Conner
The
Athol Trilogy
Book
1
Miranda
Stork
Genre:
Paranormal
Publisher:
Isara Press
Date
of Publication: April 19th, 2012
ISBN:
978-1482795585
ASIN:
B007VZO792
Number
of pages: 297
Word
Count: 80,924
Cover
Artist: Miranda Stork
Book
Description:
Erin
is a young psychologist, with no time for anything but her work, and
unable to remember anything about her past. She leads an uneventful
life, but a lonely one, in which she secretly wishes for a
soulmate...
Conner
is an unusual patient who approaches her, thrusting her into a
strange world of darkness that runs beneath our own. He believes
himself to be a creature of legend-a werewolf. But he also draws Erin
with a roguish charm, and an irresistible feeling that seems to bind
them together...
Conner
desperately tries to save her from an unknown evil that pursues her
with a relentless passion that crosses centuries, an evil that once
took her very soul away, somewhere in Erin's lost memories.
As
she becomes more entwined in a series of events that will remind her
of who she really is, will she make it away from the oncoming
darkness unscathed...?
Reviewers
Love Conner
"5
stars! One of the best novels I have read all year!" --Nicole
Hill, Author of Legacy Forgotten, 5 Stars
"You
are hooked whether you like it or not! A great read." --Maxi
Shelton, Author of Sold Into Marriage, 5 Stars
"'Conner'
took me on a wild, fantastic and exciting ride!" --Trish Marie
Dawson, Author of 'The Station' Series, 5 Stars
"Conner
is a must read for all werewolf fans. It has a fresh spin on wolves,
and I thought it was great." --Fictional Candy, 4 Stars
Excerpt:
Erin
tossed and turned. Her bed sheets were tussled up, one pillow lying
on the floor as she shifted her limbs in anguish. She was not
sleeping well tonight.
...Something
raced towards her, crashing through the branches and leaves. She was
sobbing and running as fast as she could, but she was cold and wet,
and her feet were cut and bleeding. Her clothes hung off her, soaked
until they became dead weights.
A
small clearing lit with brilliant sunshine danced in front of her,
teasing her with the sight. She ran towards it, trying to scream for
help, but her mouth was full of cotton wool, and no sound came out.
Behind
her, the breathing and snarling became louder and louder until it
filled and echoed in her ears. Frantic, she looked around for
somewhere to hide, but all she could see were trees—no, wait! There
was a small hut!
Crying
with happiness, Erin sprinted towards it, but she was knocked flying
by something large and dark.
She
turned to stare, and backed away in panic. An eight-foot black
creature with burning amber eyes glared at her.
“You
must never go inside! NEVER!”
Erin
shot bolt upright, cold sweat dripping from her forehead and running
into her eyes. She took a deep breath shakily, and snapped her
bedside light on, the reassuring light flooding her bedroom.
“Oh,
Erin,” she murmured to herself, wiping the sweat from her brow with
a shaking hand. Glancing around her warm, safe bedroom, she relaxed
and breathed in deeply. She felt stupid for taking in Conner’s
stories so much. She glanced over at the clock and groaned at the
early hour.
Still
trembling, she slid out of bed and reached for her pink silk dressing
gown. She pulled it on with a wide yawn, shaking her head to wake
herself up before making her way downstairs. Her wool carpet felt
rough and very real beneath her bare feet, the perfect antidote to
help bring her back into the real world. Traipsing through the silent
house, she pattered through into her kitchen.
Snapping
the fluorescent above on, Erin waited as its humming light came to
life, allowing her to see the small kitchen, blinking at the
brightness. Its tiled floors and white walls stung her sleep-deprived
eyes for a moment, but Erin shuffled across the tiles to open one of
her maple cupboard doors, feeling her way around the kitchen table in
the centre. The door squeaked in protest on its hinges as she reached
inside to take out a glass. Her eyelids heavy, she paced over to her
kitchen sink, and ran water into the glass. The cool water filled up
with a gurgle that only made her thirstier.
A
quick movement in the shadows outside of her kitchen window caught
her eye, and she darted her head up for a look, scanning the
blackness of her small garden. Her heart thudded into life, hammering
against her ribs in a warning staccato. Squinting harder, she leaned
against the glass, her breath steaming the reflective surface up.
Nothing moved, not even a wind danced across the stalks of grass
outside.
“It
must have been a cat or something,” Erin muttered to herself. She
turned away from the window, scooping up her glass once more to take
a sip, when she thought she heard a thump from outside again. It was
quiet, so quiet she wondered if it had simply been the pipes all
along. Her skin prickled as she listened intently, so intently that
the next thump against her kitchen wall brought a sharp gasp from
her.
“Alright,
what the hell is that?” Erin said aloud, more bravely than she
felt. She slammed her glass down on her kitchen table, the clanging
noise serving only to heighten the tension. Stories about women who
lived alone and ended up as a victim raced through her brain. Shaking
those thoughts from her head, she slowly made her way towards the
back door. Her head ached with the pressure of her pulse against her
temples as she took a deep breath and unlocked her back door,
flinging it wide open. As she gazed out, her eyes adjusting to the
meagre light from behind, her throat dried with panic. She didn’t
expect to see anything. Maybe teenagers messing around. But
not this.
Standing
less than six feet away from her door was a large, black wolf-like
creature. It stood on four paws, but two glaring eyes focussed on
Erin, very human and aware. It rose up slowly onto its back feet as
it continued to stare at Erin, daring her to defy it standing there
and dismiss it as shadows.
Erin
froze for a second, the blood draining from her body in an icy rush.
The wind blew between her and the creature chillingly, echoing the
dream-like state she felt. Her tongue was dry and swollen—even if
she had tried to call for help, her throat would never have formed
the words. The creature moved a fraction forwards, and her sense of
self-preservation snapped back into life as she moved, swiftly
slamming the door shut. She fumbled hurriedly with her lock, and
stepped backwards towards the hallway, switching the fluorescent off
by accident as her hand slid along the wall. She tripped over a chair
leg, unable to see in the dark, and cried out as she hit the hard
floor.
Shaking
and winded, she crawled backwards to the hallway, hitting the far
kitchen wall instead. Sobbing noiselessly, she reached up onto the
top next to her. She moved her fingers gingerly until she touched one
of her kitchen knives, left on the top from when she had made her
dinner. There
is no way on Earth this is real. I’m still in my nightmare. I’m
still in my nightmare. I’m going to wake up in a moment. Clutching
the knife to her chest, she swallowed back a cry, glancing back
towards the kitchen window. What
if there are more of them?
Outside,
she heard the creature breathing heavily, snarling and snuffling at
her doorstep. Erin yanked her knees up until she was in a foetal
position, tirelessly glancing between the door and the uncovered
window. Hours passed, until eventually she heard the creature
padding off, her head swimming with fatigue. Erin stayed up for what
felt like hours, listening for the creature coming back, eventually
falling into an uneasy sleep.
About
the Author:
I'm
Miranda Stork, and I'm addicted. Addicted to writing and reading
books, anyway. And chocolate, but that's another issue - no
interventions, please.
I
live in the middle of a forest in North Yorkshire, spending my spare
time as the wild woman of the woods, scaring small children and
upsetting the sheep. On the days that I feel like being civilized, or
I haven't got any unicorns to ride, I sit down and pour the tumbling
thoughts in my head out onto digital paper. Mainly the thoughts and
characters come out in paranormal form, with a good smattering of
romance, because everyone likes a good cuddle. But you can also find
strong elements of thrillers, myths, and even dystopia amongst the
pages of all my novels. I've wanted to write books ever since I first
realised that fairytales were not the newspapers of the fairy
kingdom, but the imaginings of actual people who wanted to tell fancy
made-up stories to other people. From that moment, I was hooked.
Why
do I write? Good question. It might be easier to just keep the
stories in my head, or even just to write them for myself. But I want
to share them. There is no greater delight for a writer than when a
reader devours your book, and declares, "Something in that novel
resonated with me. And I want MORE." So grab your lucky clover
and a baseball bat (there's some nasty paranormal creatures where
we're going), eat the cookie with 'eat me' tagged on it, and enter
through the tiny door into the world of Miranda Stork...
Tour giveaway 5 audiobooks, to be downloaded from Audible.co.uk or Audible.com (winner will be given a coupon with the necessary code for downloading a free copy).
a Rafflecopter giveaway
No comments:
Post a Comment