Book Blitz & Excerpt: Wicked Ways + Giveaway

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Wicked Ways
by Angela Addams

Word Count: 54,720
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 211

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Book Description


A night with him was only meant to be a release, not an awakening.

Adam Lancaster, right-hand man and security expert for Cowan Enterprises, is called back home to help his family save their ranch from a gang of debt collectors.

While he’s there, he’s reunited with his childhood nemesis, Missy Alderton. Missy, once a tomboy, is all grown up and sexy as hell. She’s also the town’s sheriff, a kick-ass law enforcement officer who is determined to bring down the criminal elements that threaten more than just Adam’s family. Since they both have the same goal, it would seem they’d be able to work together, but Missy knows all about Adam’s years of working for the infamous Sabine Cowan, and she doesn’t approve of his methods of fixing problems.

Missy hasn’t seen Adam in five years, not since the night she seduced him as a little payback for things he’d done when they were younger. She got him all hot and bothered and walked away, vowing never to touch the man again. Now that he’s back in town, she keeps trying to convince herself that she’s not interested in spending too much close and personal time with Adam. That’s what her mouth is saying, but her body, on the other hand, can’t seem to get enough of him. Adam is trouble and he’s threatening everything she’s built in Grimshield, including the walls around her heart.

With so much at stake, Adam must convince Missy that sometimes you have to break a lot of rules to get what your heart desires.

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of public sex, emotional abuse and kidnapping.


Five years before

The second Adam locked eyes with the mysterious woman dressed up as a dark angel, he knew he was about to get fucked…in all the right ways.

Sure, he was wearing a lame-ass pirate costume that was at least two sizes too small for his bulky frame, and yeah, he wasn’t supposed to be at the Halloween party to begin with, but this woman was staring at him like she wanted to eat him alive. Adam just knew that she’d come for him. He didn’t know how he knew. It could have been the way her eyes drilled right into him, smoldering and full of lust, and completely locked on his. Or maybe it was her skimpy little costume, all tight-looking black leather, holding on to her curves in a way that made his dick weep—and totally the kind of getup that would drive him wild. Then again, perhaps it was simply the pulse of his aching cock, acting as some kind of lightning rod for a horny female in his sights that had him so sure. This woman was a totally dangerous kind of hot, and she was all his.

The room was completely packed with people, but Adam’s dick was at full attention, straining against the flimsy fabric of his costume, so ready to sink into her. He’d thought the party was going to be lame. Man, was I wrong.

When he started to get up from his seat, she shot him a look that let him know he needed to stay put. She was coming to him.

Oh yeah, baby.

The party was pumping. The music was loud, the bass thumping hard and drinks were flowing. Adam was feeling really fucking good watching this woman come toward him. The crowd moved around her as she approached. Her hips swayed and the wings jutting from her back moved with her, making it seem like she was actually flying toward him. Everything she was wearing was black, from her halo to her sexy-as-hell stilettos—everything except for her pouty lips, which were painted a deep cherry red. Adam licked his lips. He bet she’d taste like cherries too. She had a halter-top vest on that had a zipper down the front. One zip down and her tits would spill right out. Fuck, he wished she’d move faster. He wanted her on his dick, and he had no problem with fucking her right there in the corner of the room. No one would notice, and if they did, they definitely wouldn’t care.

She lifted her hands, running them along her hips and up her sides. Her tits weren’t huge, but she had enough cleavage to make his mouth drool, thinking about licking all that soft, flawless skin. She moved to the side to avoid another girl who was dancing, and it gave Adam a nice view of her rear. Her ass was just visible under that skirt of hers, like one tug up and she’d be exposed. He was praying she wasn’t wearing panties. Fuuuuck, please let her be bare.

She was sex. Pure sex. And even though she was wearing a mask over her eyes, Adam somehow just knew he’d never met her before. She wasn’t from Grimshield. No way. He knew all the girls around town. Even though he’d been gone for ten years, he knew he’d never met this one before he’d left Montana. Besides, this party was a high-school reunion of sorts, and he was sure he hadn’t gone to school with her. He would have remembered a girl like that.

He had to wonder, though, just where she’d come from.

The room was packed. There were so many bodies moving to the music and she was only a few feet away. He was sitting on a sofa chair, like a king, just watching over everyone, waiting for the gorgeous creature to make another move.

And when she got close enough, she stopped, but just for a second—long enough to give him a once-over that confirmed everything he already believed. She was going to ride his dick right there, right now. He was the luckiest guy alive.

She climbed onto his lap. No hesitation… She just hiked her skirt, flashed her lacy pink panties and climbed on up. Adam’s dick was weeping for real. Her pussy was so hot that he could feel it radiating against his pants. She was wet.

She didn’t speak. She just leaned in and kissed him, the fiercest kiss he’d had in a while. Her tongue was in his mouth, stroking him, and all he could think about was how good it felt…and how great her lips would be around his cock. All that cherry-red lipstick surrounding his dick? Yeah, super fucking hot.

She broke the kiss and looked down at him, her dark eyes full of lust and determination. She held up a condom that she’d pulled from fuck-knew-where and had her other hand playing with the zipper on her vest.

This was a sure thing. A quick fuck. His heart was hammering so hard, his dick was pulsing and he was desperate for the heat of her pussy. He grunted something meant to be affirmative, not trusting his voice to come out right.

She unzipped her vest. Her tits were glorious, a handful of flawless porcelain. Her nipples were ripe little berries. Adam was all hands and lips, sucking on her sweet buds, playing with her until she was rubbing herself against him. And when he slipped one hand between her legs, fuck, she was so damn wet, soaking her panties so much that he could have wept with joy.

It was so fucking hot—her little moans and purrs in his ear, the way she bit her bottom lip and how her hips moved when he yanked the panties aside and slipped his fingers into her tight, wet hole. It was a fucking fantasy come alive. This night could not get any more perfect.

Until it did.

She tugged at the flimsy drawstring of his costume and his dick came out like it was spring-loaded. It was hard and slick with pre-cum, and he was dying for her to suck him off. But her lips didn’t come close. Her hands were all over his cock, rubbing him so good that he could have spewed just from that. But she shifted herself back, ripped the condom package with her teeth then slipped it onto his aching cock so fast that he barely had time to think about it. He pulled his fingers out of her and sucked down the taste of her. Their eyes were locked. She was totally in it with him. She tasted like heaven and he wanted more.

Her eyes were drilling him as she lifted her hips and rammed herself hard onto his dick, right down his shaft until he was completely sheathed to the hilt. The sexiest fucking smile curled her lips and she slowly drew her body back, rubbing his cock until she was almost off him before sliding to the hilt again. Yes, she was totally going to fuck his brains out.

This…this was a night for the record books.

There they were, surrounded by other people, and this amazingly gorgeous creature was riding him like her life depended on it. Her sweet little pussy was so damn tight that it was like a leather glove squeezing his dick each time she rolled her hips. And her tits? They were right at his mouth, so he had to suck them in. His hands were on her ass, moving her harder, faster. Then she leaned in closer, so close that her lips were at his ear and she moaned a long, sexy sound. Her pussy was doing a spasmy thing of the most intense ripples and he realized that she was coming so fucking hard. So he let loose too, just let his climax go and filled the fucking condom.

He had his hands on her hips and he pulled her down to kiss those sweet lips again, but she pushed back, her hands on his chest to stop him.

“Nah-uh, big boy,” she purred.

He looked up at her, his mind fuzzy, feeling euphoric, wanting to know who this sexy woman was and where they could go for round two.

“What’s your name, baby?

She just got a smile on her lips and pushed herself up and off him before adjusting her skirt. She did up her vest next, concealing her glorious tits from his view.

He moved forward, doing his best to stop her from leaving him, his dick still hard, wanting more.

“Come on, honey. Tell me who you are.” No way this girl was leaving without giving him her digits.

She laughed, leaned in close and said, “Why don’t you just call me Ugly Duckling, Adam?”

Adam froze. The smile slid from his lips. Clarity came like a slap to the face. There was only one girl he’d ever said something so vile to. “Missy?”

The curl to her lips turned into a sneer, all the answer he needed. Then she spun on those impossibly high heels and walked away.

He watched the crowd swallow her.

He’d just been fucked all right, by the one girl who hated his guts. The last time he’d seen Missy Alderton, she had not looked like a sex goddess. When he’d seen her, she’d been a scrawny teenager and a pain in his ass. Now at almost ten years later, Missy had definitely grown up, and she was sure as shit not an ugly duckling.

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About the Author

Angela Addams

Angela Addams is an author of many naughty things. She believes that the written word is an amazing tool for crafting the most erotic of scenarios and likes telling stories about normal people getting down and dirty and falling in love. Enthralled by the paranormal at an early age, Angela also spends a lot of her time thinking up new story ideas that involve supernatural creatures in everyday situations.

She is an avid tattoo collector, a total book hoarder, and loves anything covered in chocolate…except for bugs.

She lives in Ontario, Canada in an old, creaky house, with her husband, children and four moody cats.

Sign up to Angela’s newsletter and check out her blog and website. You can follow Angela on Instagram and Pinterest, and find her at Amazon, Bookbub and Books & Main.


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Spotlight & Excerpt: Awakening + Author Interview

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A Gripping Modern Day Norse Mythology…



By Kevin D. Miller

Author: Kevin D. Miller
Publisher: BiFrost Books
Pages: 336
Genre: High Fantasy / Epic Fantasy / Action and Adventure / Norse Fantasy / Viking Fantasy / Norse Gods and Goddesses


A megalomaniac god is pursuing a millennia-old vendetta, and Leif must learn to wrangle a newly awakened power to either become a hero or a villain. He will leave his old life and run from creatures he believed were reserved for myth and legend. He travels across the realms while struggling to tame the blinding rage that comes with his new demi-god like power. Will Leif survive the intra-realm quest and prevent Ragnarok or will he fail to control his awakening?

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Alexander never thought that he would live long enough
to enjoy quiet nights like this. He noted it was a particularly cold night as
he stepped onto his back porch. His breath sent out a little fog, and he
marveled at how peaceful winter could be in the Icelandic forest. The freshly
fallen snow sparkled as the Northern lights flashed through the night sky.
Alexander never grew tired of watching their fiery dance. He only wished his
wife, Helga, was still around to enjoy the peace and quiet. Sighing contentedly,
Alexander reached down, grabbed a bundle of firewood, and turned to head back
inside. Suddenly he froze. He felt it, a tingling he hadn’t felt in a long
time, danger. Scanning the surrounding forest, Alexander couldn’t see anything
out of place, but the feeling that something was out there, something that
didn’t belong, still pulled at him like the tide. Alexander stared into the
darkness for a few more moments, but the forest remained silent, unwilling to
give up its secrets. Alexander shrugged and went back into his house. For the
first time in years, he locked the door behind him.

As Alexander sat by the fire, the warmth failed to
chase away the feeling that someone or something was out there roaming his
forest. A familiar howl rang out from deep within the forest, pulling Alexander
out of his thoughts. A second later similar howls answered. Alexander could
identify each individual wolf by their howl; he had known this pack for years.
Settling back in his chair, he envisioned the wolves in full force. The howls
continued to ring across the forest. In all his years living in the forest,
Alexander had never heard so many wolves at once. They sounded agitated. They
must sense it too, he thought.

Alexander groaned as his knees popped and his old
bones protested the sudden movement of getting to his feet. It was as if his
body knew what he was planning to do and was voicing its discontent. It had
been decades since he had been in a fight, but it seemed he was being called
out one last time. Hell, Alexander thought, I may see Helga sooner than I
thought. Pulling on his thick wool parka, Alexander grabbed the double-bladed
ax he used to chop wood. The weight felt comfortable in his hands. The ax had
been his weapon of choice from the time he was strong enough to swing one. His
mother had pushed him to branch out and learn to use other weapons, but it
wasn’t meant to be. The ax was the weapon of his ancestors, and he honored them
by using it. The cold hit Alexander like a hammer, clearing his senses and
waking him up to the world around him. The Berserker had laid dormant inside of
him for decades now, but Alexander could feel the old battle lust stirring
within. The forest had gone too quiet, the howls of the wolf pack had died
down. Goosebumps speckled Alexander’s body as the tension in the air thickened.
Alexander knew why. A predator not of this realm stalked his forest.

Alexander silently crept through the forest. The snow
crunched lightly beneath his weight; his senses screamed at him to turn back,
but he ignored them and pressed on. It had been decades since he had felt the
thrill of a fight, and he relished the feeling.

A bird pierced the silent forest with a loud squawk.
He peered through the tangle of trees and branches; he could barely make out a
blotch of darkness that seemed to be darker than the surrounding forest. As he
moved closer, the air blew warm breaths on his face with each step. Alexander
was within ten feet of the odd black blotch when he noticed that the snow had
completely melted away. Steam rose from the freshly uncovered earth in a circle
around the object. Thick drops of water splashed down from the tree branches
above, puffing into steam upon hitting the forest floor.

Alexander continued to move slowly around the dark
object but didn’t see anyone or anything. Creeping ever closer, his feeling of
unease intensified. As Alexander stepped around the inky darkness, the heat had
him sweating through his clothes. He stopped dead in his tracks. His blood ran
cold. From the back, the round black object drank in all the available light,
but now that Alexander was in front of it, he could see it opened up to a world
of fire and lava. Alexander knew what he was looking at; he just couldn’t
figure out why it was here. The dark blob was a bridge to another realm.
However, it differed from any bridge he had used in his youth. This thing was
more like a rip in the fabric of reality. Whoever did this was immensely
powerful. Peering into the gateway, memories from a lifetime ago came flooding
back to him. Muspelheim, the realm of fire and lava. The home to an
unimaginable evil. It was a place he had hoped to never see again.

As if in answer to his thoughts, something rose out of
the molten river that lay beyond the bridge. Alexander’s stomach backflipped as
he recognized the creature that was steadily stalking towards the bridge. It’s
the beginning of the end, Alexander thought. Ragnarok is here.

As the being stepped through the bridge and into
Alexander’s world, the frigid forest air hissed and steamed in protest to the
fiery monster’s trespass into Midgard. Alexander stared up at the molten giant
and thought he looked even taller than he had appeared decades ago. Alexander
backed up, making sure he was out of range of the monster’s hulking sword. He knew
a fight was inevitable. Alexander closed his eyes and freed the dormant
Berserker, embracing the longforgotten thrill of the fight. Icy fire burned
along his veins as his muscles grew and strengthened. Alexander knew, even in
his enhanced state, that he was no match for the force of nature that stood
before him. He only hoped to fend the giant off long enough to create an
opening and run for help. Hopefully, with luck, he could lose the creature in
the forest.

Alexander opened his eyes, filling his old frame and
flooding his veins with the familiar icy burn of the Berserker. Any thoughts of
running vanished as a thin red haze of rage colored the edge of his vision.
Fear and doubt evaporated and was replaced with excited determination at the
chance to cross blades one last time with a worthy foe. Who gives a damn that
I’m well into my sixties? Alexander thought. “I am the last of an ancient and
powerful Berserker clan, bestowed with the power of Thor, chosen to defend
Midgard from invaders such as you. How dare you step into my realm, Surtr,”
Alexander growled. “You aren’t welcome here. I will say this one time; return
to Muspelheim or face my wrath.”

Surtr’s molten eyes studied Alexander. A voice
Alexander had hoped to never hear again thundered in the clearing. The fire
giant’s voice washed over Alexander like an oncoming forest fire.

“You arrogant and foolish Midgardian. Do you have any
idea who you are speaking too? Face your wrath? Don’t think I don’t remember
you. You are one of the few beings who was lucky enough to escape me the first
time we fought. You will not be so lucky this time. By Hel’s will, I have been
given a second chance to finish the fight you started many years ago.”

“You think I’m afraid of you, giant?” Alexander
boasted, “I have faced hundreds of enemies and killed them all. Last time we
faced, we were in your realm, but now,” Alexander gestured around. “You are far
from Muspelheim. I have the advantage here.”

Surtr laughed and pointed his massive sword at
Alexander. “You truly don’t know what I am, do you? I cannot be killed by the
likes of you.”

Surtr blurred, moving with a speed no normal human
could track. But luckily for Alexander, he wasn’t a normal human. This also
wasn’t his first fight. Alexander had been waiting for Surtr to make the first
move and was ready for him. Surtr’s burning blade slashed through the air mere
centimeters from Alexander’s face as he dodged out of range. A blast of
scalding air washed over Alexander as Surtr’s blade sliced through the air.
Alexander rushed forward, relishing the speed his Berserker state granted him.
Alexander hoped to throw Surtr off by attacking him head on. Slashing upward,
Alexander attempted to split open Surtr’s unarmored stomach. Before the ax hit,
Surtr lashed out, kicking Alexander square in the chest, causing him to fly
backward. He slammed into a tree trunk with a bone crunching crack. Alexander
felt the ancient pine sway back and forth from the impact. Snow rained down
from the branches above, pelting him in wet kisses. Alexander struggled to
catch his breath. Damn, that hurt. I can’t afford to take too many hits like
that, Alexander thought. Struggling to his feet, Alexander felt every cell in
his body struggle with the pain. He suspected a few of his ribs cracked, but nothing
felt permanently damaged or out of place.

Luckily, years of training had taught Alexander to
never let go of his weapon in a fight. Even in his old age, he still had the
wherewithal to keep hold of it. Alexander used his ax as a crutch and looked up
at Surtr. His enemy hadn’t even bothered to follow up his attack; he just stood
there studying Alexander.

“You’ve grown old, Berserker. You weren’t a match for
me decades ago. You certainly aren’t one now.”

Alexander eyed the giant, “Ha, I’m just warming up,
Surtr. Before long I’ll have you running back through that bridge, crying to
whoever sent you here,” Alexander boasted. However, deep down he knew he was
finished. That kick had hurt him more than he cared to admit. His back was
ablaze with pain and his legs felt like wet noodles. I must have damaged my
spine when I hit the tree, Alexander thought. “This fight will be over before I
get a chance to heal,” Alexander grumbled.

Alexander eyed the fiery giant and quietly thanked the
gods he had the foresight to leave a letter to his Berserker heir. He had
wished he could have had more time with his daughter and grandson. He’d wanted
to introduce them to the idea of realms, gods, and supernatural creatures
slowly, but as with all great plans, it fell apart. Alexander could only hope
they would find the journals.

There is no way this attack is random, Alexander
thought. A being such as Surtr doesn’t leave his realm unless provoked, and for
a bridge to open right in his backyard, linking Muspelheim to Midgard – it was
too much of a coincidence. The gods were moving against each other; he could
feel it.

Wincing in pain, Alexander steeled himself.

Whispering reverently, Alexander breathed into the icy
wind, “Odin, Allfather, my time on this mortal plain has come to an end. I, one
of Thor’s anointed, choose to die with an ax in hand, and can only hope to be
welcomed into the halls of Valhalla.” A raven cawed an answer to Alexander’s
prayer somewhere in the trees. Even though Surtr was far stronger than him,
Alexander couldn’t just roll over and die. That wasn’t the Berserker way.
Taking a deep breath, Alexander took a two-handed grip on his ax, feeling the smooth
grip of the handle form perfectly to his weathered and calloused hands. He
charged, bellowing a war cry. Surtr moved in as well, sensing the fight was
coming to an end. Surtr brought down his massive sword in an attempt to split
Alexander in two, but Alexander saw it coming and blocked the attack with his
ax. Sparks flew in all directions as the two blades met. Alexander’s ax blade
chipped and bent along the edge where it met Surtr’s sword, but that didn’t
faze Alexander.

Quick as lightning, Alexander swung for Surtr’s
outstretched forearm. Alexander thought he had scored a hit, but it merely
bounced off Surtr’s thick hide. Alexander, unwilling to relent, swung a
horizontal slash meant to take the giant in the knee, but Surtr’s burning blade
materialized and Alexander’s ax slammed edge first into the flat of Surtr’s
broadsword with a loud clang. The resulting tremor ran up Alexander’s hand and
arm, causing them to momentarily go numb. Dodging to the left, Alexander
averted a savage punch aimed for his head.

Alexander ducked and dodged Surtr’s onslaught. He
never gave up, always looking for an opening to attack. Spinning the ax between
attacks, Alexander continued to duck and dodge, waiting for the giant to make a
mistake. Alexander knew he couldn’t keep this up for much longer, but he
couldn’t waste his attack either.

Alexander backed away. Overconfident, Surtr grew
bolder with each attack and was swinging wildly. Just as he had hoped,
Alexander’s opportunity came as he ducked under a slash meant to take his head
off at the neck. Ducking under the smoldering blade, he stepped in as Surtr’s
blade slammed into an ancient pine tree. The force of Surtr’s blow nearly cut
the massive tree in half, but luckily for Alexander, the blade stopped
three-fourths of the way through.

It only took him a second, but that was all the time
Alexander needed. Alexander knew this was his only chance, and he swung with
all his might. His blade hit Surtr in the stomach. Sparks fluttered to life as
Alexander’s ax impacted Surtr’s hardened skin. A look of shock crept across
Surtr’s face; Alexander’s blade carved out a shallow cut. Surtr blurred,
attacking faster than Alexander thought possible. Not knowing where the attack
was coming from, Alexander flung himself backward, but it wasn’t fast enough.
Surtr’s blade buried itself deep into Alexander’s right shoulder.

Alexander crumbled, falling to his knees as Surtr
pulled the blade free in a spray of blood. Alexander’s vision blurred. Through
the pain, Alexander focused on a thin trickle of molten orange blood seeping
out of the cut chiseled into Surtr. Surtr followed Alexander’s gaze and looked
down. He dabbed lightly at the bleeding wound.

In his grave voice, Surtr intoned, “You are the first
to injure me in decades. Be proud as you go to your death.” He heaved the sword
above his head, “Give my regards to the Aesir. Their rule over the realms has
ended. Ragnarok begins.” Reverently, he brought his sword down for the killing

Alexander, broken and bleeding, moved on reflex,
brought up his ax in an overhead block, but it wasn’t enough. Knowing that his
time had finally come, Alexander hoped he had made his ancestors proud and that
his family would be ready for what was to come. The Berserker mantle that he
had held for so long would finally pass on.

A flutter of wings and a caw from the onlooking raven
were the only sounds in the silent forest as Alexander slumped back, dead.
Surtr took a long moment to stare down at his fallen foe before turning and
disappearing through the bridge.



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Author Interview:

1. What inspired you to write this book? 

The idea for Awakening first came to me back in 2016. I was at home with my girlfriend, Amy. We had just decided to give the History channel’s show Viking’s a try and in the first scene, the main character Ragnar has a vision of Odin during a battle. That’s when the idea hit me, wouldn’t it be cool if there was a modern day Viking story where the Norse gods were real, I thought as the character Ragnar turned away from Odin and started fighting again. I have always had an interest in mythology, especially the Norse pantheon. After a few weeks of research, I felt I had learned enough to begin outlining the plot of my story. Then as I would commute to work I would expand on my ideas while in traffic, playing out different plot lines and stories in my head. Once I felt I had a good mental overview of where I wanted my story to go, I sat down during my lunch break at work and began writing Awakening

2. Is there anything that surprised you about getting your first book published?

How stressful the  publication process is. Luckily for me I had the help of a phenomenal editor that walked me through the publishing process, but even with her help, I was a mess of nerves during the final steps of the publishing process. The reason for my nerves was when I ordered my first proof for my book from a printing company, the book arrived missing the first fifteen pages. Which, from an outside observer might not seem so bad, it was just a proof, some may say. No one saw it so no worries. Which is true, but it also showed me that even with all the printing companies safeguards, mistakes can still happen. And in our modern world you really only get one chance to make a good first impression. To hook a potential reader for life and god forbid there was a printer error like that when my book went live, it could end me even before my writer career begins. So for those first few days after my book went live, I was a nervous wreck. I kept expecting to see a comment pop up on Amazon or receive a text from a friend saying there was something wrong with my book. Thankfully nothing went wrong and I can now move on to the next stage in an authors life, the nervousness of hoping people enjoy their story, ha ha.

3. How hard was it to write a book like this and do you have any tips that you could pass on which would make the journey easier for other writers?

I personally did not find the actual writing of the book to be that hard. I very much enjoyed that part. There is a joy to building the world your book is set in. Then exploring it through writing. A tip I found useful was to pick a specific time each day to sit down and write. It helps you get into the habit of writing. Then after a week or two of following your routine, you will find that it gets easier and easier to switch your brain into creative mode.  Another tip is before you start your writing block, check your email, Instagram, Twitter and whatever social media feed you use one last time, then turn off your WiFi. That way there will be no push notifications to distract you or pull you out of the zone.  Hopefully with the WiFi disconnected, it will also discourage you from surfing the web. This one is definitely easier said than done and to this day I still slip up, but it is a good habit to get into.

4. What are your immediate future plans? 

I wish I could clone myself several times over so I could fully devote myself to the numerous stories I want to write. But alas, there is only one of me, so I have to shelve the many book ideas I have until I have completed The Berserker Chronicles. I recently finished my second draft of Ascension and am hopeful to have the book ready to be published around this time next year.

 5. What was your favorite part of writing this book?

That’s a tough one to answer, but if push comes to shove, I would have to say the world building aspect of writing my book. During Leif’s quest for vengeance he travels to several beautiful and strange realms in his universe and one of my favorite pastimes in the early stages of writing Awakening was to close my eyes and imagine I was Leif walking through the realms for the first time. Feeling the breeze from the Alfhiem forest on my face or the oppressive heat of the lava rivers on Muspelheim. I absolutely loved it. It made the realms more real to me and hopefully for my readers as well

Kevin D. Miller is an attorney in Southern California who spends his two hour commute listening to Science Fiction and Fantasy books on Audible or dreaming up plots for future book ideas. When he isn’t working, Kevin can be found spending time with his girlfriend Amy, and their two dogs Pepper and Riley or hiking and kayaking in Big Bear.







Book Blit & Excerpt: Hack + Giveaway

Hack Banner


Deana Birch

Word Count: 81,815
Book Length: SUPER NOVEL
Pages: 313

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An online criminal craves real-life danger, but her flawed instincts may cost her new crew everything.

Rafael Santos didn’t get the nickname ‘Goldie Locks’ for his shimmering blond curls. His hair is as black as his criminal heart. No, it’s his Midas touch. His ability to earn—coupled with a love for theft and technology—has gained him the coveted Number Two position in the Covington Heights crew. The problem is…after a murder that sent their regular clients packing, even his numbers are down. Now, finding new sources of illegal income is his number one priority.

Marigold Pfeifer is the fairy princess of online deceit. She can slip her computer viruses into a system at the blink of an eye and steal personal information in a twinkly flash. And that’s exactly what she does when screen name ‘GoldieLocks’ slides into her instant messenger. What’d he expect? A gift card?

But when the naïve hacker rides the train uptown to check out mysterious Covington Heights, she’s approached by the leader of the crew and forced to think fast on her feet. A hate-filled rivalry sparks between her and Rafael—and with it a deviously sinful attraction.

Will real-life criminals and the danger they breed be enough to wise up the goth-pixie with zero street smarts when she must navigate dark waters—or will her flawed instincts burn all she’s worked for to the ground?

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of violence and drug use.



They gym we shared on the third floor in Covington Heights was haunted by the spirit of our former crew member Leo. I was sure of it. As I circled around the blue sparring mat trying to find my next move, I could almost hear him whisper in my ear.

Where’s the weakness?

The problem was that the man opposite me didn’t have very many soft spots and his steel-blue eyes were like the tip of his sword. They pierced before anything else. As he narrowed his gaze ever so slightly, he would land his next punch. His brick fist slammed into the cheekbone just below my left eye. Pain slapped the side of my face, but I wouldn’t let it spread to my ego. It wasn’t personal, that I knew. Anton was pissed and working out his frustrations. Hell, we all were.

“Ooo…” He jogged backward. “You okay there, Goldie Locks?” His fake sympathy was followed by a proud smile but he wouldn’t get any complaints or signs of weakness from me.

“You know I like it rough.” I winked and walked over to the small fridge at the back of the gym where my boy Jackson and I had started keeping ice packs. Shit happened. Anton wasn’t as good a teacher as Leo, but practicing was the only way to get better, stronger.

Since Leo’s abrupt departure, Anton had been a miserable prick. He’d turned into the crankiest bitch I’d ever seen. And he had a serious alpha complex. His physical dominance wasn’t only a reminder that he was a better fighter. It was the exclamation point that our asses belonged to him…or else.

Leo had gotten away with too much, and those who were still around were paying the price. I shot a knowing glance to Jackson, who looked away and continued to do his bicep curls on a bench near the door.

Anton wrapped a towel around his bare shoulders and said, “Jackson, meet me in fifteen at my place. Scooter’s bringing the numbers from Bradford South.”

I dug out the frozen bag of blue gel then sat on the side of the treadmill as I pressed it into my cheek—bitter cold relief for a festering wound of the bossman’s frustration. No one could spar like Leo. Message received. No one was going to be allowed to get away with the same disrespect. Got it. But penance for other people’s sins was getting old quick. Unfortunately, all was fair in crime and crews. Did I like taking a blow from time to time? Honestly? Yeah, I did. I wanted to be better, wanted to learn. I craved more respect and was plotting ways to get it.

Anton tipped up his chin and winked at me. It was his way of checking in. That was also part of his management technique or whatever-the-fuck way he kept us down but happy. Show the power first, then a hint of giving a shit. I’d seen it before. I actually didn’t mind it. The familiarity was somehow comforting.

“Let’s make some fucking money today.” Anton looked us over one last time before leaving, his glare emphasizing that it was a command, not a request.

I walked over to Jackson, my former roommate and literal partner in crime. We’d bonded over not having fucked-up families, just fucked-up circumstances, Xbox and both refusing to become adult enough to drink coffee. Plus, we liked the idea of belonging somewhere. And the money… We liked the money.

Jackson set the weights down on the gray concrete floor. “He needs to get laid.”

More like I needed to get laid. I’d given up on banging girls from our neighborhood. There was nothing interesting about being worshiped. Besides, they only did it in hopes of making their lives better. None of them really ever bothered to get to know me, not to mention that half of them were customers. That was more trouble than it was worth.

I shook my head. Anton had no problem there. “He needs to make more money.” It was true that since we’d knocked off Mac, who had been a regular patron at our backdoor gambling racket, attendance had gone down to zero. No one liked the idea of tempting Anton’s quick fuse and ending up in the river—not that we’d thrown Mac in the river, of course.

Lucky for us, the police had written off the Bradford murders as a drug deal gone wrong and hadn’t cared to search much further. Our sources at the precinct said there had been mild rumblings of it seeming like a professional hit because of the precision, but, in the end, it was a criminal-on-criminal crime and they tended not to waste too many resources on shit like that.

Jackson stood and put his hands on his hips. “What are you up to later? I’m moving my stuff to Lisa’s and could use a hand.”

“Aww. You all lonely and shit since I moved out?”

Jackson rolled his dark brown eyes. “Nah. I’m all horny and shit since she finally let me tap that ass. Besides, I like showing Junior what a stable woman looks like.” He held my gaze for a brief second.

There was no need to explain. I’d seen Jackson’s baby-mama Bridget at our bench in the courtyard too many times in the last month. Selling drugs was a lot less fun when it was to the mother of one of your favorite kids, which brought me full circle to the money problem. We were a small operation. Sure, we had gained territory since the Bradford Towers crew had taken the hit. But with the game numbers down, I was pretty sure that the money decline was tainting Anton’s mood more than the loss of his previous sidekick. The bossman wasn’t exactly sentimental.

I pressed the cool into my cheek. It had thawed a little and was losing its original stiffness. “I’m working on something…a new business venture. Just waiting on a contact.”

Jackson rubbed his jaw. Maybe he’d taken a couple of hits I hadn’t seen. “Well, get fuckin’ crackin’.” He gave me a little salute and was gone.

I reached for a hand towel and wiped the residual sweat off my arms and chest. I hadn’t always wanted to be a law-breaking shit who sold people poison. It was just that I’d been bored—bored in school, bored in life, bored everywhere except in my own head. There, everything spun. It was like other people’s brains were funnels catching raindrops and all the information came to one eventual stream of thought. Mine? A constant downpour where I wanted to see every single bead of water and analyze it. That was what my high school computer teacher had said, anyway. He’d also said that was why I would be great in IT. Yeah, that ‘career path’ had taken an odd but predictable turn.

Breaking into people’s computers calmed me—and had earned me my first trip to juvey. When I’d gotten out and met Anton… Well, it all just seemed like destiny. But Anton was hard, from his jawline to his inability to show compassion. I didn’t have that darkness inside. Not that it mattered… I’d made my choices. A life in a suit and a picket fence with a puppy wasn’t going to happen for me.

I left the gym and went across the hall to the apartment I’d shared with Anton since Leo had moved out. The spray of his shower echoed down the hall that led to his room. I headed in the opposite direction, crashed on my bed with a thud and reached for my laptop.

I logged in to my favorite online chat for hackers and it only took a second for my idol to send me a direct message. Bingo.

Majel213: Going live in five. Glad you finally decided to show up, Goldie.

As if I would miss it. Majel213 was my Internet spirit animal. I typed my response.

GoldieLocks: Highlight of my day. You know I’ve been itching to see what you’ve been scheming.

I always tried to up my nerd and downplay my street vibe whenever she and I chatted. The tech geek in me wanted her to respect my brains, as fucking stupid as that was. Online, I could be anybody. The idea of someone liking me for my intelligence was an out-of-body experience. In the six months since I’d found Majel213 and her wicked tutorials, we’d somehow become friends. Well, maybe not friends—but more than online strangers. It was just that we’d never actually seen each other. I’d never offered a profile pic in our chats and she did all her videos without showing her face.

I was sure that if she knew I was just some street criminal who’d never really carried out an impressive hack, I would lose the connection we’d built. And I needed her. Getting my hands on her malware was a way to keep my Midas touch.

The nickname ‘Goldie Locks’ had evolved over the years from ‘Golden Boy’, neither of which had anything to do with my hair. That was pitch black. It was because I was a good earner and I’d gotten the light-eye gene from my Brazilian heritage. The fact that the name had turned into a fairy-tale character didn’t bother me. In fact, when I’d first starting using it online, I’d catfished quite a few idiots.

Five minutes later, I clicked over to the 677CrackChat and logged in. Holy hell. Majel213’s raspy voice played over my thin speaker and she was transmitting dual screens.

“Meet Nathanial E. Tomjak. He lives in North Dakota, loves to fish and hunt. He’s new to all this because, quote, ‘my daughter finally convinced me to join the social media thingy.’ No one suspects he’s not a real person because his picture, which I photoshopped to change eye color, hair color, skin tone and age, is right here for all to see.”

She clicked on the picture and enlarged it to fit the screen. If she hadn’t said it was altered, I would have never guessed. Nathanial E. Tomjak was the epitome of a Midwestern retired grandpa, complete with triple chin, racing T-shirt and warm smile.

“So, Nate—I call him Nate—Nate was a creation of a profile after I had already found”—she clicked a couple of times and brought up a picture of Caroline Claussen—”this sweet, cat-loving mama.”

The kind face of an older woman replaced the screen. “Caroline works for the sheriff of Zapata Falls and is my number one target for malware.”

There was a slight East Coast accent in Majel213’s voice. Her pronunciation of ‘number’ sounded a little like a ‘numba’ and I let myself believe that one day I might meet my nerd crush face-to-face and she would be hot, which was stupid. Finding the sexy librarian type in real life who could live up to my fantasies was proving to be difficult. Also, the whole selling drugs to pay the rent never went over well with the smart girls I liked.

But Majel213? She was my perfect blend of intelligence and criminal. By her screen name, she was in camp Star Trek over Star Wars. Her clever and deviant behavior inspired my own. We were soulmates, I was sure—me and the other four hundred sixty-three dorks watching her show us the latest and sneakiest ways to crack, hack and hide.

I propped up the pillows behind me, workout stank be damned, laid a towel on my chest under my laptop and settled in. I was ready to learn everything she had to teach me.

And listen to her. Fuck, I loved the sound of her voice. It was low and seductive, but she was also funny. At the end of all her tutorials, she would say, “And change your fucking passwords, Geeks!” That usually led me to go around the apartment and do just that. My phone, Anton’s phone, Jackson’s phone when I’d lived with him, then all sites, all applications… I could spend half my day just doing what Majel213 told me.

And more than once, my own passwords had been changed to her fucking screen name. How I’d become a lovesick dork slash criminal was beyond my comprehension.

That sultry tone went on to describe how she’d found her target and worked backward. How creating a fake person was easy. Once she had the profile pic, the rest of what ‘he’ posted was either shares from propaganda that aligned with Caroline’s beliefs or pictures that he wasn’t in. ‘Nate’ had become friends with one of Caroline’s relatives through people who were more interested in having followers and like than caring if they actually knew the person.

Then it had just been as simple as engaging on the same post by the mutual friend and boom! There was a direct line to her target. It required maintenance, but according to Majel213, that was part of the fun. The hard part, she said in the voice that had me wondering how ‘Rafael’ would sound if she whispered it all quiet and sultry next to my ear, was waiting for the day that Caroline would open her social media on her work computer. But, Majel213 wasn’t worried. Caroline had said that she hated texting on her phone and was much faster on a keyboard, so it was just a matter of finding a topic that would inspire Caroline to need to converse faster—like making Nate’s tabby cat ill.

Majel213 had a beautifully perverse brain.

She explained that once the application was opened in the office of the sheriff of Zapata Falls, because Majel213 had programmed a sneaky virus that shadowed the direct messenger, the malware would be on Caroline’s hard drive in thirty seconds. And that would translate to the entire town being held hostage by Majel213 until they paid their ransom in untraceable cryptocurrency.

And pay they would, she assured, because the counties, cities or whatever were insured…and the FBI would tell them to. Otherwise, all their systems stayed frozen and spun around in the never-ending computer circle of death.

And the real beauty? While they tried to figure out how to pay, she just kept stealing all their information. It was pretty customary malware shiftiness. She could get tax returns, social security numbers, backgrounds, criminal records and birth certificates then sell that to criminals like me. Majel213 just made it sound so much sexier than it probably was.

Internal man-dork sigh.

She also sold her out-of-date malware to us nerds who didn’t know how to code it as well as she did. The clever thief was always three steps ahead, and the improved versions of her viruses and programs were for her use only.

So it was that version—the latest and most dangerous—that I was sure I needed to make bank for the crew, not a malware program an average bad actor could use. Somehow, I was going to convince the normally selfish Majel213 to share her updated goods, and we would go from street criminals to an organized threat to society. I tingled all over just thinking about it.

Her scratchy voice rang out and woke me from my dream of living the calm, boring life of a closet criminal. “Change your fucking passwords, Geeks! Oh, and I’m taking questions for the next five minutes on message chat. Dick picks will result in a virus that sends it to your grandma, assholes.”

I shot up and clicked on our message window. Time to make a deal.

GoldieLocks: Brilliant as usual. How do I get my hands on your latest version?

Majel213: Thanks for watching. It’s always nice to have you there. The links are up.

I didn’t want those old, used-up links. I wanted the version she was hoarding for herself.

GoldieLocks: No, I mean the *real* latest version.

Majel213: Not for sale, sweetie. Sorry. You know that.

My internal ego liked the term of endearment so much that he convinced my brain it was for him. But I wasn’t giving up that easy.

GoldieLocks: Everything has a price.

It was a bold promise, considering we didn’t have a savings account with money piled up.

The ellipsis next to her name stayed for a minute like she was writing some long explanation. My heart raced and I drummed my fingers lightly over the keys without hitting hard enough to type.

Name your price, baby girl.

Oh, the money I could make for Anton. And I wouldn’t have to sit out on that fucking bench and watched addicts wither away with each sale I made. I could perch myself on the couch, post to social media then just wait to pounce. And getting the latest version of the malware would ensure it wasn’t tracible. It would be new and never have been used.

Majel213: Indeed it does. My apologies.

She added a winky face emoji and left the chat. Shit. I should have brought up cash. She was always talking about cryptocurrency, but cash was still king for criminals. I should have started with that. Next time. Next time I would lead with, “How much cash would it take?”

Fuck. Didn’t she know I needed that shit like…yesterday?

I closed my laptop and tossed it to the end of the bed. After a quick shower, I found Anton in a hovered meeting with Scooter at the island in the kitchen. The sour frown on his pale face was enough to know he didn’t like what he and Jackson had heard earlier. We needed money. I was the Golden Boy and he was relying on me to make good on my previous abilities to earn.

Working on it, boss.

“I’m headed down to the bench then I have to help with a thing. Later.”

I jogged down the stairs and out to the courtyard that connected the three buildings of Covington Heights. A small gathering of black jeans parted and Jackson stood, towering over us all. We man-hugged, the official sign that he was off duty and I was on.

His spot on the bench was still warm, and I draped my arms out, taking as much space as I could.

A new member of the crew caught my eye on the edge of the circle. He was a bit scrawny and had probably come from Bradford. More and more defectors were crossing into our territory. That particular one looked hungry as hell. Sometimes I wondered if the new recruits weren’t double agents. I reminded myself to keep my guard up at all times.

Maybe I would do a password sweep after dinner. Although, the skinny kids from the projects weren’t much of a threat to the technology that I used. Hell, they wouldn’t even know how to put a virus onto a computer.

Like Majel213… Using direct messaging to shadow…

Fucking fuck, fuck.

Mother of all fucks.

My pulse raced and I closed my eyes in horrid understanding. She’d broken into my fucking computer.

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About the Author

Deana Birch

Deana Birch was named after her father’s first love, who just so happened not to be her mother. Born and raised in the Midwest, she made stops in Los Angeles and New York before settling in Europe, where she lives with her own blue-eyed Happily Ever After. Her days are spent teaching yoga, playing tennis, ruining her children’s French homework, cleaning up dog vomit, writing her next book or reading someone else’s.

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