Organic (The Kepler Chronicles, Book II)
Publisher: Curiosity Quills
Publication Date: June 13, 2017
Breathing is a habit. The oxygen filters into my system, fizzles through my circuits then dissipates to nothingness. This new body is alien; it feels like my own, but I know it’s not. My eyes fall on the hole in front of me―the giant chunk of concrete ripped from the ground where the entrance to the Sanctuary used to be.
The music in my ear stutters to a stop, and the gun in my hand hangs limp.
We’re too late.
Bastion kneels beside me, leaning against his weapon as he studies the torn roots and claw marks that score the earth. His coattails catch in the dry dirt beneath him. He looks up, blue eyes lit with mechanical brightness. “I take it this isn’t the work of the Cull you’re used to?”
I step closer, peering into the hole. It’s probably fifteen feet in diameter. Gashes scar the walls all the way down until the tunnel opens up at the sewers. No sound comes from within―no sign that anyone inside might still be alive.
A frown pulls my lips down. “No.”
“Syl.” Bastion stands, prepared to stop me.
Ignoring him, I step off the uneven ledge. My body falls through the air, landing with a small splash in the sewers below. A fall at that height would have broken my human body’s legs, but the metal frame absorbs the impact and then some. I take off, running full speed in the direction of the Sanctuary. These muscles, they never grow weak, or tired, or burn with exhaustion. Bastion catches up quickly, his footsteps shadowing mine. Darkness isn’t an obstacle for us; we can see through it as if it were daylight.
The metal bars, the same ones I slipped through so long ago to escape this place, are bent open. I step over one that now lies placidly in the mildewed water. The others look like an old man’s teeth―jagged, uneven, broken.
But beyond the destroyed entrance…
I freeze, my body refusing to move any farther. Chicken feathers litter the area, dingy and bloodstained. Beneath them lie the bodies of people I grew up with. People I know. People I care about. Static fills my ears like a thick layer of cotton.
Symbols hover over a corpse, simulated by my brain―cortex―whatever it is. They shimmer and flicker before translating into letters: deceased. The word populates again and again, a dozen times, once for each body, and I choke.
Jadah McCoy currently resides in Nashville, Tennessee where she works as a paralegal. In her spare time she can be found traveling the world, reading, or (surprise, surprise) writing. The last book in the Kepler Chronicles trilogy is due for publication in 2018.
Path of Thieves
Publication date: June 27th 2017
Genres: Contemporary, Young Adult
Football hero by day and thief by night, Charles “Cugs” McConnely leads a double life in the small town of Newbark, Florida. At sundown, the seventeen-year-old turns burglar, forced into the business by the man who should be teaching him the difference between right and wrong: his father.
Cugs is a pro at both games, but only one can secure him a college scholarship. It should be an easy decision, a no-brainer—if Newbark hadn’t proffered the only life he knows.
After run-ins with Nadine Paganelli, his accidental victim and the sole person to have caught him in the act, Cugs starts to realize that hearts can be stolen too.
When his long-lost sister makes contact, lies are uncovered and truths revealed. Suddenly, Cugs finds himself questioning both plans and loyalties. Because sometimes the only way to move forward is by pulling the bottom out of the past.
“Seriously, man. Freddie’s parents are gone the entire weekend, and we’re partying it up. You’ve got to come.” Bear rocks in the passenger seat, trying to get comfortable. We both know the wreck and he are an uneven match.
“Right, your father.” He huffs a frustrated breath. “Never, I swear. Like, ever. I’ve seen you drink freaking twice.”
Florida rain hammers on the roof of the car and hauls ass over my windshield. We’re outside Grocery-Pete’s, waiting for the floodgates to shut so we can get inside.
“Hey, I drink sometimes. With my father.” Dad celebrates good heists with a drink or five. If it’s hard liquor, he’ll loosen tight lips and talk about Mom.
“Come on, Cugs.” Bear tries to arch his back for a better position, but his head hits the ceiling. “Tell me you see how lame that is. ‘I can’t party with y’all, ’cause Imma drink with my daddy.’”
I snort out a laugh. “Whatever, fool.”
My eyes are drawn to Grocery-Pete’s gutter. It’s overflowing. The water takes the fast route over the edge, omitting the drain. I’ve stood under gutters like that, or more like penguin-danced under them in Rigita. Paislee dressed me in thick sweaters and rubber boots and topped it off with full raingear. Then we snuck out the backdoor and ran down the street before we got caught.
“Fascinated, much?” Bear grins.
Between studies, teaching, and advising, Sunniva has spent her entire adult life in a college environment. Most of her novels are new adult romance geared toward smart, passionate readers with a love for eclectic language and engaging their brain as well as their heart while reading.
Born in the Land of the Midnight Sun, the author spent her early twenties making the world her playground. Southern Europe: Spain, Italy, Greece–Argentina: Buenos Aires, in particular. The United States finally kept her interest, and after half a decade in Los Angeles, she now lounges in the beautiful city of Savannah.
Sometimes, Sunniva writes with a paranormal twist (Shattering Halos, Stargazer, and Cat Love). At other times, it’s contemporary (Pandora Wild Child, Leon’s Way, Adrenaline Crush, Walking Heartbreak, and Dodging Trains, coming in late March 2016).
This author is the happiest when her characters let their emotions run off with them, shaping her stories in ways she never foresaw. She loves bad-boys and good-boys run amok, and like in real life, her goal is to keep the reader on her toes until the end of each story.
Publication date: June 6th 2017
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense
They may be refugees but Andie Sorenson never chose to flee when government forces abduct her to the “safety” of a military-operated compound. Caught in an ugly civil war no one understands, she’s now a number, a uniform, her future reduced to three stale meals a day with the strangers who share her fate. She’s nothing, no one—until a random act of compassion and an electric smile turn her prison into a refuge.
It’s his eyes, his heart, his beautiful soul drowning in an ocean of secrets. Lance Corporal Kaleb Novelli is an enigma, but with each plunge through another layer, Andie finds herself captured in a way she never imagined. She knows they have no future. They can’t even have a present, but that doesn’t stop her heart from committing to a man she can never have. The only one she trusts in this battle of lies and manipulation.
But they’ve found their paradise in hell, and she can’t shake the feeling that Kaleb Novelli is not just a player. He’s the game.
His teasing smile plunges through me, settling low, hot and pulsating. It’s a dangerous offer, because soon, I’m on his lap, grasping his hair, claiming his mouth before he can change his mind. Our kiss intensifies, and my brain surrenders to instinct. It wants more, weeks of imagination straining for release. I want to own the smile that melts me, the eyes that haunt me, the compassion that transforms me.
He braces his hands on my back, and I gasp at the flames ripping through my veins. My groan leaks out when he hardens beneath me, and my body instinctively tries to pull him in. God, he feels so good, tastes so good. He’s infinite. There is no enough of this man. There are too many layers, and each one leaves me aching for the next.
I grip the collar of his shirt as he tugs at my hem. Fabric can be damn frustrating, and I’m desperate to fight through it. I want it all: mind, body, and soul, but he pulls back. Eyes clenched, captivating in that moment—overwhelming—I can’t bear the pain of the separation about to come. I’m already suffering the chill of the space between us. I breathe in my own recovery while he hauls himself together, but I don’t object. I care about him too much to make his battle unbearable with a direct assault on his will. I know his struggle against feelings he’s not supposed to have. A relationship he’s not allowed to have. I already broke my promise and won’t cause more agony for the man I’m terrified I’m coming to love.
It takes all my strength to distance myself when he can’t break us apart this time. His expression mirrors my heart, anguish and relief, as I round the corner of his desk to lean on a safer side. Our eyes lock through the gap, both of us aware of what happened, and all the reasons why it shouldn’t have.
I’m a writer, musician, and cat lover. I also have an alternative music obsession. Seriously, it’s a real problem.
I write what needs to come out, whether it’s pain, tears, or laughter. I write people and relationships, about the beauty and horror of what we do to ourselves and each other. I write Love. Vengeance. Compassion. Cruelty. Trust. Betrayal. Forgiveness. Darkness, and the incredible way humans destroy and heal each other.
I like to eradicate barriers, refusing to be confined by the laws of physics or limitations of reality. I will befriend a vast population of possibilities and introduce them in ways that might surprise you.
*The Final Book in The Distraction Series*
Four years of college is coming to an end, and Tristan Daniels and Elle Richards are ready to take the next step toward a future together. Tristan gets drafted into the NFL, and a small newspaper offers Elle her dream job. Their happiness is within reach.
But life has a way of intercepting everything they’ve worked so hard to accomplish.
Love is defined in moments of weakness. Though it’s been months since Elle’s miscarriage, the pain remains an agony that threatens to undo her. True to form, Tristan is the rock, even as he watched the love of his life rushed to surgery. Thrown into chaos, the couple learns to work through their hurt and find solace through the heartache.
Until someone from the past resurfaces and seeks to shatter them for good.
From the beginning, no distraction could keep the best friends apart. Love became an addiction too strong for them to ignore. Now, before they can have a future, they must learn to conquer hardships and embrace what is truly important—
Born and currently residing in Texas, Angela shuffles three active children (not including her husband) all over the place. She works in a busy pediatric doctor’s office as a nurse during the day and writes at night. Addicted to coffee and chocolate, Angela laughs a lot, often at herself and is willing to try anything once. When Angela isn’t rushing kids around, working or writing, she’s reading. Other than life experience, Angela turns to a wide variety of music to help spark her creative juices. She loves to dance and sing though her kids often beg her not to.
(subject to change before release date)
Every day started with the same routine: morning jog, classes, football drills, homework, and repeat. Elle and I were always busy, so last night I set aside time for the two of us. You know, candles, dinner, the works. Only she didn’t show, which led to the current standoff in the living room when I tried to leave.
“Not now, Elle, I’ve got shit to do.”
“Awesome. I’ll be at the paper. Rixon’s meeting me.” She turned. “Not that you give a damn.”
The fuck! My scalp stung from scraping my nails through my hair. Didn’t want to argue with Elle, but I snapped. One mention of the guy’s name—the same asshole who monopolized her time, and I lost my calm.
“Go fucking figure. Run to another guy when shit gets rough.”
Damned if she didn’t fight back. Elle whipped around. “But it’s okay to hang with Kim? Still getting over our ‘time-out’?” Elle air quoted. “Oh, wait? Cooking classes and shit’s apparently fair game?”
Of course, she’d mention the chick I met in culinary class, wouldn’t she? I stepped forward, my shoes kissing her socks, and held her heated gaze. Adrenaline surged through my veins. What I really wanted to do was thread my fingers through her silky hair, pull her to me, and own her. But pride was a mother.
“Kim isn’t trying to fuck me, sweetheart.” Five short seconds was all the time I had to prepare for the sting of her palm against my cheek.
Tears mixed with the anger in her eyes. “How dare you?” she seethed. “I figured you’d give me a little more credit.” Elle swirled around and headed down the hall to the bedroom. Pictures knocked against the wall when the door slammed.
“Goddammit!” My cell in hand, I snatched the keys off the coffee table and left. The house vibrated when the front door shut, but at that point, I didn’t care.
The engine roared, and tires squealed as I raced down the street. Hadn’t driven but five minutes before the phone buzzed. Without checking the caller-ID, I answered the phone.
“Someone needs to get laid.”
“Paul?” I shook my head, hardly believing it was him on the other end. I hadn’t heard from him since the last email he sent from the Middle-East.
Paul razzed me more. “Lemme guess, Elle get smart and leave your dumb ass?”
The light changed from red to green, and I advanced down the street, calmer than when I left Elle.
I fucked up. Never should have gone off on her. Elle wouldn’t leave me for another man. But I didn’t like Rixon and her walking away after a fight, to go with the same prick, was like pouring alcohol on a wound. It burned.
Paul interrupted my internal debate. “Silence won’t help, bro. Give me something.”
Hard plastic from the steering wheel cut into the creases of my fingers. Didn’t matter, I gripped the wheel tighter. “Nothing, man.”
Had to love his verbal brutality. The truth was, I missed the skinny bastard. Paul and I’d been best friends, thick as thieves since we made Mrs. Webber cry in first grade. I remember the day clearly. Fresh from the playground, we’d put a stiff dead frog in the teacher’s chair. Never heard a grown woman wail so loudly. Good times. After high school Paul enlisted, so now communication consisted of emails with the occasional phone call.
“Sorry, man. Caught me at a bad time.”
“You and Elle working through something?”
My laugh sounded harsh and cold. “Something like that,” I admitted.
I loved Elle, too much at times. Waking up with her side of the bed vacant was a reality I’d faced not long ago, and I never wanted to experience that type of emptiness again.
“You talk to your girl?”
“Nope.” I seethed, driving in circles for the fuck of it.
“You afraid she’ll bail?”
My mouth dried. Yeah, bail, hightail it out of my house and my life forever. Sometimes that fear seeped down deep to a place I ignored because I didn’t want to face certain demons—being a pussy was safer.
Maybe I was tired of denying the truth. At that moment, I decided, to be honest and put my insecurities out in the open. Paul had that effect.
“Yeah, man. So much it makes me a little crazy.” I turned onto a residential street and parked. At the sight of homes—with open yards for kids and dogs to play in—my heart knocked against my rib cage. I pictured a future with Elle, starting out in a place similar to these. Those chances were slim if I didn’t get my shit together.
Skepticism messed me up when I had time to think. But during the heated moments when I cherished her body, explored the dips and curves along her silky skin, and relished every sound of pleasure she released, I didn’t think. Didn’t have to.
“When Elle left last year, I didn’t deal with it well.”
“Dude, I remember your sloppy-ass messages when she kicked you to the curb.” His deep laugh vibrated through the line. “Did she give you any indication of moving on since you two worked your shit out?”
I laughed, shaking my head. “No, Dr. Phil.” Which had been my problem. Elle promised not to shut me out, but the what-if lurked, cluttering up my head more days than not. “What do you care?”
“Working through your issues is easier than dealing with mine.” Paul dove back in before I could take a go at his problems. “Talk to Elle, man. You’ve got a good woman, and don’t be a pussy about it either.”
I groaned, raking a hand down my scruffy face. Easier said than done. “Any other advice?”
“Don’t be a dick, dick.” He laughed, and I joined him.
“Thanks, man.” Hair fell into my eyes when I shook my head, and I pushed it away. “When you getting out?”
Paul enlisted in the Marines to run from the only woman he’d ever admitted to loving: Alyssa, Elle’s best friend and pain in the ass I nicknamed Amazon.
He never brought up why he walked away from her, and I never pushed. Paul and Alyssa’s history was their business. On occasion, he’d ask about her until I mentioned Bret, her current fling and another buddy of mine. He hadn’t mentioned her name since.
“Soon as the year’s up.”
I whistled. “Good, good.” I shifted the car into drive. “Coming home?”
“Don’t know. So, how’s ball? You and the old man still getting along okay?”
Nice subject change. Paul understood how strained home used to get with Dad back in the day. Growing up, the old man had issues with Elle and her family, and as a result, didn’t approve of me wanting Elle in my life.
Apparently, miracles happen because dad dropped the hostility with Elle and her mom. Not long after our truce, Elle’s sister, Heather, overdosed. All hell broke, which is when Elle shut me out of her life. Worst pain imaginable.
Had I not lied to Elle, repeatedly, kept Heather’s whereabouts a secret while she sobered up in rehab, Elle probably would have stayed. Upon Heather’s request, I didn’t tell Elle. When Heather got out, life was great, until it wasn’t.
The devastation Elle suffered killed me, but she wouldn’t let me help her or hold her during the pain. I probably would’ve died had Dad not been around to intervene, seeing as I dealt with losing Elle by drowning in hard liquor.
Too lost in the past, I hadn’t caught whatever Paul spouted until he said, “Didn’t hear a word I said, did you?”
I shook my head, grinning. “Guess not, but uh, gotta get back.”
“Yeah, ‘aight. I expect a full report next time.”
“Got it, man.”
“Talk soon, bro.”
I tossed the phone in the passenger seat, ready to head back to Elle, my peace, my everything.
Her car sat in the same place when I hauled ass out. It felt like a fist jammed into my gut. She didn’t leave.
She didn’t leave.
Inside the house, the silence suffocated the mixture of pride and anger, mostly toward myself, and pushed me down the hall. Tension rolled across my shoulders with each step closer to the room, but I forged on. Loving Elle was easy, but trusting each other was a game we’d forgotten how to play.
The hinges creaked when the door opened. Elle snapped her head up. Her red nose and puffy eyes shredded the center part of my chest. Though my heart begged me to inch forward and quiet her cries, my feet were cemented to the floor.
I shoved my hands in my pockets. “Spud.”
Do you know those mom moments, the ones where you discover secret things about your child by accident or sheer dumb luck? Sometimes, those shiny, new revelations scare you or make you nervous. Sometimes, they melt all your insides into a gooey mess. Those times, you want to share with the world how sweet or brave or kind (listen, you people who are tired of reading stories about kids on social media, just suck it up! You’re about to read another one.) your little man or lady is. Well, I here’s one of many, many moments I’ve had, and dammit, I’m sharing.
I Am by Rhys Vroman
I am crazy and energetic
I wonder who will win election year
I hear my dog barking
I see darkness
I want a Pikachu
I am crazy and energetic
I pretend to be a wizard
I feel happy to climb a tree
I touch a portal
I worry when the world will end
I cry when a dog or cat dies
I am crazy and energetic
I understand when my mom tells me to clean up
I say God is real
I dream about creepy things I don’t think of
I try to listen
I hope I don’t grow up fast
I am crazy and energetic
Publication Date: June 28, 2016
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Two centuries ago, Adrian vowed to seek revenge against the Gypsy woman who bound his spirit for eternity. Despite how far under the dirt Miryah Kotorara’s bones lay, he won’t stop tormenting the Kotorara bloodline. The person doesn’t matter, only the name.
Dr. Mia Kotorara has spent the last ten years trying to forget her Gypsy heritage. Ostracized by her family and emotionally damaged, Mia throws herself into her work to fill the void. She forgets everything from her past—except for the man who solely exists in her dreams.
When reality and dreams collide, Adrian and Mia find something they never expected. Love.
Magic will bring them together, but it may not be enough to mend Mia’s broken heart and Adrian’s lust for revenge.
The Kotorara curse is never satisfied.
As the curse threatens everything they have overcome, Adrian and Mia must fight to save what matters most—each other.
Their routine never changed. Smack the alarm clock for fifteen more minutes of grunting, snoring sleep. Grumble when the contraption bleeped its nauseating music again. Shower, wake the children in the next room, eat some sugary swill, and leave for a day of school or work. Day, after day, after day.
If I hadn’t already hated these rotting people, their boring lives would’ve put me over the edge.
Unfortunately, my life, or lack thereof, mirrored theirs. An apparition only had so much to do to fill the time. My routine never changed, either, not for over two hundred years. Yes, the families would turn into other families as generations progressed—I lost count of how many had passed—but they were all from the same insane bitch of an ancestor. I wasn’t too particular. All they required was the right name.
The little things kept my sanity. Push the clock out of reach. Adjust the water until it grew frigid or scalding, depending on my mood. If I were really on point, I dumped that slop they shoveled into their mouths every morning onto the floor for the mangy dog. So what if these specific Gypsies hadn’t cursed me. A curse, I might add, undeserved. Two hundred years built enough anger to spread vengeance without prejudice.
Pathetic, but those little things were all I had. Not much else to occupy my time, and as any good haunt would do, I followed the man, Luca, to the city after he dropped his children off at school–every day.
I wouldn’t have been a decent ghost if I hadn’t at least tried to heave him into oncoming traffic as he scurried to his custodian job. I’d been practicing that trick for years, coming so close a few times. Once I perfected it, the push would probably be at the back of the wanker’s grandson. Hell, great-grandson. Unlike them, I had eternity on my side. But one day, a few of the sodding Gypsies would decorate the windshield of a city bus.
Not today, though. Luca weaved around the crowd while I slinked through it, body after body. The beastly man tended to hurry, always late due to his nightly drinking binges, and I enjoyed tripping him up in his rush, a skill I had mastered. A millisecond of physical contact might not get anyone smacked with a speeding car, but stumbling in a hurry irritated even the most patient person, which Luca wasn’t.
“Christ!” He grabbed a lamppost in time to save his face from the pavement. “Knock your shit off. I ain’t got time for it today.”
To an outsider, the bloated man appeared as if he spoke to himself. But I knew better.
“Well, good thing for you I’ve plenty of time for us both,” I answered him. Even though he couldn’t hear me, we’d had plenty of conversations over the years, as I had with his father, and his father before him. I used to rage, scream until my voice grew hoarse. Not a blooming soul ever gave any indication they knew I existed. To answer now became habit, needing to speak to him as if I had a voice left in the world.
Unfortunately, I’d become as much a part of this heathen family as every other bastard whelped by the likes of a Gypsy bitch. My story became an heirloom, passed from generation to generation. The angry ghost of Miryah Kotorara’s curse. No one had the ability to see me, much less hear a damn word I had to say. Bad luck, a faulty alarm clock, a stumble on nothing, all of it blamed on something none of them really believed in. Me.
In truth, no one believed in me except for maybe Luca, probably the reason I chose him to annoy instead of his brother this generation. What good were all my efforts if the person I haunted thought me a fantasy? I was a curse to a god who didn’t exist for the rest of the family. My attempt to scare, kill, or maim them in some way ended up being part irritation, part fun story to repeat at dinner parties.
Even vapor had pride, and the Kotorara clan stomped on it any chance they had.
Luca straightened his jacket and mumbled curses as the crosswalk light blinked to proceed. Oh, to have the power to push his fat, greasy body into a lorry. I swiped at his back, my hand disappearing through his skin and blubber.
One day, you tosser.
As soon as we hit the curb, Luca stopped. If I were matter, I’d have rammed into his back. Instead, I whooshed through his body. Times like these, I was grateful for the lack of senses, not particularly fond of body odor, sweat, and soft man flesh.
“Well, come on, then. Move your bloody arse.”
Even if he could hear, I doubt he would have listened. Luca directed his attention to a sleek building in front of us, a scowl twisting his lips.
I followed his gaze, frustrated as if I were the one late for work. “What has your attention, fat man?” My eyes landed on a woman who focused on the building, her hair so dark it almost shined blue. Her slim shoulders stiffened before she turned—and saw me.
Curiosity Quills is excited to announce the release of Artificial (The Kepler Chronicles, 1), by debut author, Jadah McCoy. Artificial is a new adult Science Fiction.
She struggles to feel human.
In 2256, the only remnants of civilization on Earth’s first colonized planet, Kepler, are the plant-covered buildings and the nocturnal, genetically spliced bug-people nesting within them: the Cull. During the day, Syl leaves her home in the sewers beneath Elite City to scavenge for food, but at night the Cull come looking for a meal of their own. Syl thought gene splicing died with the Android War a century ago. She thought the bugs could be exterminated, Elite city rebuilt, and the population replenished. She’s wrong.
Whoever engineered the Cull isn’t done playing God. Syl is abducted and tortured in horrific experiments which result in her own DNA being spliced, slowly turning her into one of the bugs. Now she must find a cure and stop the person responsible before every remaining man, woman, and child on Kepler is transformed into the abomination they fear.
He struggles not to.
For Bastion, being an android in the sex industry isn’t so bad. Clubbing beneath the streets of New Elite by day and seducing the rich by night isn’t an altogether undesirable occupation. But every day a new android cadaver appears in the slum gutters, and each caved in metal skull and heap of mangled wires whittles away at him.
Glitches—androids with empathy—are being murdered, their models discontinued and strung up as a warning. Show emotion, you die. Good thing Bastion can keep a secret, or he would be the next body lining the street.
He can almost live with hiding his emotions. That is, until a girl shows up in the slums—a human girl, who claims she was an experiment. And in New Elite, being a human is even worse than being a Glitch. Now Bastion must help the girl escape before he becomes victim to his too-human emotions, one way or another.
About the Author
Jadah currently lives in Nashville, TN and works as a legal coordinator. When not babysitting attorneys, she can be found juicing her brain for creative ideas or fantasizing about her next trip out of the country (or about Tom Hiddleston as Loki – it’s always a toss up when she fantasizes).
She grew up in rural Arkansas, yet can still write good and sometimes even wears shoes! She did date her first cousin for a while but they decided against marriage for the sake of the gene pool.
Her true loves are elephants, cursing, and sangria – in that order. If you find an elephant that curses like a sailor whilst drinking sangria, you’re dangerously close to becoming her next romantic victim – er, partner.
She cut her writing teeth on badly written, hormone-driven fanfiction (be glad that’s out of her system), and her one true dream is to have wildly erotic fanfiction with dubious grammar written about her own novels. Please make her dreams come true.