K-Pop’s bad boy, Cho Tae-Hyung, has kept a low profile since his last scandal threatened to derail his whole career. Back on tour with his bandmates, the K-pop Second Gen group, Talisman, he’s more than willing to make amends with the fans in Korea and Internationally. However, scandals seem to follow him even when he tries to lead a quiet life.
Every new headline about Tae-Hyung threatens to keep him away from the only woman he’s ever loved.
Seok Sarah is ready to move on from Spencer Choi. The British Korean model is everything she wanted on paper. However, Sarah’s heart gravitates toward Tae-Hyung, constantly replaying memories of their erotic entanglements. To escape the aftermath of the disaster she created, Sarah moves to Seoul to open a Tour Guide Start-up with none other than Tae-Hyung.
And to make matters worse, a visit from Spencer threatens to expose her and change how people see her.
Born in the Wild West and raised in a tropical paradise, Marilyn has always thirsted for a good story and adventure. She’s a massive fan of Anne Rice, Stephen King, and GRR Martin. And when she’s not reading, she’s an avid gamer.
She currently lives in Central Florida with the Frenchman and their two children in a house that looks relatively normal until things go bump in the night.
She also writes Young Adult Paranormal stories under the name, Marilyn Almodovar.
Kidnapped There was a slight pulse of pain right between my eyes as if someone had flicked their fingers on my forehead in a playful manner. I fluttered my eyelashes, but they didn’t want to open just yet. I reached a hand toward my face, hoping I could rub the ache away. That’s when I noticed the extra weight around my wrist and the gentle clink of metal. Interesting. I shifted my other hand and found it also had a brace of some sort on it. Distracted by this oddness, I shrugged off the sleepiness, opened my eyes, and sat up. I stared at my hands laying in my lap. I was wearing chains. Not cheap shit either, these were good solid cuffs, and the brackets were thick, meant to tie up a bull or larger creature. I raised my arms and turned them around, analyzing the restrains from all angles. I was a bit impressed. Even if I broke every bone in my hands it would be difficult to slip myself free of the metal cuffs. My eyes followed the chain and found them looped around a support beam for a house, it was a good foot thick, but wooden. Well, if I really wanted, I could slowly chew away at that wood, so it was a moderate flaw in my imprisonment. My feet were also unhindered, another disappointment. I was torn between my captor being a professional or amateur. I surveyed further and confirmed my location. I was in someone’s unfinished basement. “Ah, a bit cliché,” I said to myself. I tried to recall how I’d ended up in this situation. All I could remember was that stupid bartender at Kenny’s Pub smirking at me while I was… The memory shrank away as floorboards creaked above me. Light filled the room from overhead as the basement door opened. I bent my legs and rested my elbows on my thighs as I watched my captor descend the steps. It was hard to see their face at first, since the light was behind them. Their silhouette defined them as a slender man. They reached the bottom of the steps and flicked on the main light for the basement, a dangling bulb that hung out of reach above us. “You’re awake already?” The man gaped at me, a four-foot-long iron pipe gripped in one hand and resting on his shoulder. Ah, so that was why my feet weren’t chained. He was going to break my ankles with that pipe. Now that the light was on, I could see my captor clearly. His name didn’t come to mind immediately, but I had seen him before. Was he in one of my college classes? The kid who always sat in the back row with a hoodie on? This had to be the best view I’d ever had of his face and possibly the first time I’d ever seen his hair. He always had that hoodie on. “You’ll have to forgive me,” I said. “Your name is escaping me. Can you refresh my memory? We have American Literature together, right?” He stood there, not more than two feet from the staircase; his eyes locked on me. I wondered which part puzzled him more: my quick recovery from his drugs or the fact I didn’t seem to mind my current situation. “Eh, if you don’t want to tell me, I’ll just ask around tomorrow,” I said. I pointed at his hair. “I like the haircut. You should show it off more.” He had dark black hair cut very short, likely done himself. It was a stark contrast to my own spiked hair with frosted tips. He narrowed his eyes and crouched so he was on my eye level. “I think you might just miss class tomorrow.” I grinned. Oh, I was going to enjoy this. “Is that so? Education is important. I would prefer to not miss any school.” “That’s going to be a bit of a problem since you’re never leaving this basement.” “Never?” My senses were clearing, the last bits of his drugs fading away. I sniffed the stank air. “It doesn’t smell like I’m your first guest to visit this place. Are the others still here?” “What?” I saw a glimpse of doubt cross his face. “At least I will not be alone.” “You think corpses make good company?” “Do you not? Why else would you have so many under your house?” I tilted my head and looked at the pipe. “Is that for me?” “Aren’t you going to ask why you’re here?” I shrugged. “If we’re simply going to talk, are the restraints needed?” He smiled, his grin quite wicked on his face. “What are you willing to do for me in exchange?” “Do you mean to imply I can earn my freedom?” “You just got here,” he said. “I think we should start smaller.” He lowered the pipe and twirled it around playfully. “Are you hungry?” “I must earn my food?” “Oh, yes, ask me to feed you.” I leaned back against the support beam. “Alright, feed me.” His expression darkened. “I have a nice heaping serving of—” He didn’t finish. Instead, he let his actions complete his thought. He swung the pipe, slamming it into my left ankle with bone-shattering strength.
About Nina Schluntz:
Nina Schluntz is a native to rural Nebraska. In her youth, she often wrote short stories to entertain her friends. Those ideas evolved into the novels she creates today.
Her husband continues to ensure her stories maintain a touch of realism as she delves into the science fiction and fantasy realm. Their three cats are always willing to stay up late to provide inspiration, whether it is a howl from the stray born in the backyard or an encouraging bite from the so called “calming kitten.”