Countdown to christmas
Happy holidays, everyone! To celebrate the
season, we are thrilled to bring you the Leigh
Evans Countdown to Christmas blitz and
giveaway event! The author of the fantabulous
Mystwalker series, Leigh Evans is one of our
absolute favorite urban fantasy writers and we
really can’t recommend her books highly
enough. If you love paranormal and urban
fantasy novels, you simply MUST check out
the Mystwalker series!
The Trouble With Fate (Mystwalker #1)
Genre: New Adult, Urban Fantasy, Paranormal
Publisher: St. Martin’s Press goodreads/amazon/B&N
Synopsis: Meet Hedi Peacock. She’s half Fae.
Half Were. And all trouble…
I Have Two Words For Werewolves:
My name is Hedi Peacock and I have a secret.
I’m not human, and I have the pointy Fae
ears and Were inner-bitch to prove it. As fairy
tales go, my childhood was damn near
perfect, all fur and magic until a werewolf
killed my father and the Fae executed my
mother. I’ve never forgiven either side.
Especially Robson Trowbridge. He was a part-
time werewolf, a full-time bastard, and the
first and only boy I ever loved. That is, until
he became the prime suspect in my father’s
Today I’m a half-breed barista working at a
fancy coffee house, living with my loopy Aunt
Lou and a temperamental amulet named
Merry, and wondering where in the world I’m
going in life. A pretty normal existence,
considering. But when a pack of Weres
decides to kidnap my aunt and force me to
steal another amulet, the only one who can
help me is the last person I ever thought I’d
turn to: Robson Trowbridge. And he’s as
annoyingly beautiful as I remember. That’s the
trouble with fate: Sometimes it barks. Other
times it bites. And the rest of the time it just
breaks your heart. Again…
– The Trouble With Fate
“Shit,” he said. “Your eyes.”
Instinctively, I slapped my hands back over them.
“They’re glowing green,” he said in awe. “I can see it right through your fingers.”
Yes, of course my eyes were glowing green. I’d waited all my life for my first flare – that pivotal moment in life when everything shifts, and you accept the full weight of your destiny. For some Fae of noble birth, it happened when their magical talen kicked into high gear, for others their flare sparked at the sight of the child, the grandchild…their lover. It was that instant in time when you realized your own true thing – the thing you were born to do. I had flared. I’d finally done it, and the bright light beaming from my eyes wasn’t Mum’s cerulean blue, nor even Alpha-dog blue. I lowered my hands. Oh Fae Stars, the inside of the whole car was lit neon green.
“Only Alphas have the flare,” he said slowly.
“Well, as it happens, so do Faes, born of royal blood.” I turned to him. “I am Fae. See me flare.”
As soon as my eyes locked on his, an answering white-blue flame deep within his eyes sparked to life. Wicked light, seductive and abrasive. Yield, it demanded. I stretched my eyes open and held them wide, resisting the gut-deep urge to let my gaze drop before his.
I’d wasted too many hours coming up with words to describe just what shade of blue his eyes were. Mediterranean blue is how I remembered them. Deep set. Surrounded by a thick ring of stubby black eyelashes. They weren’t Mediterranean blue; they were Trowbridge blue. Right now, they were lit with the Alpha-blue flame of his blood kin, and were beyond my ability to describe.
A stupid exercise, description. It’s a memory game for a yearning, dreaming heart. It’s something you play, waiting for the light to change, trying to find the right word, as if that would somehow return you to that moment, help you live that feeling again. Maybe one day, I’d go back to finding the right word, but right then, caught in the heart trap of pure feeling, I was only aware of what the blue flame in his eyes meant to me. It was power, it was desire, it was a fight and a promise.
It was everything.
The Thing About Weres (Mystwalker #2)
Genres: New Adult, Urban Fantasy,
Publisher: St. Martin’s Press
Synopsis: Love is like a wild animal. It can’t
The Heart is a Lonely Hunter
In the never-ending saga that is my love-hate
relationship with Robson Trowbridge, I, half-
Were Hedi Peacock, have had a change of
heart. Ever since I shoved Trowbridge through
the Gates of Merenwyn, I’ve been the leader
of the pack—hard to believe, right? The thing
is: I’m half-Fae. So even though my Were side
is ready to heed the call of the wild, the other
part of me is desperate to take flight. And
much as it pains me to admit it, life without
Trowbridge is really starting to were me
I Am Were, Hear Me Roar.
To make matters worse, the wolves of
Creemore want my blood—and the North
American Council of Weres wants me dead. So
I’m just counting the days until Trowbridge
returns from the other realm…and comes to
my brave rescue…and becomes my alpha
mate. Wishful thinking? Of course it is. But
given all the mess I’ve been through already,
what’s the harm in doing a little bit of daisy-
plucking? Besides, Trowbridge owes me
bigtime. A girl can dream.
– The Thing About Weres
Therein lies one of the inherent problems about being around Trowbridge.
He’s so damn beautiful that it’s really hard to think in a straight line around him. For instance, when I saw those little beads of water on his hard shoulder, I didn’t think “baby needs a towel.” Nope. Instead, I imagined myself licking the moisture off his shoulder.
Sad, the direction my brain slithers when I’m around my mate.
To be honest, I’m not sure if I’m comfortable with the full body flush of sexual desire that nearly levels me when I see him standing there, utterly desirable and absolutely unreachable. I don’t trust it. There was no reason to it, no natural progression from first stirrings of attraction to my current level of “wave my panties over my head” lust.
I grew up in the same small Ontario town as he. His house was just on the other side of the pond. As a kid, I’d been the uninspired witness to many Trowbridge sightings. But one day, a few months before puberty, I looked at him, and it was like someone had pressed my sexual identity’s switch to on. Bam! Bye-bye, Barbie. Hello, Trowbridge.
Like my body was preset for him, and him alone.
Behind my lover, Merenwyn’s forest climbed a series of hills in rolling swells of golden yellow and deep green, providing a scenic foil to Trowbridge’s own particular dark beauty. I studied the tree line until my hear settled down, and then said with faux calm, “It’s cold tonight.”
Gorgeous grimaced and pulled his fingers free from his damp locks. “Why does it always have to be water? I hate water.”
“You know, you look so real in my dreams. Sometimes I think–”
“That you’re not dreaming. Well, check the list, Hedi Peacock. Am I wearing any clothing?” Trowbridge ran his hand down his gleaming chest, sliding it along the landscape of all that lovely taut flesh, to disappear under the water. “That’s a definite no. Do you know what happens to skin when it stays in water for a long time? Things get shriveled. Important things, like–” He frowned, his hand busy under the water. “God, they feel like stewed prunes.”
My mate pulled out his dripping paw, inspected it with a fierce scowl, and gave his hand a savage flick. Droplets of water sprayed – a bullwhip of diamond beads. “Why here? We could have this conversation anywhere else. You know–”
“I know. Weres can’t swim. You hate water.”
He wasn’t listening. Instead he was concentrating on dragging his wet mitt across the single dry patch on his pecs – once, twice, and – ah, there we go – three times – before he was satisfied that his hand was dry enough to plant on his narrow hip.
Now his chest gleamed in the most distracting way.
“You making any progress on getting these nightmares under control?” he asked.
“This isn’t my nightmare.”
“Tinker Bell, if this was one of my dreams, you’d be naked and we’d be in bed. This is one of your nightmares. I’m standing in the middle of some damn millpond that the Fae consider healing and sacred, without a gun, a knife, or an Uzi. You’re under the cherry tree, looking like…”
He let his gaze casually roam. First to my mouth, where it lingered on my upper full lip, then slowly down the line of my white throat, from there to the hollow that he’d kissed, and finally to my breast, where it rested for a heated moment or two.
“Don’t stare at me like that,” I whispered, flattening a hand over my stomach.
“Like what?” His hooded eyes glittered.
As if your gaze were leaving a trail of heat on my skin. As if I were the sexiest thing you’d ever seen. As if you –
“You are. You are my fuckin’ catnip,” he said simply. “And I’m getting beyond tired of the whole ‘look but don’t touch’ torture. Come to me, right now. Walk down that hill and meet me in this goddamn pond.”
The Problem With Promises (Mystwalker
Genres: New Adult, Urban Fantasy,
Publisher: St. Martin’s Press
Release Date: February 25, 2014
Pre-order on amazon/ B&N
View on goodreads
NEVER MAKE A PROMISE…
Robson Trowbridge, the Alpha of Creemore
and my gorgeous mate, tries to protect me,
Hedi Peacock, half-Fae, half-were, from all
the trouble I get into. The thing is, my past is
pretty messy and bad guys keep knocking
down my door. Witches, thug bikers, the
North American Council of Weres, dark magic
Fae, and even an evil wizard are all after me.
The Old Mage is the only one I really care
about: He has my dear twin brother captive
on the other side of the Gates of Merenwyn—
not cool. So my alpha love is helping me to
keep my promise to free my brother…
YOU CAN’T AFFORD TO KEEP.
Unfortunately, everyone who helps me ends
up in a heap of trouble too—including my
Trowbridge. Now, I admit I’ve had my
moments as a shivering coward, hoping he
will come to my brave rescue. The whole
Prince Charming thing is hard to shake. But
these bad guys after me mean business and
those damsel in distress days are over. You
know that “last straw” metaphor? That was two
straws ago. It’s now or never. Again…
“A brilliant new take on fairies,
werewolves, and magic…I am officially
—Chloe Neill, New York Times bestselling
About the Author
Leigh was born in Montreal, Quebec but now
lives in Southern Ontario with her husband.
She’s raised two kids, mothered three dogs,
and herded a few cats. Other than that, her
life was fairly routine until she hit the age of
50. Some women get tattoos. Leigh decided to
write a book. A little tardy, but then again,
Mum always said she was a late bloomer.
Book 1 in her Mystwalker series, The Trouble
With Fate, was published by St. Martin’s Press
in December 2012, with book 2, The Thing
About Weres, following in July 2013. The third
book, The Problem With Promises, will hit
shelves in February 2014. The fourth and final
Mystwalker book will release in late 2014. The
series is also published in the UK by Tor-UK.
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