Book Blitz: Excerpt and Giveaway! Broken Aro, The Broken Ones #1 by Jen Wylie

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Open your eyes to darkness. What do you see? Does the darkness frighten you? Now imagine the darkness being the cargo hold of a slave ship. Your city has fallen. Your family is most likely dead. You don't know anyone around you, and some of them aren't even human. Giving up would be so easy to do, but not for Arowyn Mason. Not after being raised in a military family with seven brothers. Every great story should begin with a plan. Aro's was to escape and to survive.

Escape comes, but at a price. As they reach the shore, Aro and the other survivors learn that freedom doesn't mean safety. The slavers want their property back and will do anything to get it. The party uses every ounce of their brute strength, a hearty helping of cunning, and even ancient magics to keep themselves alive. Sickness, danger, and even love surprise them at every turn. Dealing with danger becomes their way of life, but none of them ever considered that nothing can be quite as dangerous as a prophecy. Running turns into another race altogether as her world falls to pieces again and again.

Her eyes opened to darkness.

She wasn't surprised. When bad things happened and you finally opened your eyes it was always dark wasn't it? Because otherwise when you woke up you wouldn't be scared, not right away, not until you remembered. Yet in darkness nothing else could be seen but the memories of what had happened, it didn't matter if you opened your eyes or kept them squeezed closed.

What happened…

She closed her eyes again, not against the memories, but the sudden tears and choking sobs. Still, she tried to not remember, but her head hurt. All of her hurt, but her head hurt the worst. She'd been hit by something, very hard. She had no trouble remembering the pain. She remembered falling to the ground, her brothers screaming her name over the insane loudness of the fighting and everything fading to nothing as darkness claimed her.

She sucked in a deep breath. The fighting. Yes, the city had been attacked. The walls had been breached. There had been fighting in the streets. She had been fighting. Her brothers had been trying to get her out. They had been so close. Had they?

She shifted and froze, terror creeping up her throat and choking her at the same time until nothing but a strangled gurgle came out.

They had not.

She knew because she felt the cold metal shackles around each wrist, felt the weight of the chain between them. The same fetters bound her ankles. Dirty straw prickled her cheek and the other smells of her surroundings overcame her. They overwhelmed her and made her gag. The rank scents of piss, shit and vomit almost covered the stale reek of sweat and the tang of salt.

Salt.

She'd thought her head had just been spinning, but no, everything moved, lurching and swaying. She was at sea.

At sea in chains meant only one thing. The rumors had been true. The Gelanians had allied with the Franuan Slavers. Beneath the combined attack, Kingsport had fallen and the Frans had taken their cut, citizens to sell as slaves. She was a slave.

Well that sucks.

Jen Wylie was born and raised in Ontario, Canada. In a cosmic twist of fate she dislikes the snow and cold.

Before settling down to raise a family, she attained a BA from Queens University and worked in retail and sales.

Thanks to her mother she acquired a love of books at an early age and began writing in public school. She constantly has stories floating around in her head, and finds it amazing most people don’t. Jennifer writes various forms of fantasy, both novels and short stories. 

Jennifer resides in rural Ontario, Canada with her two boys, Australian shepherd and a disagreeable amount of wildlife.

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Book Blitz and Giveaway! Isla's Oath, Isla's Inheritance #2 by Cassandra Page

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Australia is a long way from the Old World and its fae denizens ... but not far enough.

Isla is determined to understand her heritage and control her new abilities, but concealing them from those close to her proves difficult. Convincing the local fae she isn’t a threat despite her mixed blood is harder still. When the dazzling Everest arrives with a retinue of servants, Isla gets her first glimpse of why her mother’s people are hated ... and feared.

But Isla isn’t the only one with something to hide. Someone she trusts is concealing a dangerous secret. She must seek the truth and stop Everest from killing to get what he wants: Isla’s oath.

As we reached the floor of the valley, my ears strained to hear the sounds of a village going about its evening business. The air was still. I could clearly hear the sighing of the distant trees between the rhythmic slapping of our footsteps against the cobbles. Part of it was the lack of electronic noise from the buildings we passed—no televisions, gaming consoles or radios chattered here. But it was more than that. And it couldn’t be that everyone was asleep either. Jack had already made the point that the duinesidhe were primarily nocturnal.

“Is it normally this quiet?” I whispered.

Jack shook his head.

“They’re hiding from me.” It wasn’t a question; I already knew the answer.

“I warned them you might be coming. They are cautious.”

“They’re afraid.”

He nodded, eyes sad.

The thought made my stomach churn. “Let’s get this done so I can leave and they can get back to normal then.”

Jack led me through the deserted streets to a small garden cottage surrounded by bushes and climbing vines that sagged, heavy with flowers. Most of the blooms were shut for the night, except for a spray of white evening primrose near the gate. The sweet, heady scent of the blooms eased my anxiety, intermingling with the aromas of fragrant herbs—I could smell lavender, basil, lemon balm and mint—from elsewhere in the garden.

If I were a creature who collected smells, this was the sort of garden I would grow. Although given I had a black thumb I might need Aunt Elizabeth to come and tend it for me.

Jack knocked on the wooden cottage door. There was no answer. I stood patiently by his side for a minute or so before raising my eyebrows at him. He shrugged apologetically and knocked again.

Maybe the puca would be more likely to answer the door if I weren’t standing so close? I wandered back towards the garden beds. I wasn’t an avid gardener like my aunt. I knew enough to identify some of the flowers, at least those that were common Canberra varieties. Most of these plants were strange to me. One, with glossy green leaves and plump buds, caught my eye. From the wicked, curved thorns that pierced the stems like the hooked claws of a cat, it was probably a variety of rose, although not one I’d ever seen. The petals were a vivid royal purple.

I heard murmuring voices behind me and glanced back to see Jack was bent over double, head poking through a dog flap in the bottom half of the cottage door. I couldn’t hear what he was saying but he sounded irritated. A muffled voice replied, “I’ve changed my mind. Go away!”

Pretending not to notice, I turned my attention back to the flowers with a sigh, running a luminescent finger—I didn’t think I would ever get used to that—along the outside of one of the fat buds. The petal was soft as fine silk.

The flower unfurled under my fingertip.

I gasped. The sweet, distinctive aroma of roses in bloom filled the air as, one after another, radiating out from the flower I’d touched, the rest of the buds on the bush opened to the night sky.

Cassandra Page is a mother, author, editor and geek. She lives in Canberra, Australia’s bush capital, with her son and two Cairn Terriers. She has a serious coffee addiction and a tattoo of a cat — despite being allergic to cats. She has loved to read since primary school, when the library was her refuge, and loves many genres — although urban fantasy is her favourite. When she’s not reading or writing, she engages in geekery, from Doctor Who to AD&D. Because who said you need to grow up?

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