(Dis)Content by Melissa Haag
(Judgement of the Six #5)
Publication date: November 24th 2015
Genres: Paranormal Romance, Young Adult
I hate. I thought I hated before the letter, before the werewolves, but now I understand that was nothing more than a chip on my shoulder. The urbat took what was mine. They will pay.
Isabelle leads a very normal life…for an emotional syphon. If not for Ethan and his bar, she would have lost her sanity long ago. But everything changes with the crash of her fighting cage and a man who transforms into a wolf. There’s something about Carlos—when he’s not growling at her—that makes her do things she wouldn’t normally do, like sigh and daydream.
Attraction aside, she is faced with the very real evidence that werewolves and urbat exist, and the urbat are after her. And the only way she can keep Ethan safe is to join with the werewolves and Carlos. It’s a race against time to stop a war, fight for love, and find the last Judgement.
GOODREADS AND BUY LINKS
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/DiscontentNook
I ducked under Brick’s next swing and came back with a punch to his jaw. Something crunched, and I wanted to cringe for him. Brick staggered back a step and shook his head. I didn’t press him. Instead, I gave him a moment to clear the hit.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed the repetitious movement of a dark-haired man near the fence, but I didn’t look away from Brick. His gaze looked a little unfocused, and I hoped I hadn’t done any real damage. I still had a lot to drain. Sometimes, if a single fight wasn’t enough to empty everything, I called out to the crowd for another contender. I might need to do that with Brick. He’d taken enough of a beating. The guy pacing beside the cage might be up for a round or two.
Brick brought his gloves back up and stepped toward me. A low growl, barely loud enough to hear over the noise, reached me. I turned to look and met the deep brown eyes of the tall, dark-haired man. My stomach dipped at the sight of him.
Just as I was registering the details of the stranger’s strong, clean-shaven jaw, Brick swung and knocked my lights loose.
Time slowed as my head snapped back. Something crashed against the fence. I barely heard it over the ringing in my ears. I widened my stance to stay upright and saw one of the brackets pull from the ceiling before I straightened. Stunned, my gaze followed the dust down as I automatically brought my fists up.
I expected more from Brick, but he wasn’t moving toward me. He wasn’t looking at me, either. Something crashed against the cage again. Then, I saw it.
The metal of the cage bent inward as a huge dog crashed against the fence again and again. It didn’t look at me. It only looked at Brick, who stared back at it blankly. I’d hit him too hard. I must have. Maybe Brick had hit me too hard, too.
Ethan shouted my name as a few more of the brackets tore from the ceiling. A memory surfaced of a video I’d seen earlier that year. A man had been attacked by a dog, just about the same size as the one that crashed against the cage. When the dog had fled, there’d been little left of the man. The memory shook me free.
“Brick, move!” I yelled, trying to jar him from his stupor.
I gave the man a shove toward the door, then ran past him when he showed no interest in saving himself. People in the main bar were screaming and running for the exit. Chaos reigned beyond the cage—every man for himself. Worried for Ethan, I pushed through the door to the hall so hard that it bounced back on me and banged my left shoulder.
The rhythmic slamming of the cage stopped as I stumbled out into the service hall and eyed my options. The employee entrance was too close to the dog. I’d need to go out to the alley, then circle around to the front to get Ethan.
Claws screeched on the employee door, and I almost tripped over myself in my rush toward the back exit. Behind me, the door shuddered as something hit it with enough force to make the metal groan. My heart stopped, and I twisted to look over my shoulder. I was still alone. But for how long? A burst of adrenaline helped me reach the end of the hall.
The cold metal exit bar of the back door gave way, and I flew outside, startling a few of the users who lingered amongst the trash. I pulled emotions from them as I ran past, fueling myself. The people sagged. I didn’t stop running or pulling. I might need it to get to Ethan.
Ahead, the mouth of the alley beckoned. Already, people from the club ran past on the street. Screaming and shouting filled the air, along with my own rapid breathing and the pounding of my feet on the pavement.
Before I reached the mouth of the alley, the door burst open behind me. Taking a risk, I looked back. Just in time, too. The dog flew at me, knocking me backwards. I lifted my arms to block its snapping jaws as I fell to the ground under its weight. My head hit the blacktop with a burst of pain, and I lost my breath a second time.
My ears rang. I gave my head a tiny shake and blinked as I looked up at my hands. They weren’t braced on fur but a human arm. I blinked again, trying to focus. Beyond the snarling face and snapping teeth, I met the light grey gaze of an older man. He had wrapped his arm around the thing’s neck in an attempted chokehold.
“Run,” he said. The man pulled back, straining to win me some wiggle room.
Being an Author: Breaking the myth
If you write a book, people will read it. I mean, that’s the point of writing a book, right? Readers will read it, tell other readers about it, and an author can sit back and enjoy the money and fame their writing will bring. Yeah, not so much.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I love being an author. I love dreaming up the worlds I write about. The characters come alive in my mind and on paper. That I can share it with readers is cool. But, it’s not an easy or glamorous job (yep, I used the J word!).
There are no housemaids to do my laundry or cooks to make meals so I can keep writing. I still have everyday life responsibilities like washing dishes and paying bills. People don’t shout my name when I go into public places.
Being an author doesn’t mean wide spread fame or fortune. Being an author is a job like any other. It requires time and dedication to do well. It means sleepless nights worrying about deadlines and audience satisfaction. It means investing a ton of hours (and pieces of my soul) into each book I write. It means opening myself to public criticism for each word I’ve typed.
No, being an author isn’t easy. Then again, most jobs worth doing aren’t.
Melissa Haag currently resides in Wisconsin with her husband and three children. Touch was her first published novel. She is currently working on book five of the Judgement of the Six Series…along with several other new books.
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