Blurb:
On Cleo’s first day at St. Aloysius Gonzaga Academy, things get pretty weird pretty fast. After being confronted by a strangely hostile boy, she meets two girls and instantly bonds with them. Before long danger threatens the entire student body, in the form of a soul eating possessor fae. When her brother is savagely beaten and left in a coma, the girls decide to use their fae powers to become superheroes and stop the possessions.
They quickly learn things are a lot more complicated than they had ever imagined. A government plot that had begun when they were infants endangers them all, and a demented former soldier bent on revenge is after them. The line between friend and foe has become so blurry, Cleo has no idea who she can trust. Will their superhero plot help them save the day, or just get them killed?
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Excerpt
My tongue played in the hollow of one of my canines as I
debated whether or not to seize the opportunity. I wanted to know more about
Logan and what his deal was, but not at the expense of this boy who was
obviously suffering from his ties. My desire for information won. “Logan isn’t
an easy guy to be friends with, is he?”
Sawyer deflated. “He didn’t used to be like this. He was a
pretty good guy once.” He started walking back the way he’d come. “Now he seems
to be all hate.”
I fell into step beside him. “Did something happen?”
He stopped, his eyes meeting mine. They were a washed-out
green, but as I watched a hint of a red glow crept into them. He blinked hard,
rubbing the closed lids. “Contacts,” he mumbled.
I got close to him, speaking in a low voice for his ears
only. “I don’t think it is contacts. I think it’s fae.”
His eyelids flew up and there was no doubt about it. The
irises moved like liquid, glowing in reds and oranges. The only word I could
think of to describe it was lava. My hand flew to my throat and I took an
involuntary step backwards. All fae had a tell—like my glow or Antonio’s skin
ripple. I’d just found his. A voice I didn’t recognize rasped out of my own
throat. “What are you?”
“You faced down Logan, who’s a Metus Daemon—the basis of the
mythical fear demon—and I freak you out?” He snorted and shook his head.
“I just wasn’t prepared, sorry. Is this entire school fae?”
“Not the entire school.”
I laughed as we started walking again. “So seriously, what
happened?”
Sawyer shrugged. “I don’t know. Until this year, sure he was
a little cranky. He’s raising his little sister, so who could blame him. But
toward the end of the summer he started going on and on about living ‘his glory
days’ and it’s like he’s another person. When it’s just me and him at his house
he’s normal, but then it’s like someone flips a switch and I’m putting out
fires. I suppose who better to put out fires than a Vulcan.”
“Wait, like pointy-eared aliens?”
Sawyer snickered. “It’s only logical.” He flashed me a grin.
“Not that kind of Vulcan. More like volcanologist.”
“Oh, like volcanoes. So it was lava in your eyes.”
His shoulders rose and fell in an exaggerated shrug. “I
don’t wanna brag. What about you?”
“I’m more like astronomy.” My mouth twisted up into a grin.
“I’m a Stardancer.”
“Oh, so you’re like bottled supernova.”
About the Author:
Elizabeth has a near crippling Facebook addiction, dwarfed only by her need for Dr. Pepper. A self-proclaimed techno geek, she loves cell phones, computers, tablets and all things technological. The internet has to be the greatest invention since the wheel, in her opinion. She lives in a quiet subdivision with her husband, one-year-old son, three cats, and far too many electronics. It’s quite possible she has some raccoon in her DNA, because she loves glitter and anything that sparkles. She enjoys making jewelry and costumes. Halloween is her favorite holiday since it’s the one day of the year that you can be whatever you want.
But her first love will always be writing. Otherwise, hearing voices in her
head would make her feel schizophrenic.
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Chapel Ryan isn't crazy. At least,
that's what she's been trying to convince herself of for most of her life. But
after being hallucination-free for three years, Chapel finds herself facedown
on her English classroom’s gritty linoleum floor. When she looks up, everyone
around her is suspended in animation. Mouths hang open mid-yawn, feet hover
mid-cross, Ms. Freeman’s arm flexes mid-sentence diagram. It's another
hallucination. Or, is it? 
Holly was born and raised in a small town in North Georgia. The third of
four children, Holly grew up telling stories to get herself out of—and her
siblings into—trouble. When she was eight years old, she penned her first
publication: a newspaper called Sunny Dayz News. While she didn’t sell any
actual copies, her sympathetic grandmother did peruse through the edition at
least once.
