Semi Short chic: Amber Argyle

Today, I am featuring the first three books in the fabulous Anthology:

Strange and Lovely

Book 1: Huntress

by Amber Argyle

Book Blurb:

Ashley has been given a choice—run from the vampires who will stop at nothing to kill her, or become one of them.

But it doesn’t take Ashley long to figure out there are much darker and deadlier forces at play than mere vampires, and more than just Ashley’s life is at stake. All hell is about to break loose, literally.

Author Bio:

Amber Argyle is the #1 bestselling author of Witch Song and Fairy Queen series. Her books have been nominated for and won awards in addition to being translated into French and Indonesian.

She graduated cum laude from Utah State University with a degree in English and physical education, a husband, and a two-year old. Since then, she and her husband have added two more children, which they are actively trying to transform from crazy small people into less crazy larger people.

To find out more about Amber Argyle, you can visit her blog at amberargyle.blogspot.com

Other Social Media links

https://twitter.com/amberargyle

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Amber-Argyle/165661500156934?ref=hl

www.amberargyle.blogspot.com

http://pinterest.com/amberargyle/

http://www.amazon.com/Amber-Argyle/e/B004YE1BR4/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1

http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4629065.Amber_Argyle

SNIPPET

Word to the wise: Don't read this past your bedtime!

********

Darkness.

Ashley couldn’t remember a time when she’d been in such total and complete darkness. In the city, there was always light. She opened her eyes wider. It didn’t help. Turning into the shower spray, she finished rinsing the rest of the conditioner from her hair. She kept waiting for the lights to come back on. They didn’t. “This company retreat is turning into a disaster,” she mumbled.

“A day in the mountains!” her boss had said. “Enjoying the solitude and colors of fall!”

Instead, Ashley had been stuck in a conference room for ten hours. Turning the water off, she jerked the shower curtain back and felt around for the towel she’d set on top of the toilet. She rubbed the rough terry cloth across her face.

Without the sound of the water, she heard something. Unconsciously pressing the towel against her chest she listened. Were those screams?

She padded off of the cold bathroom tile and onto the carpet of her room, hoping some light would filter in from the open window. It didn’t. She grabbed the first piece of clothing her hand touched, a white button up shirt she’d worn to the meeting today. Without bothering to dry off, she yanked it on and shoved the buttons through the holes, not really caring if she got them right or not. The shirt clung to her wet skin as she hiked a pair of jeans over her damp hips.

Screams were echoing up and down the hall now. Not ‘you just scared me’ kind of screams, but the terrified, ‘please don’t kill’ me kind of screams. Ashley jerked the hotel phone out of its cradle. Dead. She stumbled around, trying to remember where her cell phone was.

“Ashley!” a man’s voice yelled through her door. “We have to get out of here! Ashley!”

Josh. The man she’d been dating under her boss’s nose for months. Ashley ran for the door, but her shin smacked into the dresser. Clutching her leg and mouthing silent curses, she hobbled forward. She froze when something thudded against her door. A mangled scream gurgled to silence. She froze, too terrified to move or breathe.

Book 2:
My Fair Assassin by C. J. Anaya

Book Blurb:

Recently emancipated Crysta doesn't expect a man to break into her house and threaten her life. But how can this handsome assassin kill her when he is clearly meant to love her?

Author Bio:

C. J. Anaya began writing short stories for family and friends when she was thirteen years old. This soon morphed into an extensive project every year during Christmas as a way to create a fun and inexpensive Christmas gift.

Her passion for reading and writing led her to following her own dreams of becoming a published author. She was born in Utah and raised everywhere else. She even lived a few years in Brazil, enjoying the people, the culture and learning the beautiful language of Portuguese; a language she is still fluent in to this day. As a result of her exposure to varying peoples and cultures, her interests became varied as well.

As a mother of four children she is now a singer and a songwriter, a baker and a cake decorator, a dancer and a choreographer, a girl with a degree in Criminal Justice and a first time published author of YA paranormal romance and fantasy. She is also married to the most deliciously, handsome looking Latino. As always, she has plenty to write about.
Social Media Links:

http://www.facebook.com/cjanayaauthor
http://authorcjanaya.com
http://www.twitter.com/CJAnaya21
http://www.amazon.com/author/cjanaya
http://www.goodreads.com/cjanaya

SNIPPET

Having someone tell you they’ve come to end your pathetic existence is probably an uncommon occurrence. I can’t imagine that anyone intent on murder would have the decency to pause long enough to look their victim in the eye, state their mission and purpose, and with very little feeling, explain that the end result of their victim’s death will benefit an entire race.

Then again, what do I know?

There’s always the slim chance that plenty of killers are far more civil seconds before committing such a depraved act, but how would any of us ever be privy to those morbid details when the victims never live to share said details?

I knew I’d never live long enough to share mine.

The well-muscled warrior standing several feet in front of me had made that abundantly clear. I studied him intently, deciding it would be best to memorize every inch of him in case I managed to escape and succeeded in describing my would-be assassin to the local authorities.

Right! My need to drink in his image had absolutely nothing to do with his six-foot frame, broad shoulders, sharp, chiseled features, and flawless, crystal-blue orbs framed by a sturdy brow.

Weren’t murderers supposed to be ugly, unkempt psychos? This guy was a carbon copy of most of the Abercrombie models I lived to drool over. He had an otherworldly look and feel to him, and his clothing appeared to be made out of some kind of forest-green leather. His hands were gloved up to his knuckles, and his skin let off a golden, florescent glow.

I might have attributed his all-too-perfect tan to the San Diego weather, but I doubted other men in the vicinity were capable of making their skin glitter slightly whenever the sun’s rays kissed them. I didn’t think someone as imposing as this guy would have spent time throwing gold body glitter all over himself, but I couldn’t figure out what else he’d done to get his skin to shimmer like that. He looked like a warm summer evening, and smelled like the earth after a spring rain.

His hair was shoulder-length, shiny, and lightning white. Not the kind of graying white you might find on your local senior citizen, but the kind that looks like heaven.

His movements as he studied me and my dingy apartment were stiff and watchful. His expression was that of guarded curiosity, and when my cat, Nala, made a small whining noise from my bedroom down the hall, his stance came to attention and his arm muscles went taut as he withdrew a small dagger from a sheath at his waist.

Honestly, where had this guy come from, and why weren’t we dating?

Oh, yeah. He was here to kill me.

Book 3:
School Spirit by Jennifer Griffith

Book Blurb:

Basketball star Luke stomped all over cheerleader Hailey’s heart, but she still has to cheer for him. When a mysterious hot guy in a loin cloth appears on the basketball court and protects Luke from getting fouled, and nobody else notices or cares, Hailey takes matters into her own hands—and finds she might be having a supernatural encounter with a "school spirit."

Author Bio:

Jennifer Griffith is a wife and a mother of five, and although she’s never seen a ghost, she believes in
them and would love to meet one and ask a lot of questions. She’s the author of seven novels, all romantic comedies.

Author Social Media links:

Facebook: http://facebook.com/AuthorJenniferGriffith

Twitter handle: @GriffithJen

Website: http://AuthorJenniferGriffith.com/

SNIPPET

The other team scored, tying it up with a minute left on the clock. Hailey jogged back to her spot in the cheer line just as the announcer called, “Back in the game at center, number fifteen, Luke Landau. He takes a hit and keeps on ticking. This guy is a Timex. He’s the Energizer Bunny.” The announcer went on to praise Luke, who waved to the crowd. He did have charisma, blast him.

Luke lined up at the tipoff, standing a full six inches over the other team’s center, who sneered at Luke’s charm. Hailey found herself holding her breath. The next minute of play meant a seed in the championship tournament—or not. Hailey wasn’t just a cheerleader; she was a diehard fan—which was why she tried out for cheer: she couldn’t bear to miss the away games, and her parents would never let her drive that far at night alone to watch them. Riding the cheer bus was the surest ticket. So cheer she must.

Even for Luke. Heart stomper.

Luke out-jumped the shorter guy for the tipoff, and the ball sailed toward the Tigers’ goal. The crowd surged to their feet as the clock ticked down, the hundredths of a second displaying now.

Hailey’s eyes normally stayed on the ball, but something odd caught her eye as they started the “Be Aggressive” cheer. Her voice trailed off. Some kind of dark shadow crossed the half court line, heading back toward the opponents’ basket. Hailey stopped slamming her poms together. She couldn’t hear the crowd or the announcer or the squeak of shoes on the wood; it all faded as she stared at the shadow—and as the shadow took shape.

On the court there was a dark-haired young man. Barefoot. In a loin cloth.