Excerpt 1:
The Appalachians are ancient—they existed millions of years ago, before the continents separated. They have stories aplenty to tell those who will listen to the pines sway in the wind, to the howls of the coyotes, and to the stories wildflowers tell when they bloom, each a different shape and color as the weather warms and cools in the spring.

It takes practice, sure. And there are those with gifts, like Virginia—the youngest of seven daughters—who have a special affinity for those conversations.

The sky was overcast, the air was thick with the scent of rain, and the birds chattered warnings about the impending storm on Ember’s first day in the field.

Today’s goal was to survey the area to prepare for future outings.

She had convinced Nicole she could handle the woods alone. And Nicole, ever trusting, had granted her the autonomy she craved.

Ember reveled in the solitude of the mountains. She relished the freedom to explore at her own pace, unburdened by the presence of others.

But then she heard a voice she didn’t recognize.

“Emberly,” it said.

She neither saw anyone nor was sure where it was coming from.

It wouldn’t be the first time she’d heard her name called by someone—or something— she couldn’t see. It wouldn’t be the last either, especially with the amount of time she’d be in the woods after dark. She knew what the tales said about those who acknowledged such voices with words or action; it was best to ignore it.

In the early daylight, it was less likely to succeed at harming her. It was also loud enough it was probably far away. Still, spirits gossiped, and she didn’t want a reputation for being gullible.

It kept talking to her anyway.

“Emberly Jane Whitmore, you have a debt to repay.”

The “debt” mention gave her pause.

It was unwise to talk to spirits you couldn’t identify, especially in the woods. Then again, it was unwise to promise yourself to the spirits, too. Ma had warned Ember about that a thousand times and about the consequences that befell those who promised themselves and attempted to evade payment.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked, directing the question nowhere in particular just in case. “I’m supposed to be working.”

“This is the work,” the voice said cryptically.

“Again, what exactly are you asking me to do? Shed my blood on a rock?”

“You will know when you know. But consider this your summons. When the time comes…”

The spirit voice? Confusing as shit. And not at all helpful.

“When the time comes, I what?”

“Be ready to meet your betrothed.”

 

Excerpt 2:
“This seat taken?” a man’s voice interrupted her thoughts. 

Ember flicked her gaze up to a lanky guy. Seemed like the sort of dude who’d be a photographer, maybe, with colorful clothing and a tousled appearance to his hair. But he had a charming smile, too, and her general assessment was: he’ll do.

“No, please,” she implored and gestured to it. “I’d love the company.” She smiled, hoping he caught her meaning, and from the way his lips curved up in response, it seemed he did.

“Name’s Henry. Yours?”

“Amanda,” she lied. It was probably going to bite her in the ass, she realized the second the fake name had left her mouth; this town was too small for her not to run into him at some point unless he was just passing through. But in bigger cities, this was the difference between them being able to find her and not.

They chatted about nothing at all, and he found an excuse to switch sides so that he was sitting next to her. She leaned toward him, setting a hand on his knee just to test the waters, and he put an arm around her. Overall, it was going really well.

Until he showed up.

Ashton Fucking Pyne.

All six foot plus of him, in a leather jacket with a shirt that dipped low enough she could tell he had a huge tattoo of a tree on his chest.

She noticed him immediately. Like some sixth sense alerted her to his presence; one moment he wasn’t there, and then he was, showing his ID to the doorman and waltzing to the corner booth where she was wrapped around a maybe-photographer named Henry.

 

When Ashton opened the creaky wooden door into the establishment, he’d planned to make his way to the bar, order everyone in the place a shot, then brood over a glass of amber ale until he figured out how to hire a lawyer who could sneak some very specific clauses into the contract he’d sign when assuming his role as owner of the company.

It wasn’t going to happen. But he could ponder it for hours, which was what mattered.

Or had.

Now, that plan seemed irrelevant.

Now, it didn’t matter that he wouldn’t be able to assume control of the company just to disband it. Just to divide the fortune across the many families who’d lost men in the explosions.

It also didn’t matter that, when he passed the wooden statue by the entrance—an original, one of a set of three his friend Andrew had done—the entire room fell silent. Dozens of eyes fixated on him, only to dart away faster than he could process what was happening.

For a fraction of a second longer than everyone else, the blonde woman in the corner booth watched him.

Ember.

For a fraction longer than he should have, he stared back at her. Probably for a very different reason.

That was the worst part of it.

After all, she believed he’d sabotaged her presentation, and that was after she’d learned he was a Pyne. He didn’t think she’d gotten a good impression of him, and he didn’t blame her.

It wasn’t like he made his true loyalties public.

But that didn’t matter either. It should have. It should have been enough to know that her opinion of him was irrevocably tied in with his family.

Beyond that, it should have been enough for him to know it was a terrible time in his life to pursue anyone; there were some contracts you couldn’t get out of, and ones made with the mountain spirits were definitely included.

What mattered to him in that moment was none of these things.

What mattered to him was that the woman he couldn’t ignore was wrapped around some other guy.

 

Excerpt 3:
“Would you all cut it out? We don’t need to scare her,” a guy’s voice echoed around Ember when she made it back to the huge room full of salamanders.

At least the guy sounded human. Not mountain god-y. And that would have been somewhat reassuring if she didn’t recognize his voice.

If it didn’t flip her stomach the second it reached her ears.

She pushed the thought aside. Maybe she was imagining it. Maybe the echoes of the cave were distorting his voice and it was someone else entirely.

“Um, hi. I guess we’re engaged?” Ember said to him. Not that she saw him; she was still scanning for the semi-opaque form of a ghost in a final attempt at denial.

“In a manner of speaking.”

Ember could pinpoint the sound’s location this time and turned to face it.

She blinked. Once, twice, a third time, trying to comprehend what she saw.

Ashton.

He was far enough away she couldn’t touch him to be absolutely sure he was flesh and blood, that he was actually the man she’d kissed, that he was actually the man she couldn’t get out of her mind since the day she’d first laid eyes on him.

But no.

It was him.

Ashton Pyne.

He stared at her for a beat. Another. His mouth was open, just a little, and his eyes glowed a soft orange, though that might have been the lighting. He watched her move, carefully, and she felt like she was being tracked.

When she met his gaze, his mouth spread into a full, genuine smile.

Her attraction to him was immediate and intense. Even for Ember. Even compared to how it’d been in the days following the kiss. She couldn’t describe it, really, couldn’t figure out why all it took from him was eye contact and a tilt of his lips to make her weak for him.

Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing ever to marry him.

That felt separately absurd, but there was only so much she could do with the hand she was dealt.

She took a moment to regain her composure. “Um. Hi. You?”

He walked toward her so quickly she thought he might tackle her, but he stopped a perfectly gentlemanly distance away.

“Ember.”

“You,” she said. She had more of a thought attached to it, but it died before it could reach her lips.

“Ember,” he said again, and stepped forward just far enough to take her hand.

He was definitely corporeal, and his touch flustered her.

“Why… are you here?” she blurted out.

He tilted his head and squinted at her, a fair reaction to her odd question. “I assumed that’d be obvious.”