Becca Vincenza is my #oneclick author.  I love everything she writes! ~ Lynn 

What if a single act of rebellion had the power to change your fate? 

Rowan and Abel Hayes’ birth ended a centuries-old family curse, but being a curse breaker has its drawbacks. Now they live a life full of rules. 

When Rowan breaks a rule, she sets a powerful chain of events into motion that she never could’ve imagined. Abel is kidnapped, and it’s up to Rowan to save her twin. Can she rely on the aid of an old friend who once betrayed her? Or will new enemies prove too strong for her to handle? 

(New Adult, contains language and sexual content. 18+)

Wow. Just. Wow. I read this book in one sitting. Spent my Sunday propped in bed devouring the story. Yes, it is that good. I am a huge fan of Becca Vincenza's work. Seriously, she could write ingredients on a cereal box and I would read it.

Art of Death is a paranormal, urban fantasy, mystery, filled with secrets, betrayal and a smidge of romance all rolled into a fantatstic new series. I was enthralled from page one. As secrets are revealed the mystery grows as to who is after the twins Rowan and Abel. The target on their backs is massive. Everyone wants the Curse Breakers for their own agenda. 

I love the bond between Ro and Abel. They aren't just bother and sisier, but best friends. The tension between Ro and Indie, her ex -best friend and ex-boyfriend, is palpable. I need them to have a HEA! Are you listening, Becca? 

Rowan is my favorite character. She is witty, sassy, and ballsy as hell. I want to be her friend!

I cannot wait to see where this series goes.

Becca Vincenza lives in *wonderful* Michigan. For a passion of all things paranormal and adventure, she writes both in Urban Fantasy worlds, and Paranormal Romance. When she isn’t writing, she is reading and vice versa. ​

Stalk Becca:
https://beccavincenzaauthor.com/
https://www.facebook.com/beccavincenza
https://twitter.com/BeccaVincenza
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7278389.Becca_Vincenza
https://bit.ly/2FhxJB8

This may be a short story but it is not short on intensity.  A Brush with Death is a white knuckle, fast paced, thrill ride that left me me breathless and wanting more.  ~ Lynn 5 Stars

​A darkened road.  A truck-stop diner.  A chance meeting.
 
All Marisol Pedilla wanted was to make the drive to her aunt’s house without incident. Instead, she meets a woman named Sasha. Together, they encounter more misfortune than Marisol has ever experienced.
 
Danger and deception seem to be all too common in Sasha’s world, and it’s a world Marisol wants no part of. But fate has other plans. The secrets Sasha’s keeping from her could change Marisol’s life forever.

Chapter 1
 
I’d never been more thankful to be wearing jeans as I crawled around on the checkered floor of a truck-stop diner. It had to be here somewhere. “Mierda,” I cursed loudly as I smacked my head against the underside of the table. I climbed back into the booth, and the dark green vinyl squeaked in protest, sticking to the back of my legs. My stomach dropped as I dumped my purse out onto the table for a third time and rifled through the contents. I sighed. Yup, it was official. My wallet was missing, and I was screwed.
A waitress hurried towards me. She looked tired; dark shadows nestled under her eyes, and her mouth was turned down in a thin-lipped frown. “Have you decided yet, Honey?”
I looked up, panic fluttering hard in my stomach. The sizzle of food hitting the flat top caught my attention, its aroma flooding the tiny diner. Bacon. Possibly hash browns. My stomach growled, but spare change would only get me so far. “Uh, just coffee for now. Thanks.” I smiled politely then haphazardly shoved things back into my purse.
My hands felt grimy, and I grimaced. I threw my purse over my shoulder and pushed past incoming people towards the bathroom. I washed my hands twice. I didn’t know how it happened or where I could have lost it, but I knew what my mom was going to say when I called her. “I told you you were too young to drive to your aunt’s alone. I knew your brother should have gone with you.”
It didn’t matter that I was twenty-three. In her eyes, I wasn’t ready for so much responsibility, even though I’d been her shadow, her second in command for as long as I could remember. I knew I could handle this. While I’d never driven so far across the country before, I had the GPS on my phone and a printout of the directions in case that failed. What I didn’t factor in was bad luck, or maybe it was just my own stupidity.
Once I was sitting back in the booth, I rested my head on my arms. Exhaustion was tugging at my eyelids, making me sluggish, like I was dragging my body through water. I sat up, pushing my jet-black curls behind my ears. The lecture was coming no matter how long I put it off. I plucked my cell phone from my purse, but the screen stayed blank. I pushed the power button. Ugh, no charge. I picked up a menu instead, to avoid looking awkward, and glanced out the window.
The interior of the diner was tinged red from the glow of the neon sign hanging in it, providing some extra security against the inky darkness. It was already past midnight, and even once my phone was charged, it would still be too late to call.
I skimmed over the menu, not really taking it in. My stomach growled again, and I startled as I felt myself falling forward. I was hungry and tired, with no money and a lot of miles left to go. I wasn’t sure how, but there had to be some way I could manage to get to my aunt’s without my mom having to rescue me.
“You mind if I sit with you?”
I jumped again. I’d been so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t notice the woman come up to me. Her skin was a deep golden brown that reminded me of tiger’s-eye stones. Her voice was soft, but there was a hint of underlying smokiness. Tall, with a slender, athletic build, she looked imposing in a leather jacket and high-heeled boots. She had a long, angular face with full lips and high cheekbones, and her onyx hair billowed outward in an afro. I looked around. The diner was crowded but not completely full, and I failed to find a reason why a total stranger would try and sit with me.
She seemed to read my thoughts. “Hey, it’s cool. I thought it’d be nice to have some company, but I understand.”
She turned to go, and I felt a pang of remorse at my hesitation. I reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Wait!”
She turned back, and my heart flip-flopped. I ignored it. My fingers brushed against hers as I let go. “Sure, you can sit here.”
Her eyes widened, and the ghost of a smile showed on her face. It only lasted for a second, but the warmth of it seemed to make her brown eyes lighter. She slid into the seat opposite me. “Thanks. I’m Sasha.”
“Marisol.”
“So what brings you out this way, Marisol?”
Before I could answer, the waitress returned. “Would you like to order?”
Sasha glanced at me. “You haven’t ordered yet?”
I shook my head. “Just coffee.”
Sasha didn’t even bother looking at her menu. “I’ll have the western omelette, extra cheese, and she’ll have the pancakes with bacon.”
My face burned with embarrassment. “You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s the least I can do. Besides, you were staring at the picture so hard when I walked up; I thought you were going to burn a hole through the menu.”
My embarrassment deepened, and I looked away, desperately trying to think of anything else to talk about. “Do you come here often?” I mentally kicked myself. “I mean, I only ask because you seemed pretty sure of what you wanted.”
“No, not that often. I’ve passed through here a couple times though.”
I looked back to find her watching me, and I quickly dropped my eyes to the tabletop and fidgeted with the edge of the menu. “So, you do a lot of traveling?”
“You could say that, yeah.”
“For work?”
“Most of the time.”
“What kind of work do you do?”
This time it was Sasha’s turn to be interrupted. The waitress set two mugs in front of us and filled them. I moved my menu out of the way as she slid a steaming plate of pancakes in front of me. My mouth watered. “The rest of your order will be out in just a minute, hun,” she said to Sasha as she handed her a stack of buttered toast.
I grabbed three packets of sugar, ripped them open and dumped them into my coffee, along with two creams. I stirred, watching the color of it lighten to something more acceptable. Sasha’s gravelly laugh made me look up.
“You want any coffee with that?” I noticed she had left her own cup alone.
I smiled at her. “Not if I can help it.”
She shook her head as I drizzled syrup onto my pancakes and dipped a piece of crispy bacon in it. “So you never answered; what do you do for work?”
Sasha’s face fell, and I instantly regretted asking. The waitress brought her omelette. I waited as she cut into it. “This and that. Nothing worth talking about.”
I nodded. Conversation stopped for a few minutes as we ate. The neon sign flickered, and Sasha tensed. She stared out the window. I did the same, but beyond the procession of cars and trucks, I couldn’t see a thing. “What is it?”
“Nothing.”
But it didn’t seem like nothing. I watched as she shifted and reached for something I couldn’t see. The sleeve of her leather jacket lifted up, revealing a tattoo: a long-stemmed rose intertwined with a scythe.
“That’s beautiful.” I moved my plate out of the way so I could lean forward. “Would it be okay if I took a closer look?”
Sasha pulled her sleeve up some more and stretched her arm out towards me. I traced the lines with my eyes. “Why a scythe?”
“It’s a reminder.”
I looked up. Sasha’s gaze connected with mine, and my stomach lurched. I was scared to breathe. Scared to blink. Then she turned away, looking out the window again, and disappointment sank like a stone in my stomach.
“Marisol,” Sasha said sharply. “Get down!”
Hands grabbed my legs. I fell backwards, and my butt hit the floor. The window next to us exploded in a shower of jagged glass as the diner was plunged into darkness. 

​N.J. Ember is a paranormal fiction author who loves to write stories about survival and triumph over adversity. Whether her characters are dealing with the paranormal or everyday life, she seeks to show that strength is not always about being superhuman or invulnerable. She enjoys anything with mystery, suspense and horror, so when she’s not writing you can find her watching shows like Orphan Black, Penny Dreadful and Sherlock. She currently lives in Michigan with her grandpa and a forever growing collection of books and Funko Pop! figures.
 
Author Links:
Website: http://www.njember.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/njember.author
Twitter: https://twitter.com/nj_ember
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/njember.author/
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/ZP9iX
Amazon page: https://amzn.to/2mSliSg

High school sucks. It doesn’t matter who you ask; jock, cheerleader, computer nerd, or band geek, they will all say the same thing: It’s a nightmare. But Casey is still wondering how she got the short end of the stick. Just a Sophomore at the prestigious Luthos Academy for Magical Beings, Casey already knows more about heartache and fear than any almost-sixteen-year-old should. Orphaned and left to be raised by the Academy, she spends her days training to become a Guardian, but that dream is looking dimmer with every day that passes.Unlike the wand-waving heroines in all her favorite books, Witches in her world don’t cast spells, they are born wielding the power of nature: water, fire, earth, or air; powers Casey never developed. She’ll be lucky if they even allow her to take her final exams.
She is top of her training class, but that doesn’t keep her from being looked down upon by every other being at her school. All Casey wants is to be given a chance, instead she finds the only life she’s ever known targeted by an unfathomable evil. Thrust into the center of an age-old prophecy, a war is coming with Casey at the reins.
Will relying on her hard earned training be enough for her to make it out alive?

​Evading the Dark is the debut novel from E.M. Rinaldi and let me tell ya SHE NAILED IT! Relatable and defined characters. A fantastic storyline. It’s a home run. She ensnared me with the Prologue. From page one I was hooked as my mind searched for clues to Casey’s past. 

Speaking of Casey… Two words. Bad. Ass, I love her. Her snarkiness. Her combat skills. Her witty inner monologue. I just adore her.

Now let’s talk cliff hangers. E.M. Rinaldi left me slack jaw with my mouth gaping open and shaking my head. There must be more pages, right? Amazon had a glitch and lost a few pages. WRONG! But don’t let that be a turn off. This tale has action, suspense, murder and secrets galore. It simply wasn’t possible to put it all in one book. Rest assured, I will be stalking this author relentlessly until I get more.

​10 years earlier …
I should have known that something bad was going to happen, but at only six years old, I didn’t know how to put my feelings into words. At least, not those feelings. How was I supposed to tell mommy that something dark was following us; that I could feel its eyes on me while its hungry breath fogged up the window? I knew she wouldn’t understand, outside it was anything but dark. The sun was shining clear and bright and laughter trickled in from the barbeque next door. Why would she believe me, a kid, when what I felt was not reflected around us?
I should have told her anyway. I should have screamed it until she listened, because, as it turned out, she knew the darkness was there too.
Looking back, all the signs were there—blatantly so. It was a Sunday, the day that my mom always took me to the park. I loved those days. She would always have a new adventure planned for us: catching butterflies that we’d pretend were fairies or climbing trees that she made me believe were the tallest mountains.
But not that Sunday. I thought it was weird that she didn’t want to go outside, mommy loved being out with the trees, but I didn’t argue. I had my own reasons for not wanting to go out. And it wasn’t too bad in the house; true to form, mommy tried to play the night out like it was just another adventure.
“We’re really in a secret cave hunting for lost treasure,” she said.
She led me all around the house, making obstacles out of the furniture until we made it to the “treasure”—a fresh baked batch of brownies. The whole time I thought it was just a new game. It was my naivety that kept me from seeing how my mother moved a kitchen knife from its drawer to the counter, or how all the “obstacles” looked strategically placed.
I couldn’t tell then, but now it’s all too clear; she knew that something was coming. Or someone.
They came late in the night. We were halfway through The Lion King when there was a knock at the door. My mom turned off the movie and instantly knelt in front of me to quiet my cries of dismay. There was no explanation for why the movie was gone; she had no chance to give one. The knock at the door swiftly turned violent, with more blows sounding on the back door and surrounding windows.
I was ushered into the dark crevice where our couch met the wall. Almost too big to fit, I managed to squeeze in just as she ran to the kitchen and grabbed the knife. I heard her yell frantically into her phone as the harsh pounding became so vehement that it felt as if the whole house shook. Whether it’s because I was too young or unintentionally blocked it out, I can only remember bits and pieces of what she said.
“Eli, they’re here! Help! ... 120 Huckleberry …”
At one point I heard a splintering crack as one of the doors started to break. I crawled further into the crevice as my mom spoke faster.
“… not enough time! ... I’m so sorry. Take care of her.”
I never saw what happened next, but I remember every sound: the high pitch of our glass windows shattering, the harsh moan and crack as the already fragmented door gave way, followed closely by my mom’s scream. And I heard what I now recognize as the sound of a fight. I sometimes dream that my mom won that fight and came to get me and everything was okay. But that’s not how it happened.
The fighting ended in an eerie silence. I almost crawled out of my hiding spot, but even my undeveloped instincts could tell that I wasn’t alone. Whoever was still there was looking for something. Before I knew it, it was silent yet again, but this time it was real. This time, it was forever.
 

​E.M. Rinaldi lives in Charlotte, North Carolina with her fiancé, Milz, and their slightly psychotic pup, Boone. She works as a Registered Radiologic Technologist,taking pictures of mangled bones for hours on end- then she writes about all the bizarre situations her characters get themselves into while she was away. She is a Second Degree Blackbelt and can’t write a story without at least one fight scene in it.

When she’s not writing or trapped at work, E.M. likes to read (obsessively), clear her DVR, and have all night Buffy marathons with her friends, complete with cookies and cinnamon rolls. 
Her love for writing stems from an early age where she would create stories on an old computer program and force anyone within grabbing distance to read them. Not much has changed; be warned: stay out of grabbing distance.
​
E.M. is a new YA author and her debut novel, Evading The Dark, is available now. ​

Author links:
https://www.facebook.com/EvadingTheDark
https://www.emrinaldi.com/
https://twitter.com/E_M_Rinaldi
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14410127.E_M_Rinaldi

Lynn's Review
5 Stars

We all know the story of Ariel in The Little Mermaid. I had preconceived notions about Vanessa going in. But as her story unfolded, I couldn't help but trumpet her cause. In a way only Rourke can she weaves and turns the tide so that the villain is the one you find yourself championing behind. I will never look at The Little Mermaid the same way.

Rise of the Sea Witch opens with the absolute best prologue ever! It vividly played out in my mind like a Disney movie and you can't help but read it in a sing song Ursula voice. Go ahead. Try it.

This novel is going to make Stacey Rourke a household name. If you thought she painted a ghastly story that leapt from the pages in the Legends Saga, wait to see her flowery prose paint a world under the sea in Rise of the Sea Witch.

*ARC received from author in exchange for an honest review. This did not affect or influence my review.