Hey guys, I'm super excited to share this book with you!
Paramount
Thirty Minutes to Heartbreak, Book 1
Thirty Minutes to Heartbreak, Book 1
Nadia
Scrieva
Genre: Fantasy/Romance
ISBN: 1477618392
ASIN: B008E08AXW
Number of pages: 375
Word Count: 98, 000
eBook is
free on most websites Amazon BN iTunes Smashwords Kobo
Book Description:
Book Description:
A goddess hell-bent on revenge...
Pax Burnson is the descendant of devas. She has
vowed to live her life without practicing her powers, but recent events have
overturned her entire existence. Thorn Kalgren has been the love of her life
since she was fourteen -- he helped her to heal after the loss of her parents.
As a close family friend, he is one of a select few who understand and share
her unique heritage. His recent betrayal has released a violence within her
that she cannot restrain.
While her first instinct is to escape and forget,
her aimless road trip is interrupted by a childhood friend in need. An idea
strikes Pax as she sees her own pain reflected in Thorn's sister, Amara
Kalgren. She is suddenly filled with a new, all-consuming purpose: vengeance.
She believes there is nothing else left.
Using ancient magick and enlisting Amara's help,
Pax orchestrates a complex, drawn-out plan to deceive and emotionally destroy
her former lover. The friendship and loyalty between the two girls becomes
fortified and unshakable as they venture down a dark and twisted path together,
encountering formidable roadblocks and demons.
It soon becomes clear to Pax that everything she
has been led to believe about her powers and her past was shaped by blatant
lies. When she discovers that Thorn's infidelity is closely linked with her
mother's death, she is forced to make a life-altering decision...
About the Author:
Nadia Scrieva lives
in Toronto, Canada with no husband, no kids, and no pets. She does own a very
attractive houseplant which she occasionally remembers to water between her
all-consuming writing marathons.
Links:
Website: www.NadiaScrieva.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/NadiaFans
Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/NadiaScrieva
Good Reads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5449630
Click read more to check out an excerpt from Paramount!
Chapter 1: Defying the Laws
A feminine hand clad in a fingerless
leather glove pulled a hard left on the steering wheel, maneuvering to avoid a
car that had swerved into the way at the last second. The woman's face remained
emotionless, but she felt anger rise up inside of her at the other driver’s
reckless act. She raised her hand, palm facing forward and fingers spread apart
as she breathed deeply.
“Oh, I could just…”
She could see the flow of heat emanating
from her volcanic center, obliterating the other car and its driver in mere
moments—and then, perhaps, continuing on to clear out the highway for the next
few dozen miles. Her windshield began to crack. No. She abruptly stopped visualizing the gratifying havoc she could
wreak if she released all the pent up power which hummed at her fingertips. The
temptation was too great, and she immediately closed her fist and returned it
to the steering wheel.
She grimaced, fighting to control her
twitching fingers, and forcing them back down onto the Jeep’s steering wheel
placidly. Regret coursed through her, and she acknowledged that she would need
to replace her windshield again. A foul smell reached her nostrils, causing her
forehead to crease. She glanced down at the bruised, tanned knuckles visible
through little oval holes in her worn gloves. Smoke was drifting up from
between her fingers as her heated palms burned into the rubbery-plastic
material of the steering wheel. She felt
sick at the stench.
Thorn.
How could you?
The heart of her anger wasn't caused by
reckless drivers. It was the lingering sting of betrayal. Startling her, a cell
phone buzzed against her hip, and she fought the instant urge to crush it like
a pesky insect. Was it him calling?
She hadn’t answered her phone in weeks. Why would anyone still bother to call?
Thorn
in my side, thorn in my brain.
The sections of the steering wheel she
gripped had finally melted completely. Yet another part of the Jeep would need
to be replaced. Luckily, her mechanic no longer asked questions. She removed
her hands from the wheel and tried to wipe the sticky substance off her gloves.
Giving up, she interlocked her fingers together before resting them in her lap.
She continued steering with only her mind. She enjoyed driving with just her
thoughts. She liked the idea that her body was flying through the air, and
direction was controlled by her mere intent. It reminded her of what made her
special: this inherited telekinetic ability. The ability she had promised her
family never to use. The phone rang again.
The feminine posture of having her hands
clasped demurely in her lap brought a sardonic smile to her face. The only
thing which had ever been feminine about Pax was her long black hair. She had
taken great pride in being able to sit on the lustrous mass, and had enjoyed
the competitive factor of being able to say that hers was longer than that of
any woman she knew, and almost all women she met. (In retrospect, tying her ego
to the length of a physical extension of her body had not been completely
feminine.) Even then, it had always hung in tangled, messy waves which she had
hardly ever brushed.
It was only a month ago that she had
shorn it all off. She still felt awkward when she turned to check her
blind-spot and did not have a pound of tresses rolling over her shoulders
comfortingly. She still felt like something was missing when the window of her
Jeep was open, and the harsh wind did not whip unruly strands into her eyes.
She felt naked without these little luxuries. Pax had not realized that her
hair had been her security blanket—and once she did realize this, she had
quickly introduced it to a pair of garden shears.
Pax wanted to stop depending on external
substances for strength. She was sure that she could find a greater confidence inside
her that had nothing to do with her hair, her car, or her lover.
She had depended far too much on him.
Her phone was still pulsating against
her hip annoyingly. She did not want to look at the name on the caller ID, but
her mind was already sliding the phone from its holster and lifting it to hover
at her eye level. She glanced away from the road for a moment to warily read
the letters. Amara Kalgren. It was
only half of the name that she most feared seeing. It was the sister of the man
who betrayed her.
She had no wish whatsoever to speak to
the blond woman. It was a pity really, since she loved and respected Amara. The
two had been very close when they were younger, and in recent years they had
occasionally double-dated since Amara was also seeing a relative of hers. Pax
felt a bittersweet smile tug her lips as she thought of her silly uncle Asher.
Their families had grown up together, and the Kalgren kids had always been
loyal friends. When families shared secrets such as theirs, they tended to stay
together. Pax had not spoken to her favorite couple in far too long, because
her uncle was exceedingly close to her ex-boyfriend. She could endure no
reminders of what she had lost. Any contact with Amara or Asher would be
chock-full of painful reminders and would inevitably lead to contact with
exactly what she was trying to avoid.
Releasing her focus on the phone, she
allowed it to fall against her thigh. She looked ahead at the highway, and
cursed when she saw the sea of red brake-lights appearing. She willed the dial
that controlled the volume of her speakers to turn up the music to the maximum.
She closed her eyes and let the sound bombard her ears as she sat still in
traffic. Pax did not really have anywhere to go, but driving endlessly along
the highway made her feel like she was going somewhere. It made her feel like
she was getting away, although she was quickly finding that the continent was
not large enough to escape the older Kalgren sibling. She had been sleeping in
her car and on uncomfortable motel beds as she tried to escape her disgrace,
but her rest was littered with fitful nightmares while her waking hours were
tormented with frequent involuntary memories.
A vibration against her thigh caused her
to peer down. She scowled at her phone. Amara hardly ever called at all; this
was an old signal from their youth. Double-calling. Twice in a minute was a
true sign of emergency. Pax jabbed her
canines into her bottom lip, chewing as she considered taking the call. There
might be a crisis. Something could have happened to her uncle Asher. She turned
off the music telekinetically. Unlocking her hands and sliding her pinky finger
tentatively across her thigh, Pax used the tip of her nail to press the green
button.
“Yes?” she asked curtly. For a moment
she was seized by an intense panic that it might be Thornton calling from his
sister’s phone. She held her breath, reassuring herself that he would never
stoop that low. But then, there was
precious little she knew about the depths to which he would stoop.
A small voice on the other end whispered
a usually-upsetting diminutive of her name. “Paxie…”
Pax slammed her skull back into the
headrest and cursed. Although she had not been especially close to Amara in the
past decade, she could recognize the helplessness and despair in her friend’s
soft plea. They had been infants together, followed by childhood playmates. She
knew Amara’s every emotion as though it were her own, and although she had no
inkling of what happened, she instinctively knew that this must be the worst
kind of disaster. Her heart leapt into her throat as she imagined the worst
case scenario—had her foolish Uncle Asher somehow gotten himself killed?
“I’m on my way,” Pax said into the phone
before hanging up. She glanced at her GPS to get a sense of her location, and
cursed again. Her aimless, wandering circles had taken her three states away
from Amara’s beachfront home. Three states and at least fifteen hours. An idea
struck her: the Jeep was a mess anyway, so perhaps she could abandon it and
travel with her mind.
Pulling over into a ditch, Pax took
several deep breaths to concentrate. She
had only successfully done this a handful of times in her life—usually in
emergencies when it was most necessary. This was an emergency, and surely she
would be able to focus enough to move her body across the distance
instantaneously. It was only one small body—she could lift much larger objects
without any effort. She reached into her passenger seat and slipped her wrist
under her purse before beginning.
Pax placed the palm of her right hand
firmly against her solar plexus. She took a deep breath, visualizing her
destination. She placed her left hand beside her right hand, forming the shape
of a heart with her fingers. Her head begin to spin as her body begun
dematerializing, starting at her core. For a moment, she was immaterial, and
floating in nothingness.
A tickle of fear caused her to gasp, and
she immediately found herself falling butt-first onto the hood of her Jeep.
“Shit! I suck at this,” she muttered,
looking around to see if anyone had noticed her blunder. Grumbling, she rolled
off the hood of her Jeep, wiping the dirt off her pants. Many insects had been
slain with her speed in the past few days, and now their corpses were
decorating her jeans. Pax swore repeatedly as she picked up her purse from the
mud near the wheel of her car. She considered traveling by air, but there were
too many people nearby. She climbed back into her Jeep, and slammed the door,
upset with herself for her own inadequacy at using the technique which was
supposed to be her birthright.
It was often her downfall that she tried to obtain everything she
desired instantaneously.
Digging her key into the ignition, she
jammed her foot on the gas pedal and began driving on the rough, potholed
shoulder. She flew by the stopped cars on the highway, disregarding the dozen
rules she was probably breaking. If she could not be successful in bending the
laws of nature, then at the very least, she could satisfy herself in defying the
laws of the road.
* * *
“Mara! Where are you? Is everything
okay? Amara!”
Pax felt sick. It had taken ten hours,
but she had driven directly to Amara’s waterfront home, stopping only once for
gas. Seeing her friend’s Jaguar in the driveway, she had let herself in. Now,
as she moved from room to room on the hunt for the blonde woman, she was
growing alarmed. She considered calling, but it was faster just to lift the
palm of her hand.
“Pilot me to thine light,” Pax chanted
softly. The incantation was not necessary, but it helped her to focus. Soon
enough, she found herself being subliminally led to her friend’s bedroom. Amara
was still nowhere to be seen, so she continued to follow the guiding energy to
the ensuite bathroom.
Upon touching the doorknob, Pax recoiled
as the strong scent of her uncle overwhelmed her senses before the door was
even fully open. Terror flooded her breast as she imagined Asher’s corpse
sprawled out on the floor. Her gloved hand flew to cover her mouth before she
had even seen a body. A déjà vu swept over her as she recalled finding her dead
mother when she was just a teenager. The scent was familiar—it was not only
Asher, but his blood.
Pax felt her heart skip a beat as it
ached with love for her uncle. She expected to see him lying there dead, but
she still moved into the room with determination. Asher was nowhere to be seen,
but a small blonde woman was huddled in a corner of the shower stall. Amara was
completely naked. Pax swallowed back her fear before she took in the
surroundings. Amara’s fashionable clothes were strewn all over the floor, and
there was dark blood which had dried as it had been dripping down the glass
doors of the shower stall.
“Amara, are you hurt?” Pax immediately
moved to comfort her friend, crawling into the shower stall and crouching
beside her. Pax spotted Amara’s cell phone sitting in a pool of water nearby.
It was amazing that the thing hadn’t short-circuited, but then again, it was
Kalgren technology.
“Mara?” Pax asked in a soft voice,
reaching out to brush her friend’s hair off her face. She was surprised to find
that Amara’s hair was perfectly dry. Her skin was perfectly dry. There was
hardly any water in the shower stall, except for a few small pools gathered at
the bottom. It must have been hours since the shower was used.
“How long have you been like this?
Amara! Talk to me!” said Pax firmly. Hearing no response she desperately sent
her message directly into her friend’s mind. Has something happened to Ash? Please, please, Mara. Please tell me
that my uncle is fine. I hardly have any family left. Is he…
Amara snapped out of her little daze and
looked up at her friend. “Ash?” she asked dumbly. “He’s fine.”
“Thank Sakra,” Pax said, referring to
the god of gods. She allowed herself to fall from her raised position on her
ankles to a seated position on her bottom, ignoring the pools of water beneath
her. She released a gush of air. “Is this your blood?”
The blonde woman stared forward for a
moment silently.
Pax began to frown as her worry began to
be replaced with anger. “Did Ash hurt you? Because if he…”
“No,” Amara responded softly. “When he
touches me, he is always gentle. So tender. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Pax rolled her eyes at this description.
Were they talking about the same man? Her annoyingly powerful uncle who had
wrestled her toys away with his mind before she could even walk? “Maybe he
wouldn’t,” Pax agreed, “but he certainly could. Did he?”
“No.”
“Sure. He didn’t hurt you. That’s why
you’ve been sitting naked in the corner of a blood-soaked shower stall for
god-knows how many hours!”
Amara looked at her friend for the first
time. “Oh, Paxie. Where’s all your beautiful hair?”
Pax was already reaching up to search
for it before she remembered. She scowled. “Don’t call me that, Amara. We’re
not five anymore. And don’t change the subject. What the hell happened?”
Amara’s eyes lowered again. “I did
something bad.”
Glancing up at the bloody shower walls
in confusion, Pax frowned. “What did you do?” She knew that Amara was not
strong enough to harm her uncle, physically or psychically. She reached out to
grasp the girl’s shoulder and give it a firm shake. “Mara. Hey, hey! What did
you do?”
“I don’t know. He left me.”
“He what?”
Pax repeated in shock. Asher and Amara were the most solid couple she knew.
Every birthday and holiday, she and Thornton would always… she could not finish
the thought. Her anger at her own lover was beginning to seep into thoughts of
her uncle by extension.
Amara turned to Pax with wounded
innocence in her clear blue eyes. “He said he just wanted to… have me one last
time. Then he walked away.”
Pax felt comprehension dawn on her as
she took in the state of the bathroom. “So… he fucked you and then he left
you?”
The blonde woman was as still as death.
“Do I deserve this? I don’t understand.”
Rage flushed Pax’s body with warmth as
the anger blossomed inside her again. She clenched her fists. Even after all
this, Amara refused to say a negative thing about Asher. She refused to condemn
him for hurting her, and she chose to believe that it was somehow her fault.
While Pax loved her uncle to pieces, she could not make sense of his actions.
Asher often followed the wrong company (Thornton) and this has often influenced
him negatively and gotten him into all kinds of trouble.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Pax
reassured her friend. She reached out to rub her gloved hand over Amara’s naked
back. “I’ll stay with you, okay? We’ll get through this together.”
Amara felt the familiar waves of heat
radiating from Pax’s hand and lifting her hair. She felt a small smile touch
her lips. She hadn’t realized that she had been so cold. The warmth of the dark
haired woman’s angry energy surrounded Amara's skin like a comforting blanket.
As her lips curled they cracked, revealing how dry they had become from the
salty tears that had been running over them for so many hours.
“Thank you, Pax,” said Amara softly.
“What for?” she asked.
“For being here. I needed you.”
Pax felt guilt wash over her when she
remembered that she had been ignoring Amara's phone calls. It’s partly
my fault she’s like this. If I had been a better friend… Gah! I should have
flown here instead of driving when my teleportation didn’t work. As she
stared at the small blonde woman who was deathly pale, Pax began to form a vow
in her mind. Uncle or not, she would not allow Asher to hurt her friend like
this and get away scot-free. She would find a way to make sure that he was the
one sitting on the floor and broken. She did not realize that she was fusing
her own pain with Amara’s and transferring it to a different man. Asher will regret the day he did this to
her. She’s the last person who deserved this. Amara is so sweet and loving—not
bitter and vengeful like me. She was always so true and devoted. I’ll make
Asher pay. I’ll hurt him so deeply, and so terribly that it will ruin his
already ruined life. Damn you, Thorn!
I mean Ash...
Pax saw a single tear run down Amara’s
face and it snapped her out of her guilt and anger. She put her arms around the
blonde woman and held her close, ignoring that she was naked. Amara leaned
against Pax’s shoulder and let the tears fall freely.
oh ma gosh that cover is just hot, literally :) thanks for sharing
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