a marketing manager by day. She holds a diploma in creative writing through the writing school at College SA. 

Carlyle loves to swim, fights for the trees, and is a food lover who is driven by her passion for life. Carlyle also writes for IU e-magazine India, an inspirational non-profit magazine that aims at inspiring the world through words. The drive behind her author career is healing through words. Carlyle is also the founder of the first annual book drive – Help Build A Library in Africa Project. And hopes to launch her very own Indie book festival in Johannesburg March 2015.

“My goal as an author is to touch people’s lives, and help others love their differences and one another.”

Two Breaths Too Late
Rochelle Maya Callen

Young Adult

9.10.14 (World Suicide Prevention Day)
www.RochelleMayaCallen.com 

Ellie Walker is a high school senior who commits suicide and then is forced to face the brokenness she leaves behind. 


EXCERPT:
1.

Death,

You aren't a tunnel of light, a choir of angels, or even an ascension of the soul. You are a twitching leg, a spasm of breath, a moment of fear when I realize that the noose I tied didn't snap my neck and I am left dangling with the chair tipped over too far from my toes. You are blackness blotting out my vision, my lungs heaving in breaths that aren't there, because the rope cuts into my throat choking the life out of me, slowly. 

Too slowly.

My fingers claw at the rope that I found in the closet behind liquor bottles and expired cans of vegetables. Life seeps out of me; the oxygen choked out, the carbon dioxide choked in. Where was the peace and quiet? Where was the release? The absence of fear? That is why I hid the rope under my mattress, why I waited till mom and dad left for work, why I climbed on a chair and tied the noose, why I wrapped it around my neck and pulled it tight, said a prayer, squeezed my eyes shut, and stepped off the chair. 
Leaving the screams, the bruises, the scars, the secrets and loneliness behind.

But you aren't taking me away.

I am suffocating in silent screams and the smell of ash. The floor is too far and I am too high. My chest caves in and just as blackness eats my last sliver of being conscious, I realize I regret. I realize I am too late. Death, you aren't beautiful or free or romantic like in all of the novels I have read. You are a girl who had no hope left, dangling from a ceiling beam who, two breaths too late, realized she wanted to live.

I thought you would save me, Death. 
But you are a liar.
Just like everyone else.

The Day He Died...
A Message from the Author of Two Breaths Too Late.

 He was about 6 when I met him. He was my new friend's younger brother and all long limbs, brown hair, and big brown eyes. He had one of the biggest smiles I had ever seen.

 The kid was brilliant. He read constantly. Loved learning. By 11, he was taking college classes. Languages. Science. His mind was a powerful beast that conquered many subjects. We all knew he would do amazing things with the brilliance he had within him.

 He would shine. He would soar.

 We were all ready and waiting to see it happen. We all grew up. I went to college. Gradated. Got married. He became a handsome teenager and was still wining over hearts (everyone loved him and that big smile). He joined a church band. Got his associates degree before 15. He had friends and a family who loved him.

 Then one night, he ran out of his house—€派is parents running after him—€杯o the bridge that went over highway 95...and jumped.

 As a mother, I can't imagine that moment—€杯hat split second when you are looking at your child and his feet are solidly on the ground and he is so close to being within reach and that defining, heart breaking moment when he isn't any longer.

 He was 19.

 I heard the news by phone while standing in my kitchen. The shock rendered me breathless. What had happened to this brilliant young man? We found out later that he had been recently diagnosed with schizophrenia and after watching his brother have a fierce battle with the illness, he couldn't find the hope to live on.

 His family had everyone wear brightly colored shirts and his band played at the funeral. The music was joyous and beautiful and people hugged and danced as pictures of his beautiful smile were projected onto a huge screen.

 It had been the week of Easter. It was a beautiful celebration of his life—€蚤 life that ended far too soon.

We have all suffered loss in some way. We know the ache. The feeling of too much space because something or someone is supposed to be there to fill it.

 The loss of someone to suicide happens everyday. Every minute. It is estimated that worldwide nearly a million people take their own lives. One million fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, sons, daughters who are lost because they had no hope left.

 The day I found out about this brilliant young man's suicide, I was brought back to a moment years earlier, when I was 11 years old and standing on a chair with a noose dangling in front of me. I had stepped down from that chair that day—€播espite bruises, pain, loneliness, and secrets—€蚤nd lived. Lived to see heart breaks, awards won, graduations, friendships, jobs, and a million other happy and terrible moments. Ugly or perfect, those moments were mine and there I stood in my kitchen with my round and pregnant belly and listened as my mother told me the news about a boy who had all those moments taken away.

 Almost a year ago, I posted a flash fiction piece I had written about suicide and a reader contacted me and said that I should write a novel based on it. I was intimidated. Scared. How could I take on something like that? It hit such a personal chord with me that I thought I might unravel in its creation.

 I am not going to lie. This novel always brings tears to my eyes. Not because I am a literary genius or a masterful story-teller, but because with every word I write and second that passes, I know there is someone out there who is deciding to give up on on their beautiful and terrible moments and my heart breaks and I wish I could type faster, or yell louder, or reach out and squeeze every single one of those one million souls and whisper, “€廩old on...just a little longer.”€・br />
 This novel isn't about happy endings. It isn't about happily-ever-afters. It is about the beautiful and terrible moments that make up a life and the possibilities that live in even the darkest of places that sometimes we are just too blind to see. I will use a portion of the proceeds from this novel to donate to To Write Love On Her Arms as well as launch a suicide prevention project entitled, HoldOn2Hope.

The project will launch in September. If all goes well, there will be a LIVE event for teens in the DC metro area as well as the project's online media awareness component will last a full year. My heart is in this project and I know that a project like this needs a ton of love and support to thrive.

 That's where you come in. I hope together we can change this staggering statistic. I send you love and light today. Please know that you are precious in this big 'ol world and it would not be as bright or beautiful without you in it.
 XOXO,
Rochelle

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