Interview of S.D. Lettie Author of The Arrangement-(Bancroft University Chronicles , Book 1.)

 

A forced engagement binds them, but the secrets simmering between them threaten to implode their lives far sooner than any wedding bells—part one of a slow-burn duet…

 

Title: THE ARRANGEMENT

Author: S.D. Lettie

Publisher: Independent

Pages: 298

Genre: New Adult, Romantic Suspense

Format: Paperback, Kindle, FREE with Kindle Unlimited

You know that guy you fell for at sixteen—the one who vanished without explanation, leaving behind enough damage to last years? Now imagine being forced into an engagement with him because your parents decided you’re more useful as leverage than as a daughter. 

And the part he forgot to mention? He’s heir to a Bratva empire with blood on its hands. 

That’s Emilia’s life. Her future is not her own, and her fiancé, Nikolai Volkov, is a man whose silence is more dangerous than his words. Their past is a wound. Their engagement is a threat. And what grows between them is something neither of them should let happen. 

The Arrangement is a dark, slow-burn story of buried truths, political corruption, and a connection that pulls two damaged people toward a collision neither may survive unscathed.

Read sample.

The Arrangement is available at Amazon.

 

Book Excerpt

My phone buzzes in my shorts pocket. I ignore it, thinking it’s a text, but then it buzzes again. I look down and see my father’s name lighting up the screen. Groaning, I answer. 

“Emilia.” His voice is calm, clipped. Not cold, just clean, like everything else he controls. He says my name like punctuation. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Your mother asked me to check on the brunch.” 

She didn’t want to ask herself. She never does. She strategically delegates through him, like always. “It’s done,” I say. “Final headcount is confirmed. Catering’s squared. My remarks are short and already vetted.” There’s a pause, the sound of him moving paper in the background, or maybe pouring a drink. I can’t tell. He’s always multitasking, even when he speaks like everything is a priority. 

“She wants it to go smoothly.” 

It will. He knows that. He wouldn’t have called if he didn’t already trust it was handled. 

“There’s something else,” my father says right as I think we’re done, his voice flat and clipped in the way he reserves for things that aren’t up for discussion. “I’ve arranged a meeting with Nikolai and his father next week at the Four Seasons. I’d like you to be there. We have some important things to discuss.” 

– Excerpted from The Arrangement by S.D. Lettie, Independent, 2025. Reprinted with permission.

INTERVIEW: 

 

Can you share a story about what brought you to this particular career path (becoming an author)?

I’ve been an avid reader for as long as I can remember. In elementary school, the longest book I tackled was The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien, and after that I devoured the Harry Potter series and never really looked back. Every summer, my grandma would take me to Barnes & Noble and let me pick out a few books for the week I spent with her. What she didn’t realize was that I was a fast reader and could easily finish one or two books in a single day.

My love for writing started in middle school, thanks to my seventh-grade Language Arts teacher who had us write short stories in our composition notebooks as a warm-up every day. From there, I was constantly writing - on Word documents, in spiral notebooks, anywhere I could. Most of those early stories were Harry Potter fan fiction, so they never saw the light of day.

Then life happened. Kids, a career in B2B marketing, responsibilities. I actually stopped reading altogether until 2020, when the world was forced to slow down. Over the next few years, I fell back into reading hard - sometimes 300 to 400 books a year on my Kindle. I started with lighter romance authors like Tessa Bailey and Meghan Quinn, before eventually drifting into darker romance with writers like Rina Kent, J. Bree, and Eva Ashwood.

When I lost my job at the beginning of 2025, I knew it was my chance to finally write the story that had been living rent-free in my head for years. I had so many unfinished drafts and half-formed ideas, and this time, I committed to finishing one. And the rest is history.

Your latest book, The Arrangement, centers around a forced engagement and is a dark, slow-burn story of buried truths, political corruption, and a connection that pulls two damaged people toward a collision neither may survive unscathed. How did you come up with this very unique idea?

I really credit the inspiration for The Arrangement to two things:

First, mafia romance. As much as I love a golden-retriever MMC, there’s something about a morally gray man that just hits differently. The kind who’s dangerous, loyal to a fault, and would burn the world down for the woman he chooses. I knew from the start that my male character needed to live in that gray space.

Second, my love for espionage movies and TV shows. I’m fascinated by secrets, especially the ones buried inside politics and government. There’s something thrilling about uncovering what’s hidden beneath polished speeches and public images, and honestly, it feels closer to reality than people like to admit.

Blending those two worlds - organized crime and political power - felt natural. Once I put them together, the story pretty much took on a life of its own.

Can you tell us more about the main character in your book?

The book really centers around two characters: Emilia Langford and Nikolai Volkov.

Emilia is polished, overly analytical, sarcastic, and charming - the perfect political daughter on the surface. She’s spent her entire life playing a role, and in that way, she’s incredibly relatable. Not everything is as perfect as it looks, and Emilia represents that disconnect between appearance and reality better than anyone.

Nikolai, on the other hand, is our main male character and very much the morally gray counterpart. He’s intense, dangerous, and undeniably attractive - the kind of man who looks like he could kill you and probably has. While readers don’t get much of his POV in book one, the moments they do get are powerful. He’s calculated, loyal, and shaped by the world of organized crime in a way that makes him impossible to ignore.

Who are the other main characters?

Thalia is hands down my favorite character in this world. She’s the backbone of the story and wears way too many hats - Emilia’s ride-or-die, her unofficial therapist, the little voice on her shoulder, and the one person who will always say what everyone else is thinking. She’s blunt, unfiltered, and completely unapologetic about it.

Honestly, she became so fun to write that it only made sense to give her her own book. Some characters refuse to stay in the background, and Thalia is very much one of them.

What’s the very first line of your book? 

It opens with: “The ballroom is unbearably warm. It always is.”

What’s the main reason someone should really read your book?

There are a few reasons someone should pick up The Arrangement. 

First, it’s part of an ongoing world. While this duet focuses on Emilia and Nikolai, their story isn’t the end - other characters step forward, and the world keeps expanding. Second, it’s a true slow burn. If you like stories that take their time building tension before everything finally collides, this book is for you. And finally, it’s grounded. It’s still fiction, but it feels real. Readers can get lost in the story while still recognizing the emotions, dynamics, and pressure the characters are under.

You are a person of enormous influence. If you could start a movement that would bring the most amount of good to the most amount of people, what would that be?

I’d want to start a movement focused on making books easier to access for everyone. Reading is one of the few ways people can escape, learn, and decompress without putting themselves at risk, but it’s still treated like a luxury. Libraries are important, but they don’t always have what people want or need.

I’d love to see more community-based book sharing, things like local swaps, little free libraries, school programs, and other low-barrier ways to get books into people’s hands. The goal would be to make reading feel accessible and normal, not expensive or exclusive.

About the Author

Before she ever had “author” next to her name, S.D. Lettie was—and still is—an avid reader first; the kind who would finish a book in a day and beg her parents to take her back to the bookstore. Reading started as a hobby and, as she got older, became her source of entertainment, escape, and comfort. Over the years, she found herself wanting to write the kind of worlds readers could get excited about—a world that could grow into a fandom of its own. 

Today, Lettie writes slow-burn romances—stories about characters who are imperfectly perfect, the hard moments that shape them, and the plot twists that leave readers reeling. Outside her writing life, she’s a wife and mom of two, roles that influence both her time and perspective. She’s also a dedicated soccer fan, the kind who will plan her day around a match and openly admit she’ll yell at the TV when things get heated.

Through all of it, her goal as an author is simple: she wants her characters to stay with readers long after the book ends. 

Her latest book is the new adult romantic suspense, The Arrangement (Bancroft University Chronicles Book 1).

Visit her website at www.sdlettieauthor.com. Connect with her on Facebook, Instagram, BookBub and Goodreads.

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Showcase of Dying With A secret by TJ O'Connor. (#Contests- Win an Amazon Gift Card.)

DYING WITH A SECRET

by Tj O'Connor

January 12 - February 13, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

THE DEAD DETECTIVE CASEFILES

Dying can bring out the best in people.
It can also bring out the worst of secrets.
If you want to know someone’s dirty secrets, kill them.
It works every time.

Oliver “Tuck” Tucker, the dead detective, is back—not just for another case, but from the dead—or vice versa. It all starts when a Federal Agent is killed by a mysterious force in front of dozens of witnesses—including Angel, his historian wife, and Tuck. Among the many suspects is a dark, clandestine Federal agency responsible for advanced research and weaponry, a university doctoral candidate who won’t stay dead, and the leader of a secret southern society bent on rekindling the Civil War. With the aid of a ten-year-old psychic and the spirit of Tuck’s Civil War grandmother—Sally Elizabeth Mosby—Tuck has to stay one step ahead of the Feds who are hellbent on capturing him—alive? But through all this, what’s a two-hundred-year-old lost fortune in gold got to do with dead agents, secret death rays, and rogue policemen?

DYING WITH A SECRET Trailer:

Book Details:

Genre: Paranormal Mystery, PI Cozy Mystery
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: December 9, 2025
Number of Pages: 324
ISBN: 979-8898201111 (pbk)
Series: The Dead Detective Casefiles, Book 4
Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub

The Dead Detective Casefiles

DYING TO KNOW Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

DYING FOR THE PAST Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

DYING TO TELL Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Chapter One

Dying can bring out the best in people. It can also bring out the worst of secrets. Oh, not only about the dead—sure, that’s when everyone starts whispering about the dearly departed. No, I’m talking about the secrets of the living who are left behind. Sometimes, those people get brazen about their dastardly deeds when someone involved in those deeds dies. They don’t always keep them well hidden. Often, too, a death sheds too much light on too many people. Light others would rather not be in—like Wyle E. Coyote’s oncoming train in the tunnel. It can be too revealing for some. Blinding for others. One secret often leads to another. Another death. And by another death, I mean murder.

So, if you want to know who your friends are, or what they’re truly up to, kill one.

It works every time.

What makes me so sure? Murder is my thing. I’m a homicide cop in the historic Virginia city of Winchester. Winchester has a hell of a murder rate that most don’t know about. I know because I’ve solved more than twenty murders in the last few years alone. Well, seventeen to be precise. Three deaths were accidents and suicides—not something I tell stories about. But the other seventeen—phew, what a rush. As you can see, I’m an expert on the dead.

More about that later.

At the moment, it was a beautiful August afternoon in Winchester, Virginia. As always on these beautiful August days in Winchester, it was hot as, er, … it was hot. Luckily, instead of being in the dog days of summer, I sat in the air conditioning atop a stack of wooden crates in our local library, ogling the beautiful woman working across the room from me. Her auburn hair flowed around her shoulders like a silk veil, and her green eyes sparkled even in the dark. At thirty-eight, she had the hourglass figure a twenty-year-old would die for—and today it was wrapped in jeans and a denim shirt with her sleeves rolled up to her elbows. This lady’s charm and intelligence radiated an allure that stole my heart the moment I pulled her over for an undeserved speeding ticket back in the day. Sure, sure, it was unethical. Hey, I didn’t give her the ticket after securing a date.

Fortunately, the statute of limitations on cheesy pickup ploys expired years ago.

This lady was doing her best to ignore me—difficult as it was—though she wanted nothing more than to get lost in my affections. No, really, it’s true.

Full disclosure. This angel was formally Dr. Angela Hill Tucker, Assistant Dean and Chairwoman of History at the Mosby Center for American Studies, University of the Shenandoah Valley. Yep, my wife. Today, she was researching a new historical find in the Lower-Level Research Room at the Handley Library, a local historical landmark. The Lower Level is actually the library’s finished basement. Since it’s a classy place, they call it the Lower Level.

Angel sat at a cluttered wooden desk beside crates of documents discovered in a formerly undiscovered sub-basement at the Winchester Courthouse—another historic building. Yeah, I know, we have a lot of historic buildings in town. That’s because Winchester dates back to George Washington’s day, and we’ve played a big part in American history ever since. Anyway, she had just opened one of the six large, wooden crates to begin work. The first few items she took out were more of the same as many of the other crates—folded files tied with leather straps. There were a few land maps and surveyors’ drawings, and an old silver-plate photograph of a family standing around a horse carriage with grim, pasty faces.

Angel was in heaven—pardon the pun. She spent much of her life in rooms just like this one, doing what she was now doing—researching old stuff. Okay, it’s historically significant old stuff. The other part of her life she spent in pursuit of her real passion—trying to be a crack detective like me. Oh, I’m her real passion, too. But don’t tell her I said that. It’s our secret.

All day, I’d sat with my feet propped up on a crate, bored. I had on the same clothes as usual—blue jeans, running shoes, a blue Oxford button-down shirt, and a blue blazer. Angel once called my ensemble, ‘old guy sexy.’ I don’t know about the old guy—I’m only forty-one—but I’ll take the sexy part.

“Hey, Angel,” I said, stretching. “How about we go grab takeout?”

She ignored me. Not unusual. Not that she was so focused on her work, but because working at a small table across the room was her research assistant, Andy-somebody. She didn’t want to fluster him, so she just made believe I wasn’t around. We have this thing, you see.

“Hey, it’s a beautiful summer day. Maybe steaks on the grill and wine?”

She glanced up and gave me one of those “God, I want you” looks. Okay, maybe it was a “quiet, I’m working” look.

“Angela?” The thin, shaggy-haired assistant, Andrew Pellman, walked to the stack of crates beside her. He lifted one of the crates, grunted a little from the unexpected weight, and set it on the corner of her desk. “I’m done computerizing the inventory from crates one and two. Shall I get a head start on crate four while you finish crate three?”

“No, Andrew. We’ll keep to our process.” She saw his face melt into a pout. Me, I would have let him cry, but she was the kind soul in the family. “Oh, all right. Go ahead and begin. Follow our guidelines closely. One document at a time. Identify, inventory, and scan what you can. Photograph any that won’t stand up to the scanning process. Andrew, be careful—very careful.”

His face lit up. “Sure, Angela, I’ll be careful.”

Pellman was a meek kid in his mid-twenties. He was working on his doctoral thesis at the university, and Angel was his dissertation advisor. I didn’t like him. Not one bit. I have a sixth sense about people. When he was around, my BS meter pings like it does with politicians and faux car warranty stalkers. Andy was a new class of “some people” that I hadn’t labeled yet.

“I think you should call me Professor Tucker,” Angel said with an easy tone. “Let’s keep this professional. Okay?”

“Yes, Professor Tucker.”

“It’s not personal, Andrew.”

He shrugged. “Okay.”

Angel flipped through a document and stopped. She retrieved another and did a comparison. Finally, she looked over at Pellman. “Have you seen any references to ‘M35W?’ Do you recognize it from anything you’ve done?”

“Why?” He walked to her worktable. “Is it important?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. It seems out of place. Like some kind of acronym or citation. Can you check your new research engine tomorrow?”

“Sure, okay. It’ll give me a good test run on my changes to the algorithm.” His face beamed. “Thank you.”

Andrew’s doctoral studies used computers to perform detailed research traditionally done by historians and doctoral students. One day, that program he wrote would likely replace those researchers with keyboards and mice—the electronic kind, not the crumb snatchers. You know, like self-checkout machines at the grocery store. You do all the work, and they charge you the same price. Then, they’ll fire five clerks who the machines replaced. Great plan, Andy. I wonder how many historians you’ll replace with your gadgets.

“Thank you, Andrew.” Her cell rang, and she took the call. “Professor Tucker.” The caller had Angel’s complete attention. I knew that because she jotted some notes and checked her watch twice—all the while continuing to ignore me. So, it must have been really important, right? “Yes, of course. I’ll be right up.”

“Professor Tucker?” Andrew asked.

She glanced over at Andrew as she tapped off the call. “We’re done for the day, Andrew.”

“Is something wrong?” he asked. “I can help.”

“No, it’s fine. I have to meet someone up in the rotunda. We’ll start again in the morning.” She began straightening her papers and stuffing files into her worn, leather briefcase.

“Who?” he asked.

I said, “Never you mind, sonny-boy. You work for her, not the other way around.” I winked at Angel. “Millennials, right?”

She hefted her briefcase. “Something to do with our Apple Harvest research.”

“Okay.” He glanced at the crates of research. “Want me to gather up your research and get it to your car? There’s an awful lot here.”

“Actually, yes. If you don’t mind.” She gave him the keypad code for her Explorer. “Leave my briefcase and the files beside it here. The rest can go in my vehicle. Please make sure it’s locked when you’re done. Thank you.”

“Sure thing, Professor Tucker.” His face lit up. “See you in the morning.”

I followed Angel through the Stewart Bell Jr. Archive Room, into the Lower Lobby, and up the stairs toward the main library entrance.

“I don’t like him, Angel. He’s shifty.”

“Shifty, Tuck?” Finally, she acknowledged me. I wore her down. “No one says ‘shifty’ anymore.”

“It’s coming back in style.”

She grinned and whispered, “Is that your detective-senses talking or because he stares at me when he thinks I’m not looking?”

“He doesn’t stare. He ogles.”

“Yes, he ogles.”

“I can get Bear to check him—”

“No, Tuck. He’s fine. I don’t like it when you’re jealous.”

Me, jealous? No. It was purely a professional irritation I felt whenever Andy was around. Truly.

We reached the first-floor hall that led into the main library rooms. There, she made her way into the rotunda at the library entrance. She stopped beside a high-back wood bench where Library Lil—the bronze statue of a young girl reading a book—sat.

A tall, thin man about thirty stepped out of one of the meeting rooms along the west hallway. He glanced around before he headed our way. He wore dark slacks and a dark sport jacket over a white, button-down dress shirt that was untucked in that new-millennial style, and penny-loafers. He strode to us and looked around his entire trip.

“That must be Special Agent Kerns with the DOD,” Angel whispered. “He called just now.”

A fed? Interested in her research? I asked her that.

“I don’t know. He said it was about my Apple Harvest research and that it was classified. Go wait somewhere.”

“I am somewhere. I’m here.”

She gave me the evil eye, so I meandered to a bench nearby.

As Kerns approached, fingers began dancing up my spine—hot, pointy fingers. I didn’t like those fingers. Every time they did the mambo up my vertebrae, something bad happened in the next few beats.

Kerns reached Angel, proffered a hand, and said something with a serious, tight expression on his face. Then, he hooked a thumb toward the main entrance doors.

Angel shook his hand and smiled faintly, a sure sign she was unsure of him.

Those fingers reached the base of my brain and squeezed…

“Angel, get down!” I lunged forward and pulled her away from Kerns, down behind Library Lil’s bench.

Kerns stood there, frozen in an eerie mist. His arms shot out sideways, and he seemed to lift onto his toes. His face contorted into a stunned, painful grimace.

“Tuck?” Angel cried. “What’s happening to him?”

Hell if I knew.

Kerns’ entire body vibrated and shuddered. He staggered backward and collapsed onto the floor, writhing. The lights above us flickered wildly and went out. The original iron, brass, and blown-glass chandelier swayed dramatically two floors overhead. Its lights flickered and went dark.

When I glanced back at Kerns lying on the floor, I cringed.

Blood flowed from his ears, nose, and mouth. It seeped from his eye sockets, where his eyeballs looked like soft-boiled eggs stewing in their sockets. His hands and fingers were dark red and bony. His face and neck had oddly sunk, and his skin looked like it had been draped over his bones as though someone had sucked the tissue and muscle from beneath. He looked like he had melted inside.

The only thing left of him was his clothes and a spreading pool of goo.

Kerns was dead, sure enough. He’d been murdered, too, right in front of Angel and a dozen people. I knew no one had seen anything. No one heard anything. No one knew anything. Me included.

Well, that’s not true. I knew something. Special Agent Kerns didn’t die of a heart attack because of a poor diet. He wasn’t killed by a sniper with a silenced rifle, a knife-throwing ninja assassin, or by an Amazonian’s blow dart. He died of something else.

What killed him, I had no idea. But it scared the life out of me.

***

Excerpt from Dying With A Secret by Tj O'Connor. Copyright 2025 by Tj O'Connor. Reproduced with permission from Tj O'Connor. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Tj O’Connor is an award-winning author of mysteries and thrillers. He’s an international security consultant specializing in antiterrorism, investigations, and threat analysis—life experiences that drive his novels. With his former life as a government agent and years as a consultant, he has lived and worked around the world in places like Greece, Turkey, Italy, Germany, the United Kingdom, and throughout the Americas—among others. In his spare time, he’s a Harley Davidson pilot, a man-about-dogs (and now cats), and a lover of adventure, cooking, and good spirits (both kinds). He was raised in New York’s Hudson Valley and lives with his wife, Labs, and Maine Coon companions in Virginia where they raised five children who are supplying a growing tribe of grands.

Catch Up With Tj O'Connor:

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Instagram - @tjoconnorauthor
Twitter/X - @Tjoconnorauthor
Facebook - @TjOConnor.Author
YouTube - @tjoconnorauthor3905

 

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Book Blitz of Find Me At The Disco by Diahanna Aurora Hampton. (#Contests- Win a Signed Copy of The Book.)

Find Me At The Disco
Diahanna Aurora Hampton
Publication date: January 8th 2026
Genres: Action, Romance

New York, 1977. Liza Collins is struggling to reconcile her relationship with her father, Will, after a lifetime of secrets and betrayal. Upon graduating from boarding school in London, Liza returns to her hometown of New York City seeking answers about her childhood that Will has largely left unanswered. Instead of answers, Liza unearths a series of illicit affairs, sham marriages, and financial troubles her father has tried to keep buried.

As Liza struggles with these findings and navigates adulthood, she meets Jennifer Blake-a woman who introduces her to a world of drugs, alcohol, and disco. In the midst of it all, Liza then discovers something about her family that she never could have imagined, clouding her judgment and sense of self. Consequently, Will is forced to either confess his mistakes or give up on his relationship with his daughter entirely.

Goodreads / Purchase

—

EXCERPT:

Jennifer grabbed Liza’s arm. “Let’s go boogie!”

“I don’t know. It’s kind of crowded.”

Liza stood awkwardly, watching people bump into each other. “That’s the best though, people moving their bodies against you. No one cares if you can’t dance, you just move to the beat and have fun.”

Before Liza could respond, a different song came on, Donna Summer’s “I Feel Love,” making people cheer and dance faster than before.

“Oh my God! I love this song, come on!” Jennifer squealed.

Liza let Jennifer pull her onto the dance floor. At first, she wasn’t really dancing. She kept getting shoved and pushed as she stood in front of Jennifer, who automatically moved to the beat. She tried to mimic her friend’s movements, but she felt unsure of herself as she struggled to get the right rhythm. Jennifer must have noticed Liza’s efforts, as she turned Liza around and placed her hands on her hips to help guide her. The song’s beat got easier for Liza to follow as she heard Donna Summer’s voice hum from the speakers.

Liza relaxed as the alcohol coursed through her veins. She let her body move under Jennifer’s direction and stopped overthinking. Jennifer turned Liza back around to face her, moving their bodies closer. Jennifer reached into her pocket to show Liza a few pills in a small plastic bag. She still moved to the beat when she popped one in her mouth and then promptly kissed Liza, transfer-ring a piece of the pill from her tongue to Liza’s. When Jennifer pulled away, she smirked.

After a few moments, Liza threw her head back as she felt the drug take hold. She saw the disco ball spinning above her, and the multicolored lights flashing around the club. Her vision blurred, coming in and out of focus like a kaleidoscope. Jennifer was behind her again bumping and grinding, leaving no room between them. Liza’s heart rate sped up, and she felt sweat drip down her neck. It was hot on the dance floor. Although she was breathing heavily, she continued to dance, letting the beat take over her movements.

They danced for several more songs, each one faster than the last. Liza’s skin was slick from sweat.

Author Bio:

Diahanna Aurora Hampton is a Boston based writer with a B.A. in Art Studies. Find Me At The Disco is her first novel.

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Book Blitz of Forrest House by E.M Hamill. (#Contests- Win An Amazon Gift Card.)

Forrest House
E.M. Hamill
Publication date: January 11th 2026
Genres: Adult, Fantasy

Ander Forrest renounced blood magic to become a nurse-healer in his rural hometown, far from the drama of wizardry and espionage his sister Kate craved. When Kate goes missing in action, Ander finds himself the legal guardian of her gifted twins and receives a cryptic warning from Kate’s husband to protect them before he, too, disappears.

Six months later, his former lover crash lands in the kids ’bedroom via a spell only Ander’s sister could have cast. Druid Cai Piper doesn’t remember how he got there, but he knows he never stopped loving Ander, and that he was sent to protect him and the twins. Cai is strangely drawn to Forrest House and the land it stands upon.

With the secrets of a clandestine wizards ’order hanging between them, Cai and Ander must remember how to trust each other as sinister forces move against the Forrest family—magical terrorists who want to exploit their rare sorcery and bring the world to its knees.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

—

EXCERPT:

Cai cleared his throat. “You said I’m in America?”

“Yeah.”

“And if I was sent by a bloodspell, does that mean Remy and Raven are here?”

“Well, of course.” Ander blinked as Cai closed his eyes and sighed. He wasn’t sure if it was relief or defeat. “You didn’t know,” he said.

“No. Edwyn kept it a secret, even from me.” His fingers touched the blood-matted knot at the back of his head in tentative exploration. “I must have been out. I would never have let him send me otherwise. He was bleeding badly.” His hand tapped an area high and to the outside on his left leg. “Shot in the thigh.”

Ander thought of all the major blood vessels there and breathed a plea to the Goddess that none were severed. “I didn’t think the Fellowship used bullets.”

“We don’t. We were on a joint mission with intelligence agents. Someone started lobbing spells at us and our allies turned and shot each other. He was hit in the crossfire.”

“A Judas spell?” Ander frowned.

“I think so.”

“Were you working with British intelligence?”

Cai opened his mouth to answer, then flinched and rubbed both sides of his head. “Some of my memories are missing. It’s painful to think about.”

“I think you might have a concussion.”

“Maybe. But this feels more like it was blocked by a spell.”

“By Edwyn?”

“I don’t think he would have had time. Not surrounded by guns and magic.” His breath became uneven again, and he sat unsteadily on the bed. “The harder I try to think about it, the more it hurts.”

“Don’t try right now.” Ander came closer and put his fingers under Cai’s jaw, forcing him to look up so he could peer into his eyes. Still no signs of a more serious head injury, but he wasn’t satisfied until he ran his fingers under Cai’s clotted hair to cradle the bruised lump beneath his palm, his senses open for new bleeding. He didn’t discover any.

Cai stared at him as he pulled away, his face inches from Ander’s. They both became aware at the same time of how close he was standing, his hands gentle on the back of Cai’s head as if he were going to draw him into a kiss. Ander slowly stepped back.

“I have to find a way to get back to…” Cai frowned. “To…damn it! They took that, too. I don’t know where we were.” He looked to Ander with a desolate gaze. “I don’t even know if Edwyn’s alive.”

“You can’t ask the Fellowship?”

He stiffened. “No, I can’t.”

“I’d feel better if I could get you to a hospital.”

“I’ll be fine. I think it’s clear I’m meant to protect you and the twins.”

“Protect us from what?” He sat on the bed next to him. “What’s going on, Cai? Why wouldn’t Ed tell you where the kids were?”

He didn’t answer, his gaze slipping sideways.

Ander had not missed this infuriating silence. Kate had pushed Ander away with it, Edwyn maintained it, and Cai had used it to shut down questions when they were together.

He’d left Wales and come home because the people he loved most in the world could barely talk to him unless he was inducted into the Fellowship.

Fury rose in scarlet floods with Cai’s refusal to speak. Ander let it crest. “That’s fantastic. Of course you can’t say anything. Then tell me how to protect them and get the fuck out.”

“You don’t—”

“They’re all I have left of Kate! I need to know how to protect them!”

“If you’re going to shout at me, then I will take that paracetamol now.” His voice was soft, defeated. A crease furrowed the skin between his brows, and the tight lines of his body spoke of more pain than a headache. Ander didn’t have to imagine the grief of not knowing if his brother was dead or alive. He knew only too well.

“I’m sorry.” Ander exhaled, forcing himself to calm. “We aren’t done,” he said in a less strident tone. “You will tell me what’s going on. Fuck the Fellowship and your code of secrecy! Those kids are my priority now. They’ve already lost their mother, and now maybe their father. No more.”

To his surprise, Cai nodded. “I promise I will tell you what I know.”

Disconcerted by his unexpected victory, Ander reluctantly let his anger drain away.

“Are you hungry? I’m making dinner.”

“Starving. I can’t recall when I last ate anything.”

“It’ll be ready in half an hour. Make sure you drink the rest of that water.” He turned to go.

“Ander.” Cai’s expression was gentle as Ander looked back over his shoulder. “It’s good to see you.”

Author Bio:

E.M. (Elisabeth) Hamill writes adult science fiction and fantasy somewhere in the wilds of eastern suburban Kansas. A nurse by day, wordsmith by night, she is happy to give her geeky imagination free rein and has sworn never to grow up and get boring.

She lives with her family, where they fend off flying monkey attacks and prep for the zombie apocalypse.

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