Welcome to my blog, it is mostly about books, I host promo's for promotion companies, I do reviews and Interviews, and sometimes guests posts. I read many genres, but my favorites are Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Fantasy, Epic Fantasy, YA Fantasy, Historical Romances and Dystopian.
That’s all Layla cares about. Not healing from the Fomore attack. Not finding answers to how she survived a fall that nearly killed her. Nothing will stop her. She will find him. She’ll even pair up with an overbearing Fallen Angel who’s hell bent on making everything harder than it needs to be if she has to.
For Max, nothing else matters. Not the bruises covering his body. Not the pain radiating from his broken bones. Not even his hands tied behind his back. He will find a way to save Layla, and the Fomore will pay if they’ve hurt her.
Every. Single. One of them.
In the second installment of The Fire Born trilogy, a new breed of villain looms—one Layla and Max will never suspect, and this killer has nothing to lose. Better yet, with Max and Layla’s deaths, victory is in the grip of the enemy.
Will Max and Layla find each other in time, or is it already too late for them both?
About the Author
With a passion for the supernatural and all things magical, Laney developed a voracious appetite for reading fantasy at a young age. A vivid imagination helped set the stage for creating her own worlds and placed her onto the writing path.
By the time she reached her teens, she'd accumulated notebooks full of poems, which led to short stories and finally novels. Young adult dark fantasy, paranormal romance, and mythology are among her favorite genres.
A former classical dancer and chef, she grew up in sultry Florida where she still resides with her family.
Sunlight seared my face, and my fingers dug into hot sand before a cool shade fell over me. “Teine?” A soft voice called my name. Someone pulled on my arm. My head lolled to the side, but my neck caught on a crick and refused to move further than a couple of inches. “Teine? Can you hear me?” Soft wisps tickled my face, even as my head pounded above my left ear. My eyelids opened and closed, scratching against the corneas like sandpaper—my mouth dry, like paste. Though blurry, a figure loomed over me. “We have to go. Hold on to me.” A gentle squeeze of my hand made my fingers flex. “Max …” My voice cracked, word slurred; my tongue seemed too large for my mouth. I raised my arm, but it thumped to the ground at my side with the weight of a lead pipe. “Shh. Do not let go.” My heavy arms swung up on their own. I attempted to clasp my hands, to entwine my fingers, but they slipped back down to my sides with a dead thud. Vision refusing to cooperate, my eyes slipped in and out of focus. “What … happened?” “You will be all right.” “Max?” “Shh. Save your strength.” Oh, god. Max. I fell … We fell. It was so hot. Too hot, and …