First, a bit about Tracey:
I am a country-twang gal from the bluegrass state. Kentucky is a hot bed of horses, cave systems, and whiskey. And I love all three. With my pugs and bossy kitty cat, I spend my days writing and working social media. I write with the help of the voices pushing me to create worlds for them to live in. Fantasy Romance, Contemporary Romance, and eventually some cowboys (because cowboys live in a group all their own, yummmm)… These are the genres that I love best. Oil paints, crafts, dealing with Multiple Sclerosis, and writing into the dead of night… this I my life!!!
Now, for a peek at Shocking Finds:
An act of rebellion, Marin doesn't think that running into the new store in town will hurt anything. Her aunt will never know... right? One car wreck later, her aunt is hospitalized, Marin is forced to spend her twenty-first birthday fighting for her life, and magic - the very thing her aunt has always sworn to be for fools - is real. And so is the irresistible Fae dedicated to Marin's protection.
Kyland has searched Earth-side and all the other realms, looking for a missing Fae child. A child his Queen prophesied would be able to one day save the Fae people from the Danshue, as the evil Fae threat tries to overwhelm the entire Supernatural Community. A child that would know nothing of her blocked gifts, or her Fae heritage waiting to be claimed. A child that has grown into a curvy, delicious morsel he would love to taste
Together Marin and Kyland will fight Fae assassins, overcome betrayals, and if they're lucky ... they will find the Danshue responsible for their plight. That's if Marin doesn't shock him to death with her erratic new gift, and her out of control emotions.
Ready to Sample? Here you go:
Excerpt: (from chapter two Shocking Finds)
Marin needed answers. Like why had they been targeted? The parking lot hadn’t exactly been lacking for vehicular violence victim contenders. There had been a group of at least four women, standing by their cars, chatting. If there was a target more deserving of vehicular rage, it had definitely been that group of women. They had finished shopping, and courtesy demanded that their parking spots were to be relinquished as soon as possible. Why not them?
The man—and Marin was only guessing that the driver was a man—had bypassed those without parking lot etiquette and zeroed in on Lindal. If she had continued her slow progress through the parking lot, would Marin be in this horrible room with its beeping monitors and bleached air instead of Lindal.
Staring down at her aunt’s unmoving form, Marin tried to find a place to rest her hand. She needed to touch her. She needed to know that the only person willing to take her in, after the death of her mother, was really here and still alive.
“They will find him, Lindal. He won't get away with this,” Marin made her vow as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb Lindal's recovery.
Glancing up to keep tears from falling from her eyes, Marin noticed something swinging off of Lindal's oxygen line. “What the...” It looked like a Barbie doll with wings, perhaps six inches tall. The odd little creature wore a loin cloth and sported some overly obvious male attributes. Was it wrong to be checking out the abs of someone no larger than a child’s toy?
His arms tugged and his muscles bunched as he attempted to make a knot in Lindal's oxygen line. His silver skin tone went beautifully with his tri-colored wings— a mix of light purple, maroon, and gold. The little man didn't seem to realize that Marin was staring at him.
“Stop,” Marin shouted. Dammit, this was a hospital. She needed to lower her voice. She also needed to go upstairs to the psych ward. Head trauma, shock, or hallucinations...something wasn’t right. If she told Lindal about this, her aunt would call her every kind of fool.
Hallucination or not, she grabbed the little man by the wings, pulled him from Lindal’s oxygen line, and tried to speak more calmly. “What do you think you’re doing?”
She finally had her figment’s attention. A striking, though small, pair of lavender eyes glared at her through overly long sandy brown bangs. On closer inspection, she could see that his hair was actually multicolored. It seemed to go from crystal white sand to bronzed gold.
“Well, answer me. What do you think you're doing?”
“Waiting for you, of course.”
“What are you?” She was losing it. The buzzing in her temples was increasing. And she was now speaking to a figment of her imagination. Yep, she needed to be medicated.
The creature put its tiny fists on narrow hips. “A Sprite, of course. Don't you know anything? I have my work cut out for me.” Now she was being insulted by her imagination. Great.
“Nope. Too Much,” Marin said and tossed the little man with wings out of the hospital window. She needed coffee. Either that or a large dose of Thorazine. Maybe both.
Where to Find Tracey and her books:
Author Page (Main)
Goodreads Author Page
Facebook Author Page
Barnes & Noble