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Touch of Evil by Cecy Robson-Review

Touch of Evil: A Weird Girls Novel (Weird Girls Touch Book 1)

 

“There is something about Cecy’s writing that grips me and holds me to the page…I’m so in love with these sisters and characters. I can’t wait for more books!” – My World in Words and Pages

The award-winning Weird Girls urban fantasy romance series continues to blow away modern fantasy and adventure fans with heart-stopping action and romance. Centered around four unique and powerful sisters, it’s time for Emme Wird, the youngest sister, to step into the supernatural spotlight.

Emme Wird, the healer and powerful telekinetic in the Wird family, hasn’t had the best of luck with males. While her sisters have found their mates and forever loves, Emme has found males that are better left as lost. Is a decent meal with polite conversation too much to ask for? Yes, it is.

When a pack member that Emme has dinner with is discovered dead and dismembered, it is up to Emme and her werewolf friend, Bren, to solve the murder. But spine-tingling danger and touches with evil have ways of bringing close friends closer.

Could the male that Emme searches for be right in front of her? Or will evil snatch him away from her, just as it did once before?

 

I was given a copy of this book by Netgalley for an honest review.

This is Emma and Bren’s story. Emma wants her love ever after, just like her Sisters have. Only one problem. She seems to pick the wrong guys to go out with, (aka. jerks and assholes). Bren and Emma have been  friends since he joined the pack. She really likes him, but she doesn’t  think it would go anywhere  beyond friendship.  After her disaster of a  night with her current date, she has to throw him out of a window, she goes to the bar where Bren works. She gets a feeling that something or someone  is following or stalking her. She feels that her stalker is pure evil. When she gets to the bar she sits at the bar.

She engages Bren in conversation and is caught off guard when he unexpectedly  gives her a mind mind blowing  kiss. Thier kis is inevitably  interrupted when a pack member informs Bren that a pack member has been killed, dismembered and eaten on. Bren and Emma go to the scene to check it out. The body happens to be Emma’s asshole of a date. He is definitely has Ben dismembered and parts eaten on. Now Drwn and Emma must solve this grisly  murder, before one of them becomes the next meal. Oh, and try to figure out what Bren’s kiss means, and if there is more to come. I really enjoyed this story.  I give Touck of Evil 5/5 stars.

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A CURSED MOON – Cover Reveal

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A CURSED MOON

by Cecy Robson
Weird Girls, #2.5
Publication Date: January 30, 2019
Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy, Romance

A CURSED MOON cover

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A CURSED MOON small cover

SYNOPSIS

Meet the furry big brother that the Wird sisters never had…

Bren is a cocky, brash hound of a werewolf who loathes the idea of belonging to Aric’s pack—much less finding a mate. But Bren’s hotheaded behavior lands him in the doghouse when he defies Aric’s authority in front of his pack, bringing up a sore subject that’s bound to make the Alpha wolf’s blood boil…

Luckily for him, no one can stay mad at Bren and his wild charm for long. And when some frightening ghosts launch a hostile paranormal takeover, Bren will team up with Celia to take down the evil ghouls before they hurt someone they both love…

A CURSED MOON teaser

EXCLUSIVE REVEAL EXCERPT

“Damn it, Bren—wake up!”

“Hmmph?” Someone with a death wish was shaking me. You don’t disturb a werewolf’s sleep; that’s just common fucking sense. The breeze shot through the cracked opened window, bringing a strong whiff of Tahoe’s magic. I grinned and inhaled. That shit was better than witch ganja, and it lulled me back to sleep.

But then Dan flipped on the leg lamp on my nightstand and opened his yap again. “Wake up, I mean it.”

“Grrrrr.”

“You can take that werewolf shit and shove it up your ass.”

That made me chuckle into my pillow. Dan swearing was damn funnier than Elmo dropping the “F” bomb. He shook me again, this time harder. I flipped over and tried to get comfortable.

“For crying out loud, put some pants on! I don’t need to see your . . . stuff.”

“It’s my goddamn room. I can sleep naked if I want. And what the hell do you mean by ‘stuff’? What are you, ten?”

Dan ignored me. “Bren, your stupid one-night stand stole all our food, our DVDs, and our laundry detergent.”

I half-opened one eye. “Wendy wouldn’t do anything like that.”

“Her name was Natasha.”

“You sure?”

“That’s the name she wrote all over my bathroom with her lipstick.”

I sat abruptly, suddenly panicked. “She didn’t take my porn, did she?”

Dan’s jaw slacked. “Is that all you care about, that she took your porn?”

“No. For shit’s sake I’m hungrier than hell. How are you going to fix me breakfast without any food?”

Dan threw his hands in the air, in that same exaggerated way he always did when I pushed him to his breaking point. He kicked my dirty clothes on the floor and paced like an expectant dad. “You have the audacity to think I’d actually cook you breakfast—after what your one-nighter did?”

I scratched my beard. Damn, I needed a trim. “Well, yeah. It’s your job around here, you’re the woman. You’re supposed to cook, clean, and pay most of the bills. My job is to keep your ass safe from humans, vamps, weres, witches, little old ladies, and pretty much anything else you’re afraid of. It’s part of our deal, along with me getting you laid.”

Dan stomped to the side of my bed, stumbling over a pair of my old jeans. “First of all, it was just that one little old lady. I may be human, but I’m pretty sure she was some kind of spirit―especially given the amount of supernatural activity around here lately. Secondly, I don’t need help getting laid.”

I stared at my beanpole roommate. His messy curly hair hung over his thick black-framed glasses, and he tripped over air on a regular basis. Jesus. There were Girl Scouts more muscular and agile than him. “Yes, you do, Dan.”

“I’ve gotten laid a lot lately, all without your help.”

“Ugly girls don’t count, man.”

“Celia’s not ugly.”

I laughed and yanked at my overgrown hair. Damn, I needed a cut, too. But unlike Dan, I did grunge well. “Celia was more than eight years ago.” I chuckled again. Talk about a mercy lay.

He narrowed his eyes. “What’s so funny?”

“I still can’t believe you were her first. How’d you talk her into it? Did you promise to tutor her in chemistry or something?”

Dan’s entire face reddened, making him look more like a tomato than a walking piece of broccoli. “Whatever, Bren. I’ll prove to you I can get laid.”

“Sure, sure, you can get laid. Don’t get your thong in a bunch.”

Dan stamped his foot. Shit, I only thought girls did that.

“I mean it, Bren. I have to work late at the lab tonight, but I’ll meet you at eleven at the Watering Hole. I’m going to get a girl so hot your head will spin.”

I yawned. “Sure you will, buddy.”

“Fine. If you don’t believe me, how about we bet on it?”

“Dan, you don’t want to bet me on something like that. You’ll only lose and embarrass yourself.”

“You’re just afraid. I thought you were a wolf, not a chicken.”

My brows furrowed and I snarled. “Did you just call me a chicken?” This time it was Dan’s turn to laugh. I could be pretty damn intimidating, but he knew I’d never hurt him. He was a mothering pain in the ass, but also the best friend I’d ever had.

“You heard me, clucky.”

A slow grin eased across my face. “All right then, name the terms.”

“The loser has to clean and cook for the rest of the year . . .”

“Is that the best you can come up with? Oooh, I’m real scared now.”

“. . . wearing a French maid outfit, regardless of who’s in the apartment.”

My grin widened. The little turd had some balls after all. “You’re on.” I held out my hand. He refused to shake it until after I showered.

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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:

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Newsletter | Bookbub | Goodreads | Amazon Author Profile

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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

THE WEIRD GIRLS cover

AVAILABLE NOW! FIRST TIME IN PRINT!

THE WEIRD GIRLS small cover

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:

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Newsletter | Bookbub | Goodreads | Amazon Author Profile

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A Curse Awakened – Cover Reveal

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A Curse Awakened

by Cecy Robson
Weird Girls, #0.4
Re-release Publication Date: November 28, 2018
Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy, Romance, Standalone

A Curse Awakened cover

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A Curse Awakened cover

SYNOPSIS:

Discover Cecy Robson’s sensational Weird Girls series—or return to where the magic first began—with this eBook original prequel novella about four sisters coming to grips with their unique supernatural powers.

Celia Wird shouldn’t possess the ability to transform into a tigress. Her three sisters should never be able to burst into flames, heal wounds, or transform common objects into deadly weapons. And yet they do.

Before they were born, the Wird Sisters were cursed by a spell that was intended to destroy them, not endow them with extraordinary powers. The sisters’ magic is untamed and explosive at best, and time is running out for them to take command.

Vampires have targeted Celia’s sweet, tragically human ex-boyfriend Danny. The sisters rush to his aid, but in order to take down the vamps, first they must face their dark past and break a spell that’s screwing up their powers. Except this curse wasn’t meant to be broken . . . and the witch who cast it isn’t done toying with them yet.

A Curse Awakened teaser 1

EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT

Danny shook his head. “No. He mistook them for Mafia, but I think at best they’re vamps with Mafia ties. There’s this female among them that seems fixated on my father. I think she’s been drinking from him. It’s odd. She’s odd. The whole thing is . . . odd.”

Shayna grimaced. “You mean aside from her drinking blood?”

Danny tried to stand. “Yeah. I don’t know if vampires can be mentally ill. From what I’ve researched so far, they’re immune to diseases. But nothing I’ve read mentions anything about being immune to insanity.”

I steadied him with my hand. “Why have you been reading up on vamps? I mean, I know since you’ve learned about us, you’ve been curious, but . . . I’m not a vampire.”

He sighed, watching me with his dark sad eyes. “Believe it or not, I thought I could help you. You and your sisters have something special.”

“Ah, no, we don’t.” Taran glared his way. “At best we’re atom bombs ready to detonate.” As if to make a point, a puff of blue and white smoke from her fire popped and sizzled above her head.

Danny returned the glasses to his face. “I don’t agree. There’re not a lot of books available here in the U.S. about the supernatural―the real kind, I mean―weres, witches, vamps, those types of beings. But I’ve purchased a few ancient volumes from old libraries in Europe, where most legends stem from actual truths. I haven’t been able to find much about what you are or what you could be. In fact, I’m positive you’re different from any race of humans or preternaturals on earth.”

“Yay for us,” Taran muttered.

Danny offered a sympathetic smile. “One thing I have learned a great deal about are curses and magic in general.” His gaze skipped to each one of us. “I think you’re all in a bind.”

“No shit,” Taran snapped. “I’m surprised we haven’t killed each other.”

Danny held out a hand. “No, that’s not what I mean. I think you’ve been bound―in the magical sense. Sort of like a noose or tie that holds your powers back, and therefore your control.” He focused on me. “Celia, I think you can manage your powers best because your tigress gives you added strength. Picture a pit bull on a leash. You’re going to pull harder against it than another, smaller breed, making it harder to hold you back.”

Shayna inched forward. “Um, Danny, maybe you should watch the dog references. I understand what you’re trying to say, but Taran’s a little touchier.” She motioned to Taran with a jerk of her head. “Know what I mean, little guy?”

Taran narrowed her eyes, proving Shayna’s point.

Danny’s mouth popped open. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to insult you, ladies.”

I barely heard his apologies, my ears homing in on the rumble of motors. Two cars entered the dead-end street leading to the field and to us. The roar of their engines didn’t sound familiar or appropriate for the area. We were in blue-collar territory and these vehicles were definitely not your standard beaters. And instead of slowing down when they entered the narrow street, they sped faster, like cheetahs who’d found a herd of wounded gazelles.

My tigress growled a warning. Taran’s blue eyes blanched to white, her magic sensing another’s approach.

Danny jerked around upon seeing the first car barrel up the small incline. “It’s the vampires. Run!”

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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:

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Newsletter | Bookbub | Goodreads | Amazon Author Profile

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GONE HUNTING – Cover Reveal

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GONE HUNTING

by Cecy Robson
Weird Girls, #0.3
Publication Date: October 24, 2018
Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy, Romance, Standalone, Prequel

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SYNOPSIS:

Discover Cecy Robson’s sensational Weird Girls series for the first time—or go back to the beginning …

The rest of the werewolf pack might consider Aric Connor to be omniscient and destined to save the world when evil returns to claim it. But for the most part, fifteen-year-old Aric ignores the confirmations of his powers, taking everything in stride until he meets her.

Celia Wird wasn’t supposed to awaken naked in the mountains of Colorado, not when she was just stalking her prey in a filthy alley several states away. She especially wasn’t supposed to meet Aric, the handsome werewolf who comes to her aid.

As a supernatural tasked with protecting the earth, Aric sympathizes with Celia’s dangerous situation. He’s also struck by her beauty and kindness. Yet, as much as Aric welcomes Celia, her arrival isn’t a peaceful one.

Dark forces stir in Celia’s presence, resolute on killing her. Aric and his inner beast are adamant about keeping Celia safe and with them. But there’s a time and a place for love, and Aric and Celia might not survive long enough to find it.

*NOTE* Gone Hunting is a prequel to the Weird Girls urban fantasy series. It can be read as a standalone.

GONE HUNTING teaser

EXCERPT FROM GONE HUNTING

I glide down the steep incline on four paws, digging my claws into the thick forest bed to keep my balance, the weight of my three-hundred-pound wolf form leaving deep indentations in the soil. There wasn’t just one elk. There was a massive herd. We separated them as a pack, targeting the eldest and weakest as nature demands.

The one I’m chasing stumbles down the ravine, his immense body crashing into the river bank and sending waves of muddy water to drench my face. I shake off the thick drops blinding me and hurtle forward. I’m almost to him, my excitement of snapping his neck and bringing home a feast propelling me faster.

I bare my teeth at the scent of his fear. Despite his weariness, he’s fighting the kill. I can respect him as my prey. That doesn’t mean I’ll let him go. My supernatural strength jets me faster, ghosting over the slippery rocks when the elk stumbles. He recovers quickly on wobbly limbs. It doesn’t matter. I have him. My family and I will have a sweet meal tonight.

We round the bend as I leap toward his neck. My fangs barely graze his tough pelt before I crash into what feels like an invisible wall. The force flings me backward, slamming me into the river bed. I whirl up, wondering what happened and pissed that it did.

The sound of beating hooves grows distant as the elk disappears. I ignore his escape and growl with murderous rage.

Something’s here. Something different. Something magical.

My paws keep my footing over the uneven and rocky bank as I stalk forward. I poke at the air with my nose, trying to sense the wall I’d slammed into or whatever it was that caused my fall.

My nose twitches, latching onto something . . . weird. It’s not elk, not deer, not even rabbit.

I smell predator.

A challenging growl rumbles through my torso and down my legs, causing a ripple across the water. My eyes sweep my surroundings, up the incline where the woods are at their thickest and back down where small, gentle waves splash over the river rocks.

Where are you? I growl again.

I angle my body to the left and frown. Something like rot permeates from the forest. It reeks of dead prey and danger, but then it moves further away from me and the predator I seek.

My eyes round with surprise when I hone in on a different scent. In the breeze, cascading along the bank, the fragrance of water misting over roses overtakes the aroma of pine, rich soil, and thick beds of moss, ensnaring me in its beauty.

An excited chill runs down my spine, standing my fur on end. I shake my head, trying to clear a scent that has no business latched to another predator . . . especially one warning me to keep my distance.

My ears perk up and my eyes hone onto a thick mound of blackberry brambles a few feet away.

There you are . . .

I prowl forward, my steps quiet and purposeful and my jaws set to sink into bone.

This isn’t a cougar. They run from us.

This is hungry.

Dangerous.

Weird.

My body quivers with growing excitement and my thunderous growls echo up toward the savage terrain. I snap my jaws in challenge, letting my prey know I sense him.

It’s time to flee or fight. The choice is his. I’m not going anywhere.

The brush shifts. Slowly, very slowly, my prey rises. My lips peel back, yet the next growl dissipates before it can fully form.

Instead of fur, wavy brown hair with streaks of gold catch the faint sunlight, spilling over slender shoulders and flawless olive skin. Droplets of river water streak from her scalp, trickling around large green eyes and full pink lips.

I stop breathing.

She’s young.

My age.

And she’s naked.

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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.

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