Friday, July 25, 2014

Burdened (A Burdened Novel, Book 1) by Peiri Ann Featuring Excerpt & GIVEAWAY #BewitchingBookTours @peiriann

Tracey Warren has everything an eighteen year old girl should. She lives a life of expectancies; go to school, please her parents, party with friends, and revel in life as a young adult.

That is until she experiences an unexpected life changing accident caused by Nathan Newcomb; an illegally attractive yet perplexed guy who has her fumbling over her words and cracking her head on the concrete. In being enthralled by his overwhelming existence, Tracey neglects his promise of death (which never falls short of Nathan) and in ignoring his guarantee, she chooses to give into love over sanity and risks her life for the opportunity of being with him.

Nathan, knowing the risks gives into this want to have Tracey presuming it may be better to jeopardize their possible ending, than to allow her to endure the pain of his devoid. Nonetheless, with him being a burdened Sephlem, not only are they burdened by their adversaries who will risk everything but the exposure of their existence to see Nathan fall. But Nathan and Tracey come to find that their most sinister enemies lie under their same roof and regrettably share the same bloodline.

Book Details:

A Burdened Novel, Book 1
Peiri Ann

Genre: Paranormal Romance

ISBN: 9780991381104

Number of pages: ebook (381)
Number of pages: paperback (423)
Word Count: 142K


I wake up on a bed, in what seems to be the nurse’s office. It smells of rubbing alcohol and those blue, hockey puck-looking tablets that are thrown in the toilet and turn the water blue. It doesn’t stink, but it is not helping my headache any, either. My ass hurts and my head is pounding.

Pushing myself to sit up, the room begins to spin. It adds a nauseous feeling to my problems. Moving with more precaution, I slowly reach for my head. Stopping when I see a figure moving in my peripheral vision.

I want to look, but out of fear of what I might see, I will not, because if it’s him—the hot guy that hit me in the parking lot—and I barf, this situation could get a whole lot more embarrassing.

Without turning my head, I peek out of the corners of my eyes.

There they are—those masculine, broad shoulders even a concussion cannot make you forget. Clearly!

Wait—is he sleeping? His shoulders are moving steadily and calm. He can’t be just staring at me and not saying anything. I question turning my head, not only because I don’t want him to see me look at him, but also because I fear my worsening headache.

Unable to not look, I turn my head, taking less than a second. Maybe even a millisecond.

“What are you doing?” Busted! “Practicing for the exorcist?” he retorts sarcastically.

I’m caught. What type of an excuse can I use for this? Trying not to turn my head fast to look at you, in case you were looking at me. NO!

“Um, I was, um, trying to…stretch…my…neck slowly…to avoid, making my head hurt worse,” I say stupidly, taking one word at a time, just to implicate I was saying each word as it came into my head.

He gets up from the chair and walks in my direction.

That walk. He seems to sway across the floor, his shoulders moving with each step. Left foot, right shoulder, right foot, left shoulder. I quickly peek at him, hoping he doesn’t see. I notice that he doesn’t slouch and his jaw is tight.

I look away as he gets closer. I have no idea what he is going to do or say. I do know he’s close and I want him to touch me again. As long as I don’t pass out…again.

His hands are in his pockets as he approaches the bedside. “Would you like to go get some ibuprofen for your head?” he asks, bending over, looking at my forehead. Well, I assume he’s looking at my forehead. “The nurse is still here, and she has been waiting for you to come to.” Hands still in his pockets. “You feeling okay?”

I must be looking foolishly, because he said that as if it was the second time he’d asked me. “Umm, yeah, I think so.”

“Okay, let’s go see what the nurse has for you. Maybe she can do something about your headache.” With his hands still in his pockets, he offers me his arm to grab.

Book Trailers:
Barnes & Noble ~ BN

About the Author:

A love for reading transpired into an admiration for writing at a young age for Peiri Ann. Starting off in writing poetry and short stories she indulged in the possibilities of creating new worlds and lives to live within them opening a window of unanticipated possibilities. In high school a pin and notebook never left her grasps and in college the pin was replaced by a keyboard and the notebook replaced by a computer screen. She holds a Bachelor’s degree in Psychology and certified in business management.

When Peiri Ann is not writing, reading, doing homework, or working in the downtown of Chicago she enjoys spending time with her little girl, watching action flicks, and spooning peanut butter from the jar as a midnight snack.

Find the Author Online:

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Twitter - @peiriann

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Prize pack One -paperback give away of "Burdened" by Peiri Ann, "Lux Beginnings and Consequences" By Jennifer Armentrout and $20 iTunes gift card.

Prize pack Two -Kindle, "Burdened" By Peiri Ann ebook "If I Stay" By Gayle Forman ebook and a $15 Amazon gift card.

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Book Blast & Giveaway: Uriel's Fall by Loralie Hall (Presented by Goddess Fish Promotions)

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Loralie will be awarding $10 Amazon Gift Card to a randomly drawn winner via the rafflecopter at the end of this post. Please click on the banner to see the other stops on this tour.

Please note: This book is on sale for $0.99 until August 8, 2014.

Ronnie has the job any entry-level angel or demon would sell their soul for—she's a retrieval analyst for the largest search engine in the world. Ubiquity is a joint initiative between heaven and hell. Because what better way to track all of humanity's secrets, both good and bad, than direct access to their web browsing habits.

She might appreciate the position a little more if a) she could remember anything about her life before she started working at Ubiquity, b) the damn voice in her head would just shut up already, and c) her boss wasn't a complete d!ckhead.

As she searches for solutions to the first two issues, and hopes the third will work itself out in performance reviews, she uncovers more petty backstabbing than an episode of Real Housewives, and a conspiracy as old as Lucifer's descent from heaven. On top of all that, if she forgets the cover sheet on her TPS report one more time, she's absolutely going on final written warning.

Now Ronnie’s struggling to keep her sanity and job, while stopping the voice in her head from stealing her life. She almost misses the boredom of data analysis at Ubiquity. Almost.

Book Excerpt:

Every inch of me wanted to close the distance between us, to rest my hands on his still heaving chest, to see what it would be like to kiss him. Was I even allowed to do that? Michael was one of the holiest of holy. Was he above that kind of thing?

A flicker of memory flashed through my thoughts. Gabe hadn’t been. This felt different though, more subtle, but at the same time more alive.

Something clattered behind me. Michael had dropped his practice weapon. His palms glided along my arms until he reached my fingers. He loosed each one, and the wooden blades fell to the ground.

He rested one hand on the back of my neck, eyes searching mine for a moment. He dipped his head in and pressed his lips to mine. My pulse raced in response, and I leaned into the gesture. This was different than last night. It was safe, and gentle, and all consuming. I could lose myself in this sensation.

I kissed him back, nipping at his bottom lip. My hands slid along his chest, memorizing every inch of definition through his thin shirt. He groaned and tangled his fingers in my hair.

His lips parted, and I darted my tongue into his mouth. My skin burned with need, and my chest clenched with something achingly familiar I couldn’t quite grasp. I shifted my weight against him, sighing at the friction. His free hand rested at the small of my back, fingertips grazing my spine. I trailed down his chest and tugged the bottom of his shirt.

About the Author:

Loralie Hall is a full time corporate geek and a fuller time writer. Her spouse is her muse and their cats are very much their children. When they’re not spending way too much time gaming, they’re making the world more good by vanquishing one fictional evil at a time.

Find the Author Online:





Purchase Links: Uriel's Fall (Ubiquity Book 1)

Promotional Post: "WELCOME TO LONDON, WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE" by D. Lawrence-Young

D. Lawrence-Young

(Enigma Press New Release!)

Purchase Links:

About the Book: 

Will Shakespeare is a young lad, happy to work at school, but happier really when he is writing long love poems and short plays. Unfortunately, his father, having fallen on hard times has to send Will out to earn his own living. 

Eventually managing to convince his family that his pen and education will provide a better living than by making gloves in his father's shop, Will sets off for London and the new and exciting world of the theatre. 

Elizabethan London is like no other place in the world, with its sights, smells, opportunities and constant danger. While Will is forging his career and making new friends in the theatre, including the alluring Dark Lady of the Sonnets, he must also be very careful of those he mixes with. The Tudor capital is a treacherous place at the best of times, and there are ever-listening ears everywhere. William Shakespeare has to be on guard at all times, especially when he is forced to become a government spy. 

Based on a wide range of sources, D. Lawrence-Young has written a fascinating novel that helps us answer the question: What was Shakespeare doing during his so-called “Lost Years?’

About the Author:

D. Lawrence-Young has been teaching and lecturing on drama, history and English for many years. He is happiest when researching Shakespeare, English and military history. He has written Communication in English, a best-selling English language textbook as well as a dozen other historical novels. These include three based on the life of Shakespeare. 

He contributes regularly to Forum, a magazine for English language teachers and has also written several articles for Skirmish, a military history journal. He is a member of the local history club and is the Chairman of the Jerusalem Shakespeare Society. He is also a published (USA) and exhibited (UK and Jerusalem) photographer. He plays the clarinet (badly) and is married and has three children.

Find the Author Online:

Thursday, July 24, 2014

Review: For Her Spy Only (A Masquerading Mistresses Novella) by Robyn DeHart (Entangled Scandalous)

For Her Spy Only
by Robyn DeHart

England, 1814

When Winifred is rescued from her snow-stranded carriage by the notorious and reclusive Alistair, Marquess of Coventry, she is instantly drawn to him. Jilted by her betrothed and socially ruined by untrue rumors, Winifred is tired of paying for crimes she didn't commit and decides to play the seductress London society claims she is. Thinking a night of passion shouldn't leave any lasting effects, she instead finds her heart marked forever.

Six years later, Alistair is working for the Regent as a spy. A search for Napoleon's English supporters leads him to the beguiling Winifred, recently widowed with a young son. He hasn't forgotten how the unconventional beauty warmed his bed, and the heat between them rekindles immediately. The spymaster is determined to uncover all of plucky Winifred's secrets. Especially the one regarding her son...
(Info courtesy of

Book Details:

Title: For Her Spy Only (Masquerading Mistresses)
Author: Robyn DeHart
Genre: Historical Romance
Length: 103 pages
Release Date: July 21, 2014
ISBN: 978-1-62266-744-4
Entangled Scandalous
(Info courtesy of

Currently on sale for $0.99 (verify pricing before purchasing):

Sapphyria's Review:

Our story begins on a dark and stormy night ( does) in 1808. Winifred Wilmingham and her maid are stranded in a broken carriage during a snowstorm. After waiting for the footman to return with help, to no avail, another carriage comes along and the occupant, Alistair Devlin, offers the women assistance. Alistair, the Marquess of Coventry, doesn't have the best reputation and is infamously known as a recluse, but accepting his help will prevent Winifred and her maid from freezing to death.  Inexplicably drawn to him, Winifred decides to fulfill the description of "harlot" that's she been unfairly and unjustly identified as, and seduces the socially awkward Marquess.  

Jumping ahead 6 years to 1814:

Alistair is a spy for the Crown.  One of his assignments is to crack the code of numbers hidden withing maps made by Sir Mirren.  In an effort to see the maps, Alistair seeks Mirren out as his home.  What a surprise to have the door opened by Winifred.  The sparks are still there although each tries desperately to push them aside.  Alistair isn't the marrying kind after the death of his wife and Winifred has more than just herself to think about.  When Alistair comes calling at her home, the questions begin, the story unfolds, danger abounds, and secrets are revealed.  Besides the romance, there is an air of espionage, and threats against the Crown.  

For Her Spy Only is a quick read at just over 100 pages.  The romantic element is sweet and for whatever reason, the hero and heroine quickly connect on more than just a sexual level.  Love and chemistry doesn't always need a reason - sometimes it just is. No matter how hard Alistair and Winifred tried to keep emotions and feelings out of their affair, they crept in anyway, ending the story quite satisfactorily.  Alistair and Winifred each had their own secrets but they were able to eventually discuss the problems, incorrect assumptions, and feelings.

Please note that I have not read the first book in the series (yet), No Ordinary Mistress, and it appears that maybe I should have.  Some of the same characters from Book 1 apparently appear in For Her Spy Only (from the reviews I've read anyway).  I'll be reading Book 1 shortly.

Review Copy Courtesy of:  Entangled Publishing, at no cost, in exchange for an honest review.

Sapphyria's Rating:


Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Excerpt and Giveaway for Fantasy Novel ~ Shawndirea (Chronicles of Aetheaon, Book I) by Leonard D. Hilley II

Often the smallest unexpected surprises garner the most demanding dilemmas, which proves to be the ordeal that entomologist Ben Whytten faces. While netting butterflies to add to his vast collection, he mistakenly sweeps what he thinks is the most spectacular butterfly he has ever seen into his net. Upon examining his catch, Ben is horrified to discover he has captured a faery and shredded her delicate wings into useless ribbons.

Devastated, Ben vows to take Shawndirea back to her realm, Aetheaon; but he discovers that doing so places their lives into immediate danger. To get to Aetheaon, they must pass through a portal rift deep inside the haunted cavern, Devils Den. 

Once they cross the rift, Ben enters a world where mysteries, magic, betrayal, and power struggles await. He must adapt quickly or die because Aetheaon is filled with enchanted creatures and numerous races where chaos often dominates order. And since Shawndirea’s destined for the throne of Elvendale, opposing dark forces plot to prevent her from ever reaching her kingdom again. The faery's magic isn't enough to fully protect them, so he must trust other adventurers to aid them during their journey.

About the Book:


Chronicles of Aetheaon, Book I

Leonard D. Hilley II

Genre: Fantasy (Epic, Adventure, Sword/Sorcerer)

Publisher: DeimosWeb Publishing
Date of Publication: June 27, 2014

ISBN: 9781310304965

Number of pages: 536 printed pages
Word Count: 148,000


Chapter One

The early autumn sun blazed over the freshly cut hayfield in Cider Knoll, Kentucky. Ben Whytten rested his butterfly net against the rusted barbed wire fence and then wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. Sweat soaked his shirt and blue jeans. Although fall had officially begun, the outside temperature didn’t indicate it. Sporting near ninety degrees, summer refused to let go of the climate and turned what should have been a pleasant Saturday afternoon into an intimidating taunt, daring anyone with partial sanity to remain outdoors in the sweltering heat.

After he unscrewed the canteen cap, he tilted it back and took a long drink of cold water. Beads of water dripped down his short brown beard. He sighed and twisted the cap tightly. His piercing brown eyes studied the sky. Not a cloud in sight. No breeze to help combat the hellish sticky heat.

Ben combed his sweat-matted brown hair from his eyes with his fingers. He picked up the butterfly net and looked across the straw-colored field at the small grove of pastel leafed maples that lined a winding stream. The shade was inviting, and he guessed a good ten degrees cooler than the open field. He took a deep breath and trudged across brittle grass stems that crunched beneath his hiking boots.

Collecting butterflies during autumn was better than spring or summer because the diversity of species increased. The fall forms of butterflies were generally brighter, larger, and fed in greater clusters on the ironweed, milkweed, and clover. Brilliantly colored swallowtails puddled along the creek beds. Plump moth larvae were also easier to find as they searched for places to spin cocoons or burrow beneath the soil to pupate before the colder temperatures set in.

“If colder weather ever settles in,” Ben thought, “Hell will have truly frozen over.”

Long narrow grasshoppers jumped and took to flight as Ben crossed the field. Their wings buzzed as the alarmed insects glided and drifted downward, landed, and propelled themselves into the air again.

Reaching the shade beneath the maple branches, Ben leaned against a thick tree trunk and closed his eyes. The shallow stream trickled softly. Cicadas hummed. In the distance a woodpecker rapped the bark of a massive dead pine. Weather had stripped away sections of the rough pine bark, revealing the smooth yellow wood underneath. The soothing sounds of nature relaxed him, and he was thankful to be outside, alone.

Dr. Isaac Deiko had planned to collect insects with Ben this particular Saturday, but at the last minute, he called and said that he couldn’t go. Deiko had to help set up tables for a gun show in a neighboring town.

The news didn’t disappoint Ben. He’d rather collect butterflies and other insects alone. The outdoors was a place where he gathered his thoughts and meditated about life. The forests, bluffs, and meadows were the best places where he felt at peace. Leaving the fast-paced, bustling technological-craving addicts for a calmer, slow-paced life without all their distractions was worth more than millions of dollars to Ben. He’d give up all the instant gadgets for the tranquility that his grandfather and great-grandfather experienced while working on their farms.

Ben kept a serious outlook on life while Dr. Deiko spent more time playing practical jokes on their colleagues and students, which often irritated and infuriated Ben. He knew if Deiko came on this field trip, the collecting possibilities would be little or none simply because Deiko was clumsy-footed and boisterous.

Ben had never extended an invitation for Deiko to join him in the first place. In fact, Deiko had invited himself when he found out about Ben’s collecting plans for the weekend. Although Deiko was a biologist like Ben, Deiko was more concerned with uncovering a discovery to make him famous, whereas Ben loved science and didn’t care if anyone other than his students knew he existed. Of course when final exams rolled around, most of his students would rather he didn’t exist. Other than giving his students field trips from Hell, his tests were considered harsher than rigorous ten mile hikes through steep mountainous terrain.

Ben looked back across the field and chuckled. He had traipsed hundreds of acres through forests, caves, and fields when he was still in middle school. He had done so voluntarily, without a word of complaint, and yet, today’s college students voiced disdain over the least thing. The challenge wasn’t getting them to learn; it was getting them to do anything that didn’t require the pacifying need for their technology.

His inner frustration brought more heat to his face. He was seconds from rehashing how he wished computers and cellphones weren’t so controlling until the soft bubbling creek caught his attention. The gentle soft sound of water allowed his mind to leave the tensions of the classroom and return to the natural calm surrounding him. He expelled a long sigh and refocused himself.

Tall narrow blades of grass covered the sandy banks of the shallow stream. Small drab satyr butterflies fluttered lazily from grass blade to grass blade. Ben shook his head. After two hours of walking the fields and woods, he had hoped to capture a few new specimens to add to his collection. But with each species he encountered, he already had at least a half-dozen of those pinned inside glass-top boxes at home. In many ways, he believed he’d have done himself a greater service by staying home.

But regardless of what he deemed bad luck, his life was about to change.


He removed his backpack and set it down. Slowly he lowered himself and sat back against the tree trunk to rest. He set down the canteen and placed the net handle across his lap and watched the gentle stream flow. A few minnows darted back and forth beneath the water as water striders skimmed like polished skaters across the water’s surface.

Ben was drenched in sweat and drained from the heat. A cool breeze stirred along the stream, which seemed an invitation to relax a while longer. His eyes ached to close for a nap. He fought the urge to doze even though the place was so comforting and peaceful. But, if nothing interesting presented itself soon, he was going home. He dreaded walking across the dry pasture to his SUV.

Ben took his hunting knife from the sheath attached to his belt and then picked up a dried oak branch. He whittled and shaved away bark.

Perhaps it was the extreme heat that kept the most brilliant butterflies in hiding, but he still didn’t see any within the grove or along the sandy banks. Later in the evening he might have better luck, but he refused to stick around that long. He slid the knife back into its sheath and rubbed his tired eyes.

Sunlight filtered through the leafy canopy. Several birds flew low across the stream and through the trees. Seconds later two yellow butterflies glided to the edge of the far bank and landed. A larger butterfly caught his attention. At first glance he thought it was a giant swallowtail, but instead, it turned out to be an oversized tiger swallowtail.

Ben’s fingers tightened around the net handle. He pushed himself to his feet. He stepped lightly and headed toward the stream to get a better look at the butterflies. Near the bank, a blur of metallic bluish-green streaked past him.

“Damn!” he said, watching the zipping wings catch the breeze and glide.

With incredible speed, it darted up, down, left to right, and along the stream’s edge. Perhaps the sweltering heat or near dehydration was playing tricks on him, but he was almost certain glittery dust trailed behind it.

Ben hurried after the butterfly, a prize unlike any other in his collection.

Few butterflies in this part of Kentucky had such metallic colorings. One he thought of immediately was the White M Hairstreak, but this one was too large and flew much swifter. Another butterfly with similar colors was the long-tailed skipper, but the sheen sparkling off the butterfly following the stream was too bright. Its flight was also more erratic. The skipper stayed near gardens, and he doubted any strayed this far into the woods since the larvae food plant was the leaf of various beanstalks.

Ben realized he had just discovered something new. Excitement shot through him.

He hurried along the stream and jumped over a fallen tree. His sudden pursuit had not gone unnoticed. The iridescent creature darted downward and swept through the tiny branches of a shrub. But Ben moved faster.

As the beautifully winged specimen shot through the other side of the bush, Ben arced the net sharply and captured his prize. The end of the net pulled and stretched while his captive struggled to fight free.

Quickly, Ben clamped his fingers near the end of the net, but by the time he did, the struggling ceased.

He opened the net and looked inside. His eyes widened.

“What the hell?” he asked.

At the bottom of the net lay a gorgeous creature, but not what he had expected to capture. Her wings were tattered, frayed. Unconscious, he hoped, but he feared she might be dying or already dead. Broken scales and wing fragments covered her nearly nude body.

His excitement of the chase suddenly turned to regret and dread.

A faery?

Ben dropped to his knees and gently set down the net.

“God,” he whispered. “I hope I didn’t kill you.”

He carefully placed his left hand beside her unmoving form. He nudged her into the palm of his hand with the tip of his finger. She breathed, but her eyes remained closed. Her radiant face was more beautiful than any woman he had ever met.

A door slammed and echoed near the pasture gate where he had parked his SUV.

Ben looked over his shoulder but couldn’t see who had driven up.

“Ben!” Deiko shouted. “Where are you?”

“Dammit,” Ben grumbled under his breath, looking back over his shoulder. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He hurried to the tree where his pack lay. He curled his left hand gently around the faery’s limp body while reaching into the pack.


Ben took a wide-mouthed dark plastic bottle, set it between his knees and unscrewed the hole-punched lid. Glancing back over his shoulder he saw Deiko’s lanky figure jogging toward the grove. Deiko smiled and waved when their eyes met. His jog turned into a sprint as he headed toward Ben.

Ben placed the faery into the jar, turned the lid, and wrapped the jar inside a white cloth before setting it back into his pack. No sooner had he placed it there and zipped the pack shut, Deiko’s thundering footsteps stopped beside him.

“Catch something nice?” Deiko asked.

“No,” Ben replied, looking up but not making eye contact with Deiko. “Not much activity out here today. I blame the heat.”

Deiko smiled broadly. “You caught something. Something special.”

Ben shook his head, picked up his pack, and stood. “Look around, Isaac. What do you see?”

Deiko glanced around but then his eyes focused on Ben’s backpack again. “I agree. Not much flying around. But you got something.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Your eyes. It’s the same with poker players who have a great hand and haven’t conditioned themselves to suppress their excitement or like kids that find money on the ground after someone drops it. Hell, I noticed people at the gun show who bought guns from people far cheaper than the owners knew the guns were worth.”

Ben’s eyes narrowed, and he chose to change the subject. He said, “How was the gun show? I thought you’d be there all day.”

Deiko shrugged. “That had been the plan. Not much going on there, either. Got a couple good deals though. Like this Ruger.”

He pulled a handgun from the back of his belt.

“Nice,” Ben replied. Carefully he slipped his pack over his shoulder and headed toward the hay field.

“Well?” Deiko said. He tucked the gun behind his belt and stepped in front of Ben. “Aren’t you going to show me?”

Sweat dripped from his Deiko’s black hair and beaded on his brow. Ben studied the determination set in his colleague’s dark eyes and his firm muscular jaw. Within seconds, Deiko’s boyish face had hardened into that of a fierce murderous villain. Physically, he had no weight to put behind his facial threat. He was tall and quite bony with slender arms. And although Deiko was probably fifteen years younger, Ben had no doubt if he was forced to fight that Deiko would be the one sitting on the ground looking up and rubbing his jaw. But, then, there was the gun issue. Isaac was armed and all Ben had was his knife. Even those odds didn’t stand in Isaac’s favor.

“Show you what?” Ben asked.

“Your prize. It must be something nice since you still refuse to show me.”

“How many times have I told you that I haven’t found anything?”

“You and I should play poker sometime,” Deiko said. “I’d make a fortune.”

“Being as I don’t play cards, you’re probably correct with that assumption.”

“Oh, come on, Ben,” Deiko said. Hostility loomed in his voice and darkness narrowed his eyes. “Why are you afraid to show me what you found?”

Ben studied him for a moment. Never had he seen Isaac behave like a demented spoiled brat. He had his moments, but Dr. Deiko generally didn’t keep a quiet and intimidating tone. But out here, away from others, Ben suddenly saw the violence that hid deep within the botanist, and it was creeping to the surface. Knowing that Deiko lusted for fame, for a discovery beyond what man had seen or could fathom, Ben knew he could never show the faery to Deiko. The second he did, something horrible would happen. To Ben and the lovely faery.

Deiko had not only shown the gun as his grand prize from the gun show, he had established his subtle threat by revealing he had brought it into the field. Hunting season was still a few weeks away, and no one needed a gun to collect butterflies. He had shown the gun for a reason—either as a bullying tactic or simply to exhibit dominance.

“I think the heat is getting to you, Isaac,” Ben said, shaking his head and stepping around his colleague.

“Put down the pack,” Isaac said.


Ben froze when Isaac inserted the magazine into the gun and snapped the gun’s chamber back and forth.

“Put down your pack. I want to see what you’re hiding inside.”

Ben turned. He looked in Isaac’s eyes, then to the gun.

Isaac shook his head. “Uh-uh. Just set it down.”

Ben frowned and slowly lowered his pack to the ground. He held his hands before him in surrender. “You’re making a big mistake.”

“So you did find something.”

“And if I did? You going to kill me for it?” Ben asked.

Isaac chuckled. “Depends on how good a find it is.”


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About the Author:

Leonard D. Hilley II currently lives in the mountains of Kentucky with his wife, Christal. He is a biologist that has also earned his MFA in creative writing. Having a passion for books at an early age, he knew he wanted to author his own creative works. He wrote his first novel at the age of eleven and has never lost his love for books.


Twitter: @Deimosweb



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