Struggling barista Constance Flynn is barely hanging on: she's up to her eyeballs in debt, her mother is dying, and she just lost her pet rabbit. But she keeps the promise she made to her best friend, Lexie, for a shopping trip. For the cost of a cup of coffee, she buys the pretty wooden box she can't take her eyes off of.
Inside the box is a dazzling bracelet with colorful gemstones. Once on, it won't come off. She doesn't think anything of it until Lexie is stolen. The mysterious kidnapper wants only one thing in return – Constance, the stone mage.
Genre: FICTION / Fantasy / ParanormalAs a new author, I haven't hit any of the big lists yet but my preliminary sales on Amazon (where I'm exclusively published in Kindle Unlimited) have been promising. During a big promotion push where this book was free, my ranking in the overall Kindle Free Store topped out at #129, #10 under 'Romance -> Paranormal -> Witches & Wizards', and #13 under 'Teen and Young Adult'.
Welcome to Hell,” a warm, masculine, and slightly husky voice said with a sarcastic, cynical amusement. “Tell me, what'd a human do to end up here instead of the meat locker?” Though it was faint, my ears picked up a hint of a British accent.
At the sound of that voice, I cracked my eyes open to take in my surroundings. Even before I opened my eyes, the first thing to hit my senses was the overpoweringly fetid smell of sweat, rot, urine, and feces. Grimacing, I looked around at the rough stone walls and dirt floor strewn with moldy straw. At the top of the vaulted brick ceiling was a fist-sized glowing orb that lit the space. Thick iron bars trapped me in the disgusting cell with a man who looked almost equally filthy.
He had a matted mess of dishwater blond hair. A thick beard that extended down to his mid-neck from a square, stubborn jawline. Bruises along his boxer's nose and high cheekbones said he'd been in a fight recently.
He wore only a ripped pair of canvas pants held onto his lean hips by a drawstring. No shoes covered his callused feet and he wore no shirt over his grubby chest. He was a well-built man with thick, defined muscles that roped over his sculpted body. Marking that gorgeous chest, he had two tattoos: a gecko that appeared to be crawling along his hip bone and a crimson pentacle over his heart. On his right forearm, he had an English longsword that extended from the hilt at his wrist to the tip at his elbow.
I drew myself up to sit against the wall next to me, which made my cracked ribs explode with pain. To keep from screaming, I drew in a deep breath and immediately wished I hadn't. “Where am I?”
“The pits,” he answered, giving me an assessing once-over. I could only imagine how pathetic I must look: wearing bloody, mismatched polar wear, my cheeks and lips chapped from the arctic air, and my hair knotted from the winds.
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Italian
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Already translated.
Translated by ES TRADUZIONI and Eugenia Franzoni
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Author review: ES Traduzioni and Eugenia Franzoni have both positively excelled in the quality of their translations. They've never missed a deadline and are so nice to talk to that even a recluse like myself can be at ease. They're both skilled fiction marketers and are happy to work with you, the author, to make the book as successful as possible. They were initially recommended to me by a friend, and now I recommend them to you! |
