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THE WEIRD GIRLS – New Release

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THE WEIRD GIRLS

by Cecy Robson
Weird Girls, #0.5
Re-release Publication Date: December 28, 2018
Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy, Romance, Standalone

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AVAILABLE NOW! FIRST TIME IN PRINT!

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SYNOPSIS:

Celia Wird and her three sisters are just like other 20-something girls—with one tiny exception: they’re products of a backfired curse that has given each of them unique powers that make them, well, a little weird…

The Wird sisters are different from every race on earth—human and supernatural. When human society is no longer an option for them, they move in among the resident vampires, werebeasts, and witches of the Lake Tahoe region. Could this be the true home they’ve longed for? Um, not quite. After the sisters accidentally strip a witch of her powers in a bar brawl, they soon realize the mistake will cost them. Because to take on a witch means to take on her coven. And losing the battle isn’t an option.

THE WEIRD GIRLS teaser

THE WEIRD GIRLS EXCLUSIVE: CHAPTER ONE

The music pounded hard enough to shake Emme’s fuzzy navel, the umbrella in Shayna’s piña colada, Taran’s martini, and my Corona. I’d shoved pieces of cocktail napkin into my über sensitive ears the moment we sat. But I wasn’t going to complain about the eardrum-busting music or the crowd of young men sitting across from us ogling my sisters. We were there to celebrate.

Two years had passed since we’d left our native New Jersey. Two years of roaming the States as travelling nurses. Two years of searching for a place to settle down. We’d stumbled into the Lake Tahoe region when our agency transferred us to a local hospital on temporary assignment. We’d thought it would be fun to check out the area. We hadn’t expected to fall in love with the lush forests, the breathtaking mountains, or the mysticism of the lake. But we had, and collectively agreed to make it our home sweet home.

Shayna raised her girly drink; her blue eyes and grin sparkled despite the dimness in the booth. “To the Wird Girls finding an awesome place to live,” she hiccupped.

“To a thirty-year mortgage and a shitload of remodeling,” Taran muttered. She tried to complain, but couldn’t hide that siren grin that made males trip over their erections. She was happy to settle down, and she damn well knew it.

“To beautiful Lake Tahoe,” Emme added almost silently. She blushed when I glanced her way. I’d like to say she was just tipsy, but no. Emme blushed as easily as the wind blew fireflies. “W-well it is beautiful here, Celia.”

“I know, sweetie.” I tapped my bottle against her frou-frou drink. “Salud.”

I polished off my beer. It was my sixth round, still no buzz. Then again I could chug a keg. Alcohol had no effect on me. My lightweight sisters already slurred their words after three. In their defense, they didn’t have an inner beast with the metabolism of four linebackers to help them out. The waitress rushed over and slapped another Corona down before I could ask and hurried off. I snagged it before it tipped over. Ordinarily one might think of her as a diligent, fast, hardworking, go-getter―nah, she was just scared I’d eat her. Humans never knew what we were, yet they perceived we weren’t anything like them. They didn’t need the amplified senses of preternaturals to know we were different. Problem was, different didn’t appeal to most. And “weird” just plain terrified.

“Oh my goodness,” Emme said. “You didn’t even peek her way or anything.”

My sisters had definitely received the less-daunting side of our backfired curse. I pushed my long hair from my face and shrugged. After years of being feared, I was almost used to it. Almost. “I don’t think tigers have to necessarily look at their prey to scare them.”

Emme placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. The jarring club lights further lightened her fair skin and blond hair and bleached out most of her freckles. “It’s not you, Celia. It’s these silly humans who never want to give you a chance. You’re beautiful. And so is your inner golden tigress.”

Taran rolled her huge blue eyes. “Tigers are beautiful, Emme. But most people aren’t stupid enough to pet one.” She sipped her martini as she gave me the once-over. “Or piss one off.”

Or date one, I thought to myself, taking in the frat boys on spring break continuing to stare and whisper about my sisters.

“Adriana Lima is mine,” one said of Taran.

“I’ll take the blonde,” the other murmured.

“I’ll go with the cute brunette with the ponytail.”

“Hey, I called dibs on her first,” his friend complained.

There were four of them. Four of us. One of the guys fighting over Shayna had taken an interest in me. That is, until he looked at me. Really looked at me. He smiled, but his scent of anticipation and lust quickly evaporated, replaced by the aroma of fear. He’d seen beyond my green eyes, olive skin, and long wavy hair to spot the predator lurking within. He saw her ready to pounce, ready to shred, ready to kill. Beautiful or not, tigers had that effect on humans.

Taran shimmied out of the booth. An impressive feat in the tiny, curve-hugging yellow dress she wore. If the hem lay an inch shorter, she’d end up on the Internet. “Shit. I have to pee.”

Shayna grinned at Taran as she ambled out, her eyes alternating from sparkly to glassy. So not a good sign. “I think that’s an oxymoron, dude.” She threw in a giggle, just to further clarify she was snockered.

I shook my head. Emme smiled softly. “I’ll go with Taran.” Emme was only five feet tall, and just shy of a hundred pounds soaking wet and bloated. Taran, although only three inches taller, towered over her in those step ladders she affectionately referred to as “shoes.” Me? Nothing said comfy like jeans, Uggs, and a long-sleeved tee.

The minute they disappeared into the hall leading to the ladies room, one of the good ol’ frat boys approached Shayna, careful to avoid eye contact with me. “Hey, hot stuff. How about a dance?”

Shayna’s glee faded when she realized I’d be alone if she went to dance. I smiled as best I could without scaring her potential date for the evening. “It’s okay. I’ll just hang and wait for Emme. Go on,” I urged when she hesitated.

The guy snaked his arm around Shayna and led her onto the dance floor. Her sleek black ponytail whipped behind her as she shot me one more tentative glance. She watched me for a while. At first I thought she might return to hang with her spinster-in-the-making sister until the call of Beyoncé loosened the hesitant muscles of her slender frame. It didn’t take long for Shayna to move like the world’s happiness depended on her booty shakes. It did, however, take a hell of a long time for Emme and Taran to return from the bathroom. The waitress dropped my eighth beer down just as I spotted Emme’s hands waving madly amidst the crowd forming near the ladies’ room. “Celia! Ceeeeeelia!”

What the hell?

I slipped out of the booth and rushed toward the crowd. The throng of horny and drunken patrons parted as I stalked, my hips swinging like a predator staking out her turf. That’s right. Stay back. Scary female approaching.

As I reached Emme, a deep buzzing sound vibrated from the bathroom, followed by a high-pitched squeal, topped off by Taran’s oh-so colorful language. I half-groaned, half-growled. Crap. How much trouble can someone get into in the bathroom?

I froze. Apparently a lot.

A fiery redhead stomped out of the restroom smelling like burnt toast, sporting a spiky new hairdo most porcupines would envy. I swore under my breath. Taran must have struck her with a mini-bolt of lightning. Her tresses stood out like wires, and the singed tips smoked. And God only knew what Taran had done to the rest of her dress. Scorched pieces of fabric barely covered Red’s pricey and fricasseed bra.

Her crazed eyes scanned the crowd. “Who’s with the slutty brunette?”

Emme glanced my way before raising a cautious hand. “Sh-sh-she’s my sister.”

The redhead stormed to Emme and jabbed an irate finger in her face. “Your sister’s a bitch.”

Maybe. But Emme certainly wasn’t. I shoved my way between them. “Leave her alone, and get out of our way.” My raspy voice remained deceptively calm. Yet Red easily picked up on my underlying threat: Mess with her, mess with me.

Red’s finger slowly lowered and her jaw slackened. She stumbled back, tripping over her feet and shoving her way through the crowd and out the exit. The ladies in line quickly followed suit and gave us ample room to pass. Perhaps there was a nice fir tree they could use out back. Emme stayed close to my heels as I shoved opened the door to the bathroom, her meek little voice shaking. “Should I get Shayna?”

“No, I think―”

My first clue should have been that Taran’s swear words had stopped bouncing off the stark white tiles like ping-pong balls. My second? The waft of dry herbs that filtered into my nose and screamed a warning. Witch. Witch magic. Taran was going head-to-head with an official worship-the-earth-talisman-wearing-broom-humper extraordinaire.

Taran’s blue irises blanched to crystal from the gamut of power tingling around a sandy-haired witch’s aura. “Sandy” smiled though it lacked any hint of warmth, friendliness, or love. In fact, if she was going for, “I’ll skin you alive and use your flesh as bedroom slippers,” one might say she pulled it off.

“Silentio. Non vide,” Sandy muttered, all the while smiling and calling forth her bladder-releasing power.

Knowing Spanish helped me translate the Latin words. Silence and . . . don’t look?

Every muscle and tendon in my body tightened. She’d cast a spell to conceal any sound, any image from the club patrons. Jesus, what did she plan to do?

The aroma of crushed thyme thickened the air as her spell accelerated, coating my taste buds with a hint of her power. Yup, definitely not a good sign. My inner tigress circled restlessly, pawing at my ribcage with her claws, demanding out. “Taran,” I warned, “time to go home.”

Taran met the witch’s smile with one that sent Emme running, hopefully to get Shayna, the car, or both. The heavy door swung shut behind Emme. A loud click told me Sandy locked us in, and anyone who could possibly help us out. Sparks sizzled from the tips of Taran’s elegantly manicured hands as she gathered her magic. “No worries, Ceel. This will only take a minute.”

“Taran,” I warned again. My fangs protruded without my consent. Another sign proclaiming deep shittiness awaited.

The sparks magnified into mini bolts of lightning as Taran stretched out her fingers. A small funnel of wind gathered around Sandy, sending bits of abandoned toilet paper circling around her. The fluorescent lights hummed and flickered just before everything went black.

“Taran!”

I tackled Taran into the handicapped stall as the equivalent of a supernatural cherry bomb took out the wall instead of my sister. The hole, roughly the size of our new dining room table, gave a great view of the dance floor where Shayna continued to shake her tiny, yet obviously shimmy-able butt. The crowd of onlookers had returned to their drunken debauchery, swallowing poor Emme as she jumped up and down trying futilely to get Mini-Shakira’s attention. It might have been funny, had I not feared we were finally about to die that miserable death we’d spent a lifetime avoiding.

Taran rubbed her head. “Son of a bitch.”

A deep growl thundered in my chest. My tigress eyes replaced my own and locked on the witch’s feet. She casually walked across the checkered floor, her red stilettos clicking like the pendulum of a grandfather clock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.

She reeled into the black stall where we lay. Time was up.

For her.

“Well, well―”

I kicked the door right in her face.

She flew backwards into the sink and smashed her head into the mirror. Sometimes, I couldn’t control my strength. Fear of dying in a public bathroom will do that to a gal. I hauled Taran up by her elbow while her latest fan seemed down for the count. The cracks in the mirror spiderwebbed from her bleeding skull. I secretly hoped that since it was technically her head that broke the mirror, the bad luck fell on her.

When Sandy lurched from the sink and a second, equally pissed-off version of herself appeared to block the door leading out, I knew I was very much mistaken. Taran’s head whipped back and forth between them. “It’s the same person,” I snarled. She smelled the same, looked the same, and also bled from her forehead the same way. The only difference was she’d divided her magic in two.

Taran gathered her power once more. “I’ll take the bitch at the door. You take the bitch at the sink.”

Sandy―both of them―surprised me by laughing. “Mures,” they both spat.

That one pretty much got lost in translation. I prowled toward her. My claws shot from my fingers like bullets from a chamber. She didn’t move. She didn’t gather her magic. She didn’t blink. She simply laughed. Either she’d hit her head a little too hard or she didn’t fear us. The latter scared the hell out of me. My beast remained sure we could take her. My human half knew something sinister lurked beneath, bubbling with a touch of dark and a spoonful of evil.

A transparent heaviness filled the air, reeking of garbage and festering meat. The ten plastic soap dispensers lining the wall of the mammoth counter exploded one by one, like a row of bottles being shot to bits. Paper towels fluttered in the air around us like birds. The pipes beneath us clanged and a toilet flushed for no reason.

I hated when my human side was right.

I heard the first squeak and the scratch of tiny clawed feet followed by a few more. A lot more. Taran heard it, too. In her panic, she blasted a bolt of lightning into her psycho witch, taking out the obviously evil tampon dispenser in the far wall. Chunks of cardboard and cotton pelted me in the hair and back, and still I heard the squeaks getting louder, getting closer, getting scurrier.

The Sandy Taran attempted to fight had somehow appeared on the sink next to her other half. She sat on the counter with her legs crossed, swinging them merrily as the result of her enchantment reached a creepy crescendo.

The large brass drain near the sinks began to stir. “Taran. We need to get out of here.”

“Damn it, Celia―”

I clutched her arm when the brass drain tipped and a pink whiskered nose poked through. Mures. . . . Rats.

THE WEIRD GIRLS teaser 2

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ABOUT CECY ROBSON

Cecy Robson is an author of contemporary and new adult romance, young adult adventure, and award-winning urban fantasy. A double-nominated RITA® Finalist, Winner of the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence, and published author of more than twenty titles, you can typically find Cecy on her laptop or stumbling blindly in search of caffeine.

Connect with Cecy online:

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Urban Fantasy / Paranormal Date Published: 8/28/19 Publisher: Story Bound Publishing As I lay trapped
A CURSED MOON by Cecy Robson Weird Girls, #2.5 Publication Date: January 30, 2019 Genres:
A Curse Awakened by Cecy Robson Weird Girls, #0.4 Re-release Publication Date: November 28, 2018
GONE HUNTING by Cecy Robson Weird Girls, #0.3 Publication Date: October 24, 2018 Genres: Adult,

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Vengeance Aside – Book Blitz

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Vengeance Aside

by Nancy Haviland
Wanted Men, #0.5
Publication Date: November 21, 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Organized Crime, Mafia, Romance

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SYNOPSIS:

Revisit Nancy Haviland’s bestselling mafia series with this prequel novel featuring a Russian mobster who is forced to put vengeance aside in order to please the Pakhan he calls father.

He sees her. He falls. He proves it by killing for her in a room full of his associates.
Now he’ll take her home and try to convince her a love that descends like a hammer is one that can last a lifetime.

She sees him. She stumbles. She proves her sophistication by fainting, then comes to in a Russian mobster’s compound.
Now she’ll protect herself while experiencing all the things she’s been denied her entire life.

**This novel is a prequel to A Love of Vengeance (Wanted Men #1) but can be read as a standalone.**

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Vengeance Aside teaser

EXCERPT

“Your mother must be going crazy,” she muttered, glancing at the door she wouldn’t be using anytime soon.

I’m sorry, Mama, he silently apologized, because he was about to use her absence from his life to his advantage. “If she were here, she would be inconsolable.” The trace of sadness he’d allowed her to hear in his tone did wonders.

“Fuuuck,” his soft-hearted female whispered, looking away. After a moment, she balled her fists up and pressed them into the mattress. “She wouldn’t happen to be out of town, would she?”

“No.” He didn’t have to work at sounding anything but heartbroken when he admitted, “She was taken from us seven years ago by an illness we couldn’t buy a cure for.”

“Double fuck.” Dale’s head fell forward and hung off her neck like a heavy weight. Her nape was mouthwatering. “Do you miss her? Or was she the type you wouldn’t miss?”

Her questions were muffled and quiet, but he heard and answered honestly. “I miss her physical presence in my life every day. But she’s still with me. Or so I like to think.”

She nodded and threw her head back. His chest constricted in a sharp snap when he saw tears shimmering in her eyes. “Super. I’m stuck lusting after a mobster with a fucking conscience. Perfect. Anything else you wanna throw at me? Do you have dogs? Because a dog lover would have me out of this dress lickety-split.” She spun away and slid over to sit on the far corner of the bed. The mattress shook along with her bobbing leg, and little snaps sounded as she cracked each of her knuckles by pressing down on them with her thumbs.

Lukas felt the strangest urge to grin as he fell deeper under her spell. But he also felt a sickness in his gut because he was upsetting her. Those tears. Since when did a woman’s tears affect him? He’d seen too many of them during his time as a serial monogamist. Typically, they were inconvenient and annoying, and he found it too easy to walk away from them.

Not tonight.

Dale’s sniffle had him looking up from her fragile shoulder blades to meet her eyes in the reflection of the mirror above the dresser. He held them as he slipped his holster off and hung his gun over the shoulder of his suit jacket. If her surreptitious glances were any indication, the sight of it on his person was upsetting her.

“I think it would be best if you just took me home.”

He slowly shook his head.

“If I have sex with you first, will you take me home after?”

He couldn’t stop his grin at that hopeful tone. “Once we have sex, you’ll be home.”

Her mouth compressed as fire snapped and crackled in her eyes. She wanted it as badly as he did, but there was something else going on in her head. He could see the battle in the back of her eyes.

“How can you say that? This isn’t the dark ages. You don’t even know me, Lukas.”

He shrugged as he undid the buttons at his wrists and rolled up his sleeves. “I know enough to have made my final decision. Once I do that, there’s no going back.”

She came around to face him. “Seriously?” She laughed. “So, I have no choice here? You like me, and I just have to live with that?”

His gaze skimmed her body. He couldn’t look into her eyes anymore without giving away how far beyond “like” this was. He owned her. Or, rather, she owned him. “This is about something bigger than liking you, Magdalena. I need you. I want you. So, yes, that means your choices are…limited.” Nonexistent.

“How can you need me?”

He tipped his head to the side. “Not going to ask how I can want you?”

“No. That I understand.”

“Because you want me.”

“Yes.”

Win. “And you wouldn’t refuse me if I initiated sex right now.” He bounced his cufflinks in his palm and waited to have his ego stroked.

Those brilliant emeralds took a leisurely trip down his form to top off his hard-on. “No. I wouldn’t. But all this talk about fate and powers that be isn’t happening. If you’re looking for some sort of long-lasting, meaningful relationship, you picked the wrong girl.”

Her honesty was doing nothing more than adding a lubricant that greased his descent so that he fell deeper and faster than ever. “Why is that?”

“Because I don’t do people. They’re just not worth the trouble.”

The lonely words pierced his heart. “I will be,” he promised her, vowing to make it so.

“Doubt it.”

“Don’t.”

“Can’t help it.”

Her expression had darkened, and he could see she was starting to close up, so he pointed his thumb at the door in the corner. “Why don’t you freshen up and I’ll take you out back to see the dogs.”

Her mouth opened to deliver another quick retort, but nothing came out. She stared up at him for a few beats before ducking her head. He had to take a step forward so he wouldn’t miss the reluctant smile that curved her lips. When she tipped her chin up just enough to look at him, her dimple made an appearance. “You really want me out of this dress, huh?” she said quietly. There was a new softness surrounding her that almost sent him to his knees. A natural seductress. Who he would likely have to kill for again because her allure was undeniable, and men were going to respond to it in the coming years. No matter. He would do whatever had to be done to protect his greatest asset.

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ABOUT NANCY HAVILAND

Nancy Haviland is an award-winning, bestselling romance (suspense, erotic, contemporary) author who writes about her possessive alpha males and their obsessively loved women from her home in Southwestern Ontario. Her greatest loves are her family and that ever-present cooling cup of coffee at her elbow.

To stay up-to-date on new releases, click the yellow button above or join her reader list at http://bit.ly/NHNewsletter. To stay in the loop, you can also visit www.nancyhaviland.com!

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THE REBOUND LIST by L. Moone The Undateables, #2 Publication Date: November 4, 2019 Genres:
Hopelessly Devoted Box Set by Gen Ryan Publication Date: October 11, 2019 Genres: Adult, Contemporary,
  Arabella Sheraton grew up on a diet of Jane Austen, the Bronte sisters, and
Ultimate Vengeance by Nancy Haviland Wanted Men, #4 Publication Date: May 31, 2016 Genre: Adult,

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