She’s an ordinary girl with a nightmare problem…or is she?
by C.J. Burright
My rating: 5 stars
Series: The Dreamcaster Series – Book 1
Publication Date: October 27, 2015
Publisher: C.J. Burright
Genre: Paranormal Urban Fantasy
Print Length: 268 pages
DREAMS CAN BE DEADLY
She’s an ordinary girl with a nightmare problem.
For as long as she can remember, Kalila Montgomery has been tormented by
creatures from her nightmares. Doomed to a solitary life with a herd of
cats, she’s determined to go down fighting. Until the man of her
dreams—literally—kidnaps her and claims to know a cure. If only she
He’s not your average supernatural hero.
Lydon v’al Endrian will stop at nothing to be free of the V’alkara, a
dangerous brotherhood who feed on dreams. But the key to his freedom,
sassy dreamcaster Kalila, might be his toughest challenge yet. No matter
how much she protests, he intends to keep her safe from the
V’alkara…even if it requires the ultimate sacrifice.
Their love is forbidden.
Now on the run with a man she can’t quite trust or resist, Kalila must
decide—fight for her dream of a normal life? Or, embrace a power she
doesn’t want to save Lydon?
The jukebox song ended in a condemning silence. More than a
few customers watched her with suspicion and perhaps a hint of hostility. An
oily man in a dirty leather jacket muttered something to his companion,
glancing at her as if she might be the antichrist.
She pushed at a crumb on the table. “I’m not hungry
“Eat anyway.” Lydon bent his full concentration on devouring
his stew. “You’re too skinny. Whenever a strong gust comes up I expect you to
float away with the leaves.”
In other words, her boobs weren’t big enough. Kalila tore
off a chunk of bread. She stirred her soup in half-hearted interest, the
carrots, potatoes, and peas bobbing in crazy circles. How could she allow her
fascination for Lydon to take root, blossom, and ripen into fond feelings? For
a V’alkara? The man her night vision warned against?
The life of the restaurant resumed with a bright fiddle song
from the jukebox. Alun squeezed her shoulder. The concern filling his eyes made
her cringe. How did he always seem to know what she was feeling?
A low, ominous growl emerged from across the table.
Alun froze. The fine hair on the back of Kalila’s neck
lifted in warning.
Lydon towered above them both. In a snap, her nightmare had
come to life and murder hovered a second away. His voice seethed with
possessiveness. “We’re dancing.”
Before she could object, he shackled her wrist and towed her
onto the dance floor. He hauled her against him and noosed her back with one
arm. His free hand curled around her neck, controlling.
Her mouth went Death Valley dry. She was trapped, and not only
by the man caging her. Her feet had become leaden blocks, her legs wobbling
like wet noodles. What should she do with her hands? Resting them on his
marvelous chest again was a bad idea. Wrapping them around his back would be
the point of no return. She settled for placing her fists on his hips.
“I can’t bear to see anyone else touch you.” The velvet-soft
murmur drifted over her neck. He nuzzled the sensitive area beneath her ear and
Kalila swallowed hard, her skin two sizes too tight. She
wanted to surrender, to sink into him, if even for a moment. To know how it
felt. In ten minutes, an hour, tomorrow she could go back to reality.
His fingertips skimmed her throat and all outside noise
faded into the distance. He tightened his embrace, drawing her closer into his
“You win, Lils. I thought I could endure any torture
imaginable, but I can’t take this anymore.” The unsteadiness of his voice drew
her gaze to his. He leaned near until their noses almost met and cupped her
chin. His large, warm hand caressed her spine in a slow path, driving shivers
up and down her body.
Screw it. With a small sigh of defeat, she slipped her arms
around his waist and relaxed into his strength.
Lydon took a sharp breath and his eyes flared, as if he was
surprised. Which made no sense. It shouldn’t shock him to know she wanted him
like every other woman in the world.
“Kalila.” He sounded strangely shaken. He grazed her mouth
with the pad of his thumb.
I blame my love for reading and all things Medieval on my father, who plied me often with fantasy novels ranging from Sir Lloyd Alexander to Piers Anthony. My love for romance, however, lies completely at the feet of my best friend Michelle, who dared to give me a romance novel for my birthday. I smiled, politely said thank you, and tossed it in the corner, where it gathered dust. In a moment of desperation, when only the revolting romance remained in my almost-always toppling stack of awaiting books, I sucked it up and read the romance. Doomed. I started writing fantasy and paranormal romance for the cathartic experience, decided I liked it, and after two overlong, horribly written novels joined RWA and the Fantasy, Futuristic & Paranormal special interest chapter. Best classes and critique groups ever. Double doomed. Now, writing is a necessity, not just a hobby.
In my spare time when I’m not writing or reading or actually working, I might be found in the dojang (4th Dan Black Belt, baby), rooting on the Mariners (who will some day win the World Series), working out (P90X, anyone?), gardening (a little dirt never hurt anyone), or playing Music of the Night on the piano (without mask or cape). I live in Oregon with my fabulous husband and daughter. Not to mention my minions, a herd of cats.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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