Anyhoo, I'm over at The Nuthouse Scribblers today with a giveaway to celebrate The Bear Project, which will release on Thursday, so do pop on over. There is an exclusive first look at the official excerpt. I warn you, though, you'll need a fan...
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The lovely Lauren Cremant is back with her Modern Fairy Tale, Wynter's Fall
*****
BLURB:
An unsuspecting mortal, A Keeper of Dreams, And a group of Gods intent on reclaiming powers they no longer deserve... Melania Wynter has a big problem, the man of her actual dreams is becoming all too real. Determined to gain back some control over her life, she hopes that a a little vacation will be enough for her psyche to stop comparing her real life to the vivid dreams she's had since childhood. But one patch of ice, a solid pine tree and a nasty bump on the head derail her plans.
Daiomone, Keeper of Dreams has always been drawn to Melania. He's bided his time, waiting for her to cross-over to his realm, but manipulative God's have interfered in unexpected ways. With a helping hand from fate, he must go to Melania and keep her safe.
Together they must navigate the wilderness and survive both the cold and trouble-making Gods.
EXCERPT:
“Melania, you need to snap out of
it.”
She tensed as Daimone’s voice filled
her head again. Reaching up, she touched the throbbing knot on her head and
moaned.
It was official. She’d finally gone
off the deep end. “This is so not happening.”
His deep chuckle resonated through
her mind. “Ignoring me won’t make me go away.”
She huddled tighter against her
drawn up legs.
“Trust me. I know,” she mumbled.
He was a major contributing factor
in her need for rest and relaxation. Her trip had been a last ditch effort
before she threw in the proverbial towel and saw a therapist regarding her
little problem.
However, now thanks to a stupid
patch of ice, her brain was scrambled and her dream man on the loose. Somewhere
on WebMD, there must be a section dedicated to her current condition. It
would be a perfectly descriptive affliction that fit her every symptom to a
“T”.
Ohshititis—hallucinations and
hysteria brought on by extreme situations and chronic bad luck.
“You need to get moving, love.”
Why not just go with it? Considering her circumstances, she was, after all, due for
a little hysteria.
“Well, excuse me if I want to take a
moment to recover from a death-defying event here.”
“The storm is coming closer,
love. You have to get moving.”
Lifting her head, she peered up into
the thick veil of snow falling all around her. She blinked rapidly as a flurry
of snowflakes drifted down on her face with, she was sure, a type of maniacal
glee.
“The clock is ticking, Princess.”
“First of all, you are so not
the boss of me. You’re not even real. You’re just a figment of my imagination.”
“We really don’t have time to
discuss this right now.”
“Wait, I’m still unconscious, aren’t
I?”
She glanced back at her car,
partially expecting to see a specter of herself slumped over the wheel.
His long sigh drifted through her
mind. She could almost feel his breath tickle the nape of her neck.
“Why do you always have to be so
stubborn?” he responded.
She scrunched her brow at his words,
refusing to be badgered by a figment of her imagination. Considering the state
of things, her choices were either unconsciousness, insanity, or worse yet,
admitting that she was well and truly screwed.
She opted for unconsciousness.
It must be the only thing that
explained the presence of Daimone’s voice in her head. For as long as she could
remember, she’d dreamed of him. He’d appeared in her dreams even as a child. In
the beginning, he was a child just as she’d been. But as the years passed, he’d
aged along with her.
Sometimes, months would pass between
his visits, but even when she dreamed of other people and things, she’d felt
him watching her in the corner of her mind. He’d been her secret companion, her
solace for years.
Her cheeks heated as she thought of
how he’d also become other things to her. It began the night she’d returned
from her family’s summer vacation at the beach. She’d only been fifteen at the
time and missed frolicking in the sun with friends. That night, she’d dreamed
of lying on the beach soaking in the sun.
Daimone had appeared and sat down
next to her, nudging her playfully in the ribs. She’d opened her eyes, and for
the first time, noticed the breadth of his shoulders, his strong jaw, and
twinkling blue eyes.
A flash of heat had raced across her
flesh as sunlight had kissed his golden skin. For the first time, she felt the
urge to kiss a boy. Her body had yearned to touch and be touched.
Her lips quirked as she thought back
on that dream. She’d acted on impulse then. She’d reached up and pulled him
down to her, pursing her lips onto his. He’d yanked away looking surprised, but
she still remembered the way she’d tingled at the touch of his lips on hers.
She rarely saw him in her dreams for
several years after that. He would appear as a passerby or random face in a
crowd, but never played a starring role. Not until her parents died several
years after she completed college did he become a reoccurring feature in her
dreams again.
“As much as I love this little
jaunt down memory lane, it’s time to make a decision.”
His voice had lost its calm tone and
held a definite edge of irritation.
“I’ll make this easier for you.
You’re not unconscious, you’re not crazy. So that leaves only one option.”
“Don’t say it,” she said.
“You’re fucked, love, and not in
a good way.”
She groaned.
Of course she was.
BUY LINKS:
Barnes
& Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/wynters-fall-laurel-cremant/1117786927?ean=2940148910886
ABOUT LAUREL CREMANT
Laurel is a romance
author, who like most writers loves to read. Her first love (pun intended) has
always been romance. From the sappy YA romance novel to the more risqué erotica
novels, Laurel is a sucker for a good love story.
Laurel writes paranormal
and contemporary romance and is a self-proclaimed, out of the closet nerd. She
admits that she can't seem to avoid adding a bit of "nerdology" or
"geek-dom" to all of her books. Living in Miami, she also admits that
she can't seem to avoid giving her heroines gorgeous shoes, "In Miami,
we worship everything strappy, open toed and just plain hot!"
AUTHOR WEBSITE &
LINKS
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