Be SPELLBOUND by 20 full-length urban fantasy and paranormal romance reads.
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Readers of all ages will be swept away by this fascinating mix of existing titles and brand new content, full of pages brimming with faeries, witches, vampires, shifters, psychics, greek gods, angels, demons, and even ghosts!
With over a million words of fiction, this is your one stop shop for urban fantasy, epic fantasy, sword and sorcery, shifter romance, vampire romance, elemental magic, time travel, and MORE from today’s New York Times, USA Today, and internationally bestselling authors!
Although some of these reads may be gritty and dark, this is a collection of clean reads that anyone will enjoy!
Secure your Limited Edition copy with one click today, and for a special treat, enjoy this sample excerpt from one of the authors in SPELLBOUND.
BLEEDING HEARTS: Book One of the Demimonde, by Ash Krafton
Sophie Galen is an advice columnist whose work leaves her neck-deep in other people’s problems. Thanks to her compassion, her gut instinct, and her magnetic charm, Sophie really knows how to attract little black clouds.
Marek Thurzo is no little black cloud; he’s a maelstrom. Marek is Demivampire, a race with the potential to evolve into vampire. A warrior who’s taken his share of spiritual damage, he hovers dangerously close to destruction.
He seeks salvation. She’s driven to save him. But what if he can’t be saved?
Sympathy for his plight becomes true empathy as Sophie’s hidden nature is revealed. Marek suspects she may be one of the Sophia, oracle and redemption of the damned Demivampire. She alone can turn back the evolutionary clock.
All she needs is the courage to face her fears. Can she save him from Falling?
Enjoy this excerpt…
“Well, Sophie, you’ve been busy.” My editor placed the typed sheets on her desk and pushed her reading glasses to the top of her head, smiling in a way that suggested she wasn’t simply commenting on my productivity.
Barbara Evans was definitely fiftyish but her exact age remained a secret closely guarded by her mother and the clerk at the Department of Motor Vehicles. No gray, no dye. No kidding. The wrinkles around her eyes were laugh lines; gravity had yet to wage war on the softer parts of her body.
I made a noncommittal noise as I fooled around at the coffee station in her office at The Mag. I swore I kept this job just so I could drink her coffee. An invitation to Barbara’s office for coffee was like receiving royal honors.
“Unfortunately, I felt really inspired this week.” I took a shallow sip of the coffee so I didn’t scald my tongue. Carrying the mug over to her desk, I flopped into the big red leather chair across from her.
“I’ll say. These letters make, what…” She shuffled through the perpetual piles on her desk until she found what she wanted. Barbara was old school, preferring paper to electronic files. “Seven. You made the regular issue as well as the summer bonus. I’m impressed.”
Nodding, I reached for my cup. The summer bonus was a pain, if anyone asked me. However, I got paid to do it. Money was nice, so I kept my opinion to myself. I had yet to master a passable poker face and Barbara was a champion player.
“But you don’t look like someone who’s free and clear until next issue,” she said. “You look more like you expect someone to jump out at you.”
“I just… eh, it’s nothing.” I tried to downplay it but her assessment was dead-on, hopefully no pun intended. Her slight frown insisted she wanted a better answer and I grimaced, knowing she wouldn’t like the answer. “I’ve been thinking about Patrick.”
“Him again?” She clucked her tongue and walked around the desk. Perching on the edge, she softened her firm tone with a sympathetic look. “He needed professional help and you told him so. You did what you could.”
“I don’t feel like I did.”
“Enough. You’re not a psychiatrist. Let it go.”
Barbara was right. I was an advice columnist. People sought me out because they wanted my help. Didn’t help matters that, before joining The Mag, I’d spent more than a decade in nursing. I was driven to help, to care, to make things all better.
Didn’t I have an obligation to help them? “But—”
“But nothing,” she said. “I know you like to dwell. At least dwell on something cheerful. Think about those you help.”
I scowled into my cup. She was right—I did get too hung up on people and their problems. It was just the way I was wired.
“What brought him up, anyway?”
“I got a letter from him yesterday,” I said.
She gave me a careful look as if she were determining whether or not our friendship would survive a phone call to Crisis Intervention. “You mean from someone who sounds like him.”
“No, him. His handwriting, his signature.”
“I thought you said—”
“I did.” I scooted on the slippery cushion so I could look up at her. “You saw the obituary.”
About the Author:
Ash Krafton writes because if she doesn’t, her kids will…and NOBODY wants that. A speculative fiction girl through and through, Ash writes paranormal romance and urban fantasy novels as well as poetry and short fiction. Her work has won a bunch of awards and was even nominated for a Pushcart Prize. When she’s not writing, she’s practicing Tai Chi, listening to loud rock and metal, or crushing on supervillains. Most recently, she’s re-released her urban fantasy trilogy THE BOOKS OF THE DEMIMONDE because she never really left the world of Sophie and her Demivamps. Find out more when you visit www.ashkrafton.com