Thursday, December 1, 2016

The Captive Quill Press Book Fair & Giveaway blitz

The Lost Heir by Allison Whitmore
Isabella Foxworthy was just another girl…until she learned she was an empath, able to read the energy of others. 

A secret world known as the Violet City lies beneath her Hollywood family’s legendary hotel. Through this discovery, Isabella is catapulted into a whirlwind of magic, adventure, and danger. The Violet City holds the key to protecting her stability; her family hotel, her friends, and her very sanity. 

With morphlings, empaths, and fair folk also comes a powerful entity that twists her mind into knots, threatening everything she loves. Now, Isabella and her new friends—a guitar-playing jock, his gifted but neurotic brother, and a set of over-indulged twins—have until her 16th birthday to save her world with the help of someone who’s been lost for a very long time…the lost Foxworthy heir. 

But will they find him in time? And will he be a friend or foe?

Embark on a fantastical journey in this young adult novel perfect for fans of Harry Potter and The Mortal Instruments.

Excerpt
The Light Council
They lurched forward. Seth gripped Isabella’s hand. Cleo squeezed her arm. Soft lights blinked off and then on—slow then fast—until gossamer light illuminated an octagon-shaped room. On each of its eight stone walls hung a portrait, and beneath each portrait was a shiny jewel-like object. In the center of the room was an eight-sided table with eight high-backed chairs, each decorated with the same symbol they’d seen on the other side of the wall. Four matching oblong velvet boxes had been placed at each station. And there was a shimmering black globe at the center of the table.
“Sick,” said Seth.
“I don’t think I’d call this sick,” remarked Cleo.
“Sick means—”
“I know what it means.” Cleo said. “It’s just that…”
“Can you two do me a favor?” Isabella asked before they went on.
“What?” asked Seth.
Loosen the lockjaw grips.” She felt an odd heat from Seth’s hand turn her core cold and an uneasy warmth from Cleo’s. Cleo’s mood was easy to discern—embarrassment; but Seth’s was more complicated, and, as usual, a cool wall was quickly erected around him so there was nothing more to investigate.
“Sorry,” they both said, dropping their hands. Cleo approached the table.
“Well, Theophilus obviously isn’t here, either,” said Isabella.
“Oh, wow,” said Cleo, holding up a gold pen she’d taken out of one of the oblong boxes at the table. “Look at these!”
Seth approached the table and grabbed a pen from a box in front of a different chair. “Okay. This is weird.”
“What are you two talking about?” Isabella strode over as Seth held out his pen. The name Gerard Logan, looped in script, was etched into its gold plating.
“They’re two for every person in these case things,” Seth muttered as he continued around the table.
Patricia Antonelli,” whispered Cleo, reading the pen in her hand before moving to the next station and picking up another. “Marcellus Antonelli.”
“Mariah Logan,” said Seth, his voice cracking as he stared at the next pen in his hand.
“Catherine Bayer Foxworthy,” Isabella said slowly, studying the one she’d picked up. What was all this? She tucked one of the pens with her grandmother’s name into her pocket as she moved to the chair at the head of the table. She picked up another. “Theophilus Dodge.”
“Who are Millford Peck and Betty Reed?” asked Cleo.
“Betty Reed? That’s our cook,” said Isabella, temples pulsing. “This is really starting to scare me, you guys.”
“Every set of pens has its own symbol and the symbol from outside. The same symbol that’s right there.” Cleo, pointed to a carving of it on the table. “Look. It says lux, veritas, virtusbeneath this one. I think that means ‘light, truth, and courage.’”

SPIN by Genevieve Raas
A necklace, a ring, a child…There is always a price one is willing to pay.
Laila sees her impending death in the mountains of straw waiting to be spun into gold. Faced with the impossible, she makes the impossible decision to survive, no matter what the cost.
A shadowy stranger sees an opportunity for vengeance. Born to a nightmarish destiny that crushed and embittered his faith in humanity, he devotes himself to dealing in dark desires and desperate souls, and Laila’s is ripe for the trade.
When the stranger asks his price, Laila is bound by blood and magic to pay. His own heart was never supposed to be part of the deal, but when honor drives Laila to break their bargain, he ends up tangled in his own web of deceit and destruction in a desperate attempt to save her life. In the black of night, there are no fairytales, only choices.
One choice makes a queen. One choice consumes a soul. It’s a roll of the dice in a game where love is everyone’s undoing.
Spin, Genevieve Raas’ debut fantasy novel, is a twisted, sexy retelling of one of Grimm’s classic tales and the first book in the Spindlewind series.
EXCERPT
Straw.
Mountains of straw filled the room from floor to ceiling. Heavy stones crushed all hope. A rat scuttled along the wall’s edge. Water dripped from small cracks. Darkness abounded except for the dim light from a small torch. In the center of the room, amid the golden slopes, stood a simple wooden spinning wheel. Baskets of empty bobbins were strewn all around, waiting to be filled by the girl who was supposedly able to spin straw into gold. 
“I think it is very clear what I want you to do,” the king hissed. “If by tomorrow morning you have not spun the straw into gold, well, I’m sure your head will fit quite nicely into one of these baskets instead.”
My blood ran cold. It is one thing knowing you will die, but another completely to hear about the disposal of your remains.
“Spinning straw into gold is impossible! I could never do such a thing. No one can!” I pleaded.
“I suggest you figure it out. Spin for your freedom. That will be your prize. Otherwise, I will kill you and have your carcass nailed to a stake so the entire kingdom will see what I do to liars.”
I grew dizzy and thought I might vomit. My limbs shook, and I couldn’t stop thinking that death awaited me in the morning. I slumped against the spinning wheel, scrabbling to hold onto it and losing my footing as the wheel betrayed me and rolled, sending me stumbling into the straw. The king only laughed, and it made me hate him more than I knew possible.
“Don’t look so glum! I know my methods may be harsh, but I do what’s necessary to get the results I desire. You seem to need some motivation, and I have learned that death is the greatest motivation of all.”
He gently ran a finger down my throat, “But I must admit, it would pain me greatly to sever such a beautiful neck.”
My stomach twisted as a shiver ran through my body, blood draining from my veins. I was forced to double over in agony, unable to breath. I wrapped my arms around my middle and dry heaved.
“Come, come, I’m sure it won’t come to that,” the king said, his lips cracked in a terrifying, gargoyle grin. “I suggest you focus your energy on the task at hand rather than self-pity if you want to be done by morning.”
He departed, his shadow retreating behind him up the spiral staircase, leaving me alone to my kingdom of straw. A fresh wave of panic rippled through me as a thunderous bolt and lock echoed down from the iron door. I was sealed in. Entombed.
Frantically, I waded into the sea of straw to find a way out. One had to exist, it just had to be unearthed. A million sharp little ends pricked my skin, but the straw was too deeply packed against the walls for me to reach them. Refusing to surrender, I dove my hands within the thick jungle of twigs until I felt the cold stone beneath. I ran my hands quickly along the deep grooves of mortar, searching for some opening, some forgotten crevice that might lead to freedom. The needle-like straw bit my fingertips and scratched my hands until I stained the yellow twigs red with blood.
I would’ve kept searching until my hands were nothing but bone and sinew, the drive for survival hammering in my chest. However, as the hours passed, I finally began to accept the truth. There was no passage, no crevice, no way out except the heavy metal door atop the staircase.
I was completely trapped.

Deadly Alchemy by Julie Morgan
Winner 2015 sexiest steampunk book award

How do you choose who lives and who dies?

Alchemist Amelia Rimos has just discovered the cure for the Undead. Being naïve and vulnerable, she does not realize the Undead have their targets set on her.

Happening upon a tall, dark, exotic man named Michel Gauthier, he saves her from becoming a victim, thrusting her into a game of cat and mouse. Amelia realizes being an Alchemist is not in her best interest when she befriends him. Is Michel as sincere as he seems or does he have an ulterior motive?
When her life cannot be more complicated, John Hawthorne interjects himself into Amelia's life and shifts it completely upside down. He informs Amelia she has the key to their survival. Soon, she will realize the Undead are not the only monsters in the world… 

Amelia will find herself in a stalemate: She will be forced to choose between destroying her evidence and saving the man she’s grown to love or destroying over half the population of the world, including the love of her life with it.
EXCERPT
The sound of a struggle erupts from the side of my coach. My heartbeat speeds up, and standing frozen in place, my eyes roam the area in hopes of seeing what is happening… before it sees me. Vampires are plentiful in our world; however, as an Alchemist, it is my duty to protect the humans from attacks. If I am attacked… “Well, I can’t think about that right now.”
Taking in a deep breath, and pushing the thoughts of a vampire attacking me by the lab out of my mind, I take a few steps toward my coach. “Henry?” I call for my driver, “Are you alright?”
Tentatively, I reach inside my bag. My fingers search for a vial of liquid sun. Years ago, when becoming a master at my craft, the best decision I made was creating this solution. As the Undead burn from the inside out, their bodies explode as if the sun was actually shining from within.
Clutching it tightly in my grasp, I think for a moment I might break the glass within my grip. Slowly pulling it out of my bag, I take another tentative step forward. “Henry? Please talk to me!”
Suddenly, a growl pierces the night air, followed by a figure moving so quickly, I am afraid I might have imagined it. A scream pierces the night from somewhere nearby and I drop the liquid sun on the ground where it explodes at my feet. I cover my mouth with my hand to keep from screaming along with whoever is being tortured. Panic and fear build quickly and I am afraid I may pass out from the adrenaline rush I am experiencing. I take a few steps back when a man peers from around the side of the carriage.

Downcast by Cait Reynolds
Secrets.
Myths and monsters.
What if you had to believe the impossible…then fall in love with him?

Stephanie Starr thinks her senior year of high school is going to be like every other: an ordinary kind of awful stuck between a group of mean girls and her mother’s overprotective mania.

Everything changes when gorgeous Haley Smith walks into her life. She doesn’t understand why he wants her so badly and pushes him away. But, Haley won’t give up. He can’t give up. There’s a shadow running through his blood tied to a curse in hers, and time is running out for them both.
Faced with rogue gods and deadly prophesies, Stephanie must survive the ultimate test in order to uncover the truth and save her mother, her friends, and her town. Nothing can prepare her for what she discovers, and no one can save her from her fate.

Except Haley.
Angel Hands by Cait Reynolds
Sometimes, it is best to begin at the end.

Angel Hands, by Cait Reynolds, begins at the end of The Phantom of the Opera, revealing, for the first time, the true story behind Leroux’s fantastical tale and the real fate of the Phantom himself.

When the Opera de Paris is purchased and renovated, years after a mysterious fire nearly destroyed it, the Phantom finds himself unexpectedly resurrected – in the form of a young boy hired by the manager’s daughter to play pranks on the cast, crew, and audience. After all, the return of the infamous “Opera Ghost” can only be good for ticket sales, and Mireille Dubienne is determined to see her father’s investment become profitable.

Plain, shrewd, and proud, Mireille pours the rage of her disappointed hopes and looming spinsterhood into helping her father manage the Opera de Paris and making it a success.

What she doesn’t count on is the real “Opera Ghost” deciding he no longer wishes to be an understudy in his own domain, the theater that Mireille believes is hers.

The Phantom and Mireille push each other to the limits of their cunning to control and manipulate each other, with no game too low to play. With each passing day, the stakes get higher, until surrender is no longer an option for the Phantom or Mireille.

Every trick and betrayal drive them toward a startling truth that will change more than one life forever: you can’t love what you hate…but you can desire it.
EXCERPT
The smallest sound of a deliberate breath jerked her from her unguarded moment of fatigue.
 “Mon Dieu!” she exclaimed, searching the shadows that suddenly seemed to swallow all the light in her office.
 “No, not God, mademoiselle. Simply a ghost.”
 The voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, and the rumbling, purring quality had Mireille struggling to get back in control of her wits. But once she was thinking clearly again, she was ready for battle. There was only one possible source for such a voice.
 “So, you are real after all,” she drawled sarcastically.
 “Hmmm. Quite,” the voice replied, matching her tone precisely.
 “And why reveal yourself to me tonight, Monsieur le Fantôme?”
 “I was bored.”
 Mireille narrowed her eyes.
 “I am sorry,” she said innocently. “But you must come back. Auditions for the Opera Ghost are not until next week.”
 “Why hire one when you already have one?”
 “Why not? I would have to pay the ghost one way or another—for I am sure it won’t be long until you’re making monetary demands of me. At least with an outside ghost, I can fire him if he pisses me off.”
 “Your candor is remarkable.”
 “A nice way to say fuc-”
 “Tut, tut. Such language from a young lady.”
 “You’ve heard me say worse to the stagehands, no doubt.”
 The silence acceded her point.
 Mireille prayed that her wildly beating heart would slow and steady. It was taking every ounce of bravado and wit to keep her cool during this exchange. He had taken her by surprise…well, shocked her to her core, to be perfectly accurate. It was all happening too quickly. She just had to brazen this through then think over the consequences later…consequences and opportunities…
 “What is it that you want, monsieur?”
 “Hmmm. An excellent question, mademoiselle. And not one that I have an exact answer for at the moment.”
 “I didn’t think you the type to pay social calls.”
 “I’m not.”
 “Then what is this truly? A warning shot across the bow? An opening salvo?”
 “Perhaps.”
 “Don’t fight me, Monsieur le Fantôme. You will lose.”
 “Perhaps.”
 A throaty chuckle seemed to shiver in the air around her. “Then again, perhaps not.”
 Mireille’s head was throbbing, and she fought to maintain her composure. “Well, as pleasant as this little chat has been, I am afraid that I must go now. It has been a long day, and I am tired.”
 “Yes, you must be. The circles under your eyes are terrible.”
 She couldn’t trust herself to make an adequate reply. She was angered at hearing her father’s words echoed back at her. It was even more unnerving to think that this man could have been eavesdropping on her from the very beginning. Forcing herself to act calm and nonchalant, she stood up and put on her spectacles again.
 With a sneer, she turned out the oil lamp in a gesture of defiance that showed she was not afraid of either the dark or the man that lurked in it.
 She picked up her folio of paperwork and was about to leave when the voice stopped her.
 “When you go for your dress-making appointment, I would like for you to select something in midnight blue. I think it will suit you quite well.”
 Mireille opened her mouth in protest, then closed it without making a sound. As much as she wanted to yank the door open and slam it closed, she made herself to open and close it softly and normally.
 In the dark, silent office, a shadow moved and smiled to itself.
“So, you are a woman after all, my dear. Excellent.”

SILENCED by KN Lee
Silence kept her alive.
Magic will set her free.

Willa Avery created the serum that changed the world as humans, witches, and vampires knew it. Sun Serum 99, the cure for a vampire's death by sunlight. Many tried to create it, but it took the magic and science of a Grand Elite Caster to perfect it. Despite the fame and recognition that came with this discovery, the fact remains: Willa was forced by the vampire king of the West to create the one thing she could have used to kill him.

After hiding from the king and his spies for years, she's tired of living in the shadows. She vows to end his reign of terror and return to the man she was stolen from a century ago.

With her two best friends--witches of high rank by her side, and the love of a vampire seeking his freedom, can Willa destroy the king that ruined her life?

**WARNING: contains explicit adult situations and violence.**
Straw.
Mountains of straw filled the room from floor to ceiling. Heavy stones crushed all hope. A rat scuttled along the wall’s edge. Water dripped from small cracks. Darkness abounded except for the dim light from a small torch. In the center of the room, amid the golden slopes, stood a simple wooden spinning wheel. Baskets of empty bobbins were strewn all around, waiting to be filled by the girl who was supposedly able to spin straw into gold. 
“I think it is very clear what I want you to do,” the king hissed. “If by tomorrow morning you have not spun the straw into gold, well, I’m sure your head will fit quite nicely into one of these baskets instead.”
My blood ran cold. It is one thing knowing you will die, but another completely to hear about the disposal of your remains.
“Spinning straw into gold is impossible! I could never do such a thing. No one can!” I pleaded.
“I suggest you figure it out. Spin for your freedom. That will be your prize. Otherwise, I will kill you and have your carcass nailed to a stake so the entire kingdom will see what I do to liars.”
I grew dizzy and thought I might vomit. My limbs shook, and I couldn’t stop thinking that death awaited me in the morning. I slumped against the spinning wheel, scrabbling to hold onto it and losing my footing as the wheel betrayed me and rolled, sending me stumbling into the straw. The king only laughed, and it made me hate him more than I knew possible.
“Don’t look so glum! I know my methods may be harsh, but I do what’s necessary to get the results I desire. You seem to need some motivation, and I have learned that death is the greatest motivation of all.”
He gently ran a finger down my throat, “But I must admit, it would pain me greatly to sever such a beautiful neck.”
My stomach twisted as a shiver ran through my body, blood draining from my veins. I was forced to double over in agony, unable to breath. I wrapped my arms around my middle and dry heaved.
“Come, come, I’m sure it won’t come to that,” the king said, his lips cracked in a terrifying, gargoyle grin. “I suggest you focus your energy on the task at hand rather than self-pity if you want to be done by morning.”
He departed, his shadow retreating behind him up the spiral staircase, leaving me alone to my kingdom of straw. A fresh wave of panic rippled through me as a thunderous bolt and lock echoed down from the iron door. I was sealed in. Entombed.
Frantically, I waded into the sea of straw to find a way out. One had to exist, it just had to be unearthed. A million sharp little ends pricked my skin, but the straw was too deeply packed against the walls for me to reach them. Refusing to surrender, I dove my hands within the thick jungle of twigs until I felt the cold stone beneath. I ran my hands quickly along the deep grooves of mortar, searching for some opening, some forgotten crevice that might lead to freedom. The needle-like straw bit my fingertips and scratched my hands until I stained the yellow twigs red with blood.
I would’ve kept searching until my hands were nothing but bone and sinew, the drive for survival hammering in my chest. However, as the hours passed, I finally began to accept the truth. There was no passage, no crevice, no way out except the heavy metal door atop the staircase.
I was completely trapped.
Resigned, I fell down into the straw. I put a hand to my neck, imagining the cold blade slicing my flesh, and then my head toppling down from the executioner’s stand until it lay at the feet of the king. Lifting his trophy to a cheering crowd, he would remind them all of the penalty for boasting a lie.
The flicker of light danced across the treacherous landscape, my vision clouded by tears as the scenario played through my mind without end. Blade. Blood. Cheers.
If only my father had kept his mouth shut!
Wiping my eyes, I imagined the color of the straw growing more vibrant, the torchlight causing it to appear as burning flames.
My heart pounded. I saw a way to escape the fate chosen for me.
One spark from the torch would set the entire room ablaze, the inferno engulfing my body along with the mountains of straw, robbing the king the joy of his example.
I stared at the torch. The flames licked at the air, desiring to be fed. I could only imagine how quickly my skirts would ignite. Curious of the sensation of what burning to death would be like, I let my hand hover over the fire. Scorching pain flooded over my skin, causing me to gasp in surprise. It would be savage, but at least the results would be assured.
The king would return to nothing but ash.
It seemed such an easy thing to decide. Breathing slowly, I took the torch from the wall and marched towards the nearest hill of straw. The flames rejoiced at the feast waiting beneath them. Closing my eyes, I prepared to take destiny in my own hands. All I had to do was release my grip, and the nightmare would cease.
“Now why would you want to do a silly thing like that?” an amused voice asked behind me.
I spun around, shocked and confused as to who would be speaking to me in this locked cell.  The torch slipped from my grasp and fell towards the straw, but a hand snatched it out of the air before it lit everything in flames.
“Determined to be stupid,” the voice grumbled.
I expected to see one of the king’s guards checking on my progress. Instead, I found a most peculiar man. He couldn’t have been more than eight-and-twenty. Black hair framed a defined face with a pale complexion. He was tall but thin, wearing a tight fitting black doublet and pants. A white shirt peeked out of his collar and sleeves. Though his mouth smiled, his gray eyes held storms.
“Who…who are you?” I asked.
“Obviously someone who is keeping you from making a rather poor decision,” he quipped, walking towards me with a firm step and placing the torch back where it belonged. “You must really hate it here to be so desperate to burn yourself up. You do know there are more pleasant ways to kill oneself?”
He stared at me, waiting for an answer. I was unable to reply, still trying to comprehend how this strange man was down here with me at all.
With a shrug, he moved past me over to the spinning wheel. He ran his long finger down the wheel, turning it and producing a happy purr from the machine.
“You see, I sensed you might be in need of some assistance. You must forgive the impertinence, but that’s what I do, and by the looks of things, it appears my instincts were correct.” His penetrating gaze chilled me.   
“Are you here to rescue me?” I asked. It sounded stupid even as I said it, but I could see no other reasonable question to ask.
He laughed. “In a manner of speaking, though I think it might be in a different way than you are hoping.”
In an instant, he was standing before me, my eyes hardly able to follow the speed with which he moved. My heart hammered in a new flush of panic. What sort of man was this?
Placing a hand over his own heart he gave a small bow, continuing, “I’m here to offer my services. I just happen to have quite the talent for spinning straw into gold.”
For three seconds I felt I had been granted a miracle. But hard, cold reality stopped such foolishness, reminding me that this stranger’s offer was not feasible.
“You mock me. How do you expect me to believe something so impossible?” I demanded. “No one can do that.”
“You are the logical sort, aren’t you? I like that,” he said, nonchalantly plucking a twig from my hair, inspecting it under his slender nose. “If logic is what you desire, then you must realize it is already quite impossible that I am down here with you at all, and yet, here I am! I defy reason. Don’t you think you at least owe me the courtesy to prove my skill?”
It aggravated me unreasonably that his point was valid. I hadn’t heard one click of the lock or squeal of the hinges announcing his entrance. Somehow, he’d managed to appear out of thin air.
“All right,” I agreed, still hesitant as to his means and motives, but viscerally curious to watch his reaction when he inevitably failed.
He was already positioned at the spinning wheel before the words left my mouth, stretching his fingers. There was not a single indication of doubt or trepidation in his manner. Poise emanated from him.
“Prepare to be dazzled,” he smirked, removing a bobbin from one of the baskets and slipping it into place with an odd kind of delicacy. 

Soul Discovery by SJ Cairns
Sophie Saterlee has made it her mission to get her life together. Leaving behind an abusive relationship, she's bartending her way through a psychology degree. Ultimate goal? A new, stronger sense of identity.

When a terrifying recurring nightmare begins to poison Sophie’s waking hours and threaten all her progress, once again she’s close to losing everything.
An invitation to a tea leaf reading party sounds like exactly the kind of distraction Sophie needs. But an innocent girls' night out turns into a journey through a complex and treacherous world of magic. 
To survive it, Sophie must forge uncomfortable alliances with arrogant Donovan and mysterious Caine. One of them is tied to her past, and the other fills her present. Both men might hold the key to her uncertain future. 
There's more going on in her little corner of the world than Sophie realizes, and the truth will change everything.
https://www.amazon.com/Soul-Discovery-Seer-Chronicles%60-Book-ebook/dp/B01M7P6SBL/
Exclusive Excerpt
Why am I here?

I turned around, searching through the rain for the exit to the street above. The soles of my feet were numb, submerged below rapidly rising water. I lifted a foot, but had to sink it back into the dark water, the crunch of gravel now only a slight pressure against my skin. The creek was flooding into the park, water rushing toward me. Debris from the trees wrapped around my ankles as the stink of the creek wafted into the stirring air. The rain and wind battered the blanket of liquid taking over the park, while an uncomfortable tingle grew up my calves. Cold took root within my body.

A shudder skittered along my spine and crawled under my skin as my panic intensified. This wasn’t just the wind or the rain, or even the cold. The hyper-vigilance of someone watching me had my eyes open wide despite the rain.

I spun around, looking for what had me in its sights. Seeing nothing through the pouring rain but trees in the darkness, the feeling grew into an urgency to escape.

This urgency should have got me moving. Instead I froze, unable to will my body to listen to my brain.

Whatever was in that darkness was close.

Too close.

At my back.

Can I run fast enough to get away? Not with the water now up to my knees. Should I run for the safety of the stairs or confront the thing? Every muscle quivered in fear of either choice. Like a frightened child, I snapped my eyes closed, wishing for a blanket to hide under.

Gathering my gumption, I held my breath and slowly turned around. Tense moments passed as my lungs burned. Still with my eyes closed, I felt the presence move closer. I had no doubt something was there.

Come on, Sophie. I goaded myself into rummaging up a hint of courage.

As soon as I peered through my lashes, the black mass in front of me made my heart stutter. No distinguishable features were illuminated. There was no way of knowing what it was, but its oppressive size made me want to sink into the water now grazing my thighs. I shivered.

Terrified curiosity made me fully open my eyes. The darkness rushed forward, and the shock of seeing, yet not seeing what was coming for me, woke me up with a gut-wrenching scream.

Forget Me Not by Allison Whitmore
Theodora “Teddi” Donovan and Calvin Wynne have always hated each other. They didn't have a choice after Teddi's bootlegger father killed Calvin's and left them both orphaned. The scandal has fueled gossip in quiet, quaint Brookhurst, New York, for over a decade. When a friendship develops between them as teenagers, they are ridiculed and shunned by the strict society that dictates life in their town. As they grow older, friendship turns into love, and Teddi and Calvin have to choose between their future and the specter of their past. Spanning continents and decades, Forget Me Not is a coming-of-age story about truth, self-reliance, and the freeing power of love.

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