Title: Of Flame and Light
Author: Cecy Robson
Genre: Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy
Series: Weird Girls (#7)
publication: October 18th 2016
Book Length: 350 (kindle)
Publisher: Cecy Robson, LLC
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Taran Wird holds the unique ability to conjure fire and
lightning. She is mated to Gemini, Second in
Command to the Squaw Valley Pack of the Lake
Tahoe Region, and the sole werewolf to possess the
ability to split into two wolves. And although they are
mates, Taran's insecurities have driven them apart.
Devastated by an injury that left her with a
zombie-like limb, Taran struggles to regain command
over her magic. But when her arm and her power turn
against her, lashing out on those she most loves, she
knows she can no longer carry this burden alone. Not
that she likes the alternative.
The only way to regain control of her magic is to align
and learn from the local coven of witches―the very
ones who sought to banish her when she and her
three unique sisters first moved to the mystical
region. But although Taran is trying, the teachings
don't come easy, and the tasks leave her weak and
emotionally shattered.
Yet Taran must learn and learn fast. Time is running
out. The fire she once mastered so easily has
become her greatest adversary and is now slowly
burning her alive
Okay a few things I
love Cecy Robson’s books and I cannot
believe I missed this wonderful series. I
have read her other
series both the Shattered Past series and
the O'Brien Family.
And I am a huge paranormal romance fan. I have to say this
is the first book in the series I have read. But saying all that it
will not be
the last. I would like to make a suggestion that if
this book peeks your
interest don’t just get this one get all the
books in the series. I know I plan
to. I have to figure out
a few things I was a little clueless on. Coming in the
middle
of a series can do that.
Now this book mad me feel so sad a few time
that it brought
me to tears. So have those tissues handy. This starts with
Taran and he ass of a mate Gemini. Man does he ever tick
me off. But I do know
that not all mates live in bliss they
have their ups and downs too. I just hope
he grows up, and
learns to be the mate Taran needs. the man key would be
they
need to talk to each other, communication is the key.
But if they don’t talk he
may very well end up losing her.
She has so much she is dealing with powers
that may kill her
and having to set her pride aside for help from the last
people she wants to go to. She has has this misguided need
to to put on a
though front when what she needs to do is ask
for her sisters help. Just will
she learn in time they are strong
enough now to help her. Now I am going to
read the other
book while I wait for the next.
Now before I ruin
this for you I will leave off here. I hope you
enjoy this book as much as
I did. If you do like this book,
please consider leaving a review. The Authors
really like it
when you do; they value your opinions too.
Son of a bitch.
I groan as I roll onto my back. I’d like to say this is the first time I’ve been knocked
unconscious. I’d also like to say my boobs are the same size, but hey, such is my life.
Dirt. All I sense is that and dank heaviness that accompanies a . . . cave? Through the fog
taking up residency along my brain, I make out a dim glow. It takes me a moment to realize it’s
coming from my light-saber arm. I push up on my hands, grimacing when my fingers sink into
the soil. Yet it’s what I see when I glance up that has me scrambling to my feet.
A lonely hand scuttles by me, chasing after a rat. Oh, but it gets better. I press my back
against a dirt wall as a foot hops by, chasing after the hand, that’s chasing after the rat, with a
decapitated head rolling —I shit you not—merrily behind them.
It’s like some kind of fucked up nursery rhyme. I don’t want to know the next verse,
especially not with the collection of zombies gathering from all sides. These are different from
the ones who pulled us onto shore. Their grisly faces are more emaciated and their bodies are in
a more advance stage of decomposing. As they shuffle toward me, pieces of their skin fall in
small moist clumps.
I hold out my hand. “Stay back.”
They collectively moan.
And move closer.
I grit my teeth, summoning that spark from deep in my core. The dank air seems to
enclose around me, giving me a chill and snuffing out my inner heat.
Shit, shit, shit.
On wobbly legs, I slide my back against the dirt wall, my hands out. The zombies gather
closer, cocking their heads, their empty sockets mesmerized by the glow of my arm. At first, I
think they’re simply curious. But then their short thick tongues push forward, appearing to lick
what’s left of their lips.
I jump when another hand scrambles by, its pinky brushing against my foot. My back
presses against the dirt wall as I slide against it. I’m not sure where to go. I only know I can’t
stay here.
I bang my fists against the wall, trying to stimulate my fire. My left hand doesn’t react,
tensing uselessly. But that spark I so need triggers from my right arm, igniting flames along the
path of my blue veins only to putter out.
Come on, light.
Weird Girls
(7 books)
by
Cecy Robson (Goodreads
Son of a bitch.
I groan as I roll onto my back. I’d like to say this is the first time I’ve been knocked
unconscious. I’d also like to say my boobs are the same size, but hey, such is my life.
Dirt. All I sense is that and dank heaviness that accompanies a . . . cave? Through the fog
taking up residency along my brain, I make out a dim glow. It takes me a moment to realize it’s
coming from my light-saber arm. I push up on my hands, grimacing when my fingers sink into
the soil. Yet it’s what I see when I glance up that has me scrambling to my feet.
A lonely hand scuttles by me, chasing after a rat. Oh, but it gets better. I press my back
against a dirt wall as a foot hops by, chasing after the hand, that’s chasing after the rat, with a
decapitated head rolling —I shit you not—merrily behind them.
It’s like some kind of fucked up nursery rhyme. I don’t want to know the next verse,
especially not with the collection of zombies gathering from all sides. These are different from
the ones who pulled us onto shore. Their grisly faces are more emaciated and their bodies are in
a more advance stage of decomposing. As they shuffle toward me, pieces of their skin fall in
small moist clumps.
I hold out my hand. “Stay back.”
They collectively moan.
And move closer.
I grit my teeth, summoning that spark from deep in my core. The dank air seems to
enclose around me, giving me a chill and snuffing out my inner heat.
Shit, shit, shit.
On wobbly legs, I slide my back against the dirt wall, my hands out. The zombies gather
closer, cocking their heads, their empty sockets mesmerized by the glow of my arm. At first, I
think they’re simply curious. But then their short thick tongues push forward, appearing to lick
what’s left of their lips.
I jump when another hand scrambles by, its pinky brushing against my foot. My back
presses against the dirt wall as I slide against it. I’m not sure where to go. I only know I can’t
stay here.
I bang my fists against the wall, trying to stimulate my fire. My left hand doesn’t react,
tensing uselessly. But that spark I so need triggers from my right arm, igniting flames along the
path of my blue veins only to putter out.
Come on, light.
I groan as I roll onto my back. I’d like to say this is the first time I’ve been knocked
unconscious. I’d also like to say my boobs are the same size, but hey, such is my life.
Dirt. All I sense is that and dank heaviness that accompanies a . . . cave? Through the fog
taking up residency along my brain, I make out a dim glow. It takes me a moment to realize it’s
coming from my light-saber arm. I push up on my hands, grimacing when my fingers sink into
the soil. Yet it’s what I see when I glance up that has me scrambling to my feet.
A lonely hand scuttles by me, chasing after a rat. Oh, but it gets better. I press my back
against a dirt wall as a foot hops by, chasing after the hand, that’s chasing after the rat, with a
decapitated head rolling —I shit you not—merrily behind them.
It’s like some kind of fucked up nursery rhyme. I don’t want to know the next verse,
especially not with the collection of zombies gathering from all sides. These are different from
the ones who pulled us onto shore. Their grisly faces are more emaciated and their bodies are in
a more advance stage of decomposing. As they shuffle toward me, pieces of their skin fall in
small moist clumps.
I hold out my hand. “Stay back.”
They collectively moan.
And move closer.
I grit my teeth, summoning that spark from deep in my core. The dank air seems to
enclose around me, giving me a chill and snuffing out my inner heat.
Shit, shit, shit.
On wobbly legs, I slide my back against the dirt wall, my hands out. The zombies gather
closer, cocking their heads, their empty sockets mesmerized by the glow of my arm. At first, I
think they’re simply curious. But then their short thick tongues push forward, appearing to lick
what’s left of their lips.
I jump when another hand scrambles by, its pinky brushing against my foot. My back
presses against the dirt wall as I slide against it. I’m not sure where to go. I only know I can’t
stay here.
I bang my fists against the wall, trying to stimulate my fire. My left hand doesn’t react,
tensing uselessly. But that spark I so need triggers from my right arm, igniting flames along the
path of my blue veins only to putter out.
Come on, light.
Weird Girls
(7 books)
by
Cecy Robson (Goodreads
|
·٠•● Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ●•٠· Cecy Robson ·٠•●
Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ●•٠·
Cecy Robson is an award-winning author of magical realms, to-die-for Alpha heroes, and young adult adventure. A double RITA® 2016 finalist for Once Pure and Once Kissed, and published author of more than fifteen titles, you can typically find her on her laptop or stumbling blindly in search of caffeine.
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