Welcome to this book blitz organised by Xpresso Book Tours. Check out more about this collection of science fiction and fantasy stories below along with an excerpt.
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MYTHS & MAGIC sends you on a wild ride across universes where a safe return cannot be guaranteed.
Abolished magic returns to Earth. Telekinetic sorcerers, witches, and fairies discover their powers. Humans become cyborgs. Dragons prowl the depths of Iceland’s volcanoes.
All this and more is packed inside one boxed set overflowing with stories from today’s hottest USA Today and International Bestselling authors!
From dystopian thrillers to steampunk romance, from gothic fantasies to paranormal adventures, come journey with unlikely heroes, valiant shifters, rogue vampires, and even a sensual brujo. Dabble in scientific espionage, thwart scheming sorcerers, and challenge hordes of vengeful demons. And maybe fall in love…
If you’re ready for 21 exclusive full-length novels and novellas, including some BRAND NEW material, in a boxed set where vampires, shifters, ghosts, demons, and even Djinn haunt the pages, then fall into MYTHS & MAGIC, a collection of science fiction, fantasy, and a dash of paranormal romance that will take you to the edge of your imagination
Pre-Order today to secure YOUR copy of this exciting collection!
HEART OF FIRE
Back Cover Copy:
The old eddas speak of dreki—fabled creatures who haunt the depths of Iceland’s volcanoes, and steal away fair maidens.
Freyja wants none of such myths. Dreki seducing young ladies? Ha. They probably eat such foolish girls. But when the local dreki steals her last ram—costing her any chance of feeding her ill father through the winter—Freyja intends to confront the fearsome myth. Sentenced to a life of exile from his clan, Rurik is fascinated by the furious woman who comes to claim her ram. She reeks of mysterious magic, and challenges him at every step. He intends to claim the passionate firebrand, but to do so he must take mortal form.
It’s the only time the dreki are vulnerable, and with a dragon-hunter arriving on the shores of Iceland, he can barely afford the risk—but lonely Freyja, with her elf-cursed eyes and pragmatic soul, tempts him in ways he’s never felt before. Is she the key to reclaiming his heritage? Or will she be his downfall?
Leaning under the overhang of the cave mouth, Freyja knelt and untied the small lantern from her belt. She dragged her gloves off and cupped her hands around the wick. Come. Dance for me. Her breath stirred the small wick and then a tiny flame sputtered to life, flaring up and almost singeing her hands.
Something shifted in the darkness; a sense of the mountain listening, as if it felt her small magic. Freyja placed a hand on the barren ground. Easy. She soothed it, stroking it with the awareness within her, feeling it tremble beneath her touch.
An alien presence brushed against her mind and Freyja froze, sucking in a sharp breath. The pressure was almost overwhelming, a mountain leaning down upon her. Then suddenly it was gone.
Freyja closed the small glass door on the lantern, and stared into the darkness of the lava tube. “That is right,” she whispered in Norse. “You know I am here.”
The lantern guided her into the heart of the mountain. The air reeked of sulfur and burned cinnamon, smoky spices. A scent that was incredibly appealing. She breathed it in, feeling it sweep through her, warming her from within. Somehow she knew it, though she had never breathed its like before.
The scent drugged her, luring her ever deeper. Ice gleamed in a thin sheen over the entrance floor, melting with each passing step as the air warmed. The walls were smooth, with rough bands at interval heights where lava had flowed, like the tidemark on the caves by the sea.
As she turned a corner, taking careful, stalking steps, something gleamed white and stark at the corner of her vision.
Freyja spun, holding the lantern high. A leering skull stared back at her, the owner slumped forever against the wall, his pitted armor tarnished and rusted. A sword hung clasped in bony fingers. Swallowing hard, Freyja crouched beside it and tugged the skeletal fingers away from the hilt as she exchanged it for the bow.
She could feel that other awareness watching her, listening as if it could hear her.
You won’t frighten me. You won’t.
The tunnel opened into a larger cavern, enormous stalactites stabbing sharp fingers down from the roof, some touching the floors in dripping columns much like melted candlewax. Piles of gold coins glittered in the darkness, heaped at the sides of the cavern as if the press of the enormous wyrm’s body forced them there. Winking gemstones. A dozen rubies at least. For a moment Freyja couldn’t think. She could only stare at the veritable hoard in front of her. Wyrms were said to be voracious for treasure, guarding it with their fierce tempers, but here was coin enough to see her father fed forever. The entire village. Perhaps even all of Iceland.
Her fingers itched to take just enough to buy a dozen ewes and several rams to replace what had been stolen. The gold meant little to her, but the concept of what she could buy with it was incredibly tempting.
She could buy a future for her and her father.
As if sensing her thoughts, a warning rumble smoked its way through the tunnel. Freyja tore her gaze from the glittering piles. The dreki were possessive of their treasures, it was said. To even think of taking but one coin was to bring her own death down upon her.
It was warmer here; sweat trickled down the back of her neck and between her bound breasts. Freyja held the sword in front of her, sweeping the darkness with the lantern. He was here. Somewhere. She could feel the dark energy of his power, dwelling in the shadows like some enormous smoldering volcano.
“So now they send my tithe to me?”
The thought-whisper almost crushed her, and her fingers clenched around the sword hilt as she ground her teeth together. Pressure built behind Freyja’s left eye; a stabbing ache that promised to make her head throb for days. She drew her focus in on herself, creating a shield against the immense presence. The pressure eased.
“I’m not your tithe,” she called back. “The village pays you its tithe! And you have stolen my ram!”
A husky chuckle rumbled in the darkness, like a cat purring. Movement shifted, diamond-hard scales rasping over the polished stone floors. Freyja took a step back, her breath catching as she raked the darkness for signs of the wyrm.
Don’t be afraid. He can’t kill you. We pay the tithe, she told herself. Still the sensation of the dreki watching her made her nerves thrum with anticipation. She held the sword low, sweeping it in front of her.
“Tithe?” the dragon whispered. “Your village has not paid its tithe in three moons. So I will take what is owed. Your ram was… delicious.”
Freyja’s lips pressed tightly together. Too late to save Henrik. Something hot and impotent burned at the back of her eyes.
Then she realized what he had said.
The tithe hadn’t been paid.
The dragon was no longer bound by his word not to harm her.
Blitz-Wide International Giveaway (Ends August 10th)
Book & Buy Links
Title: Myths & Magic
Genre: Adult | Paranormal Romance | Science Fiction | Urban Fantasy
Publication Date: 22 August 2017
Review Format: N/A
Other Formats: eBook
Buy: Amazon UK | Amazon US