End
Street Book 5: The Case of the Purple Pearl
By
Amber Kell and RJ Scott
Due
out 22nd November 2015
Blurb: After failing in a quest to win the Fae Queen’s approval, Halstein
is locked in a world of stone. Forced to remain a gargoyle he spends his days
on Sam’s desk pining for his lost love.
Prince Idris’s lover went missing and was presumed dead. Alone, Idris lives a
life away from court, starved of energy but unwilling to sleep in the room he
once shared with his beloved.
Can Sam and Bob save these fated lovers before it's too late? And will Bob’s
ultimate sacrifice be enough to free Hal from his prison?
Excerpt:
Chapter One
“What are you doing?”
Sam sighed. This was the fifth time today their visiting gargoyle had asked him
that. Three weeks had passed since it had decided to stay at the house and wait
for Sam to find it a master. And those three weeks had lasted a very long
time.
“Taxes,” Sam muttered. The same answer he’d given every single time he’d been
asked.
“I don’t like math,” the little gargoyle said. He waddled across Sam’s desk,
leaving small muddy footprints on a neatly filled-in form. Sam couldn’t even
muster the energy to get angry.
“Are you going to tell me your name yet?” Sam asked. He placed his pen on the
desk and leaned back with a stretch, eying the small gargoyle against the
hulking monstrosity that sat immobile on the corner of his desk. They were so
dissimilar, in size and expression.
“You know I can only tell my master.”
“I can’t keep calling you the little gargoyle. I’m going to have to give you a
name.”
The little gargoyle turned in a circle to face Sam, then squatted into a pose
with his mouth open in a snarl. It looked pretty mean, and Sam edged back.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
The gargoyle’s expression changed back to the one he usually had; that of a
dopey baby.
“Nothing, I was just giving you my fierce face so you can give me the right
name. I’m not having you calling me Sunshine or Cutie. I want something strong
like Zephariel Angel of Vengeance.”
Sam couldn’t help the snort of laughter, then immediately felt guilty when the
gargoyle’s expression fell. “Sorry,” he apologized. “It’s just, uhm, that name
is taken. How about Leo, like a lion, a brave, strong lion.”
The gargoyle tilted his head in contemplation, then nodded. “Leo, I like Leo.
I’m done with you now. You already have a gargoyle. I’m going to find my true
master.”
That decided, he jumped down off the desk and waddled over to the door,
sidestepping awkwardly when Smudge slunk in with intent in every step. In a
leap, Smudge was up on the desk, sitting right on the tax forms and staring
straight into Sam’s face.
“What are you doing?” Smudge asked telepathically.
“Taxes,” Sam answered. He didn’t add a sigh this time.
“You should be tracking down what kind of other your uncle’s pet gargoyle
is.”
Leo, the newly named visiting gargoyle, had declared that the old paperweight
on Sam’s desk that looked like a gargoyle, walked like a gargoyle, and was
stone like a gargoyle, wasn’t actually a gargoyle at all, but other.
“Where do you suggest I start? And why can’t you tell what it is, oh powerful
familiar.” Sam couldn’t help the sarcasm. Smudge was capable of putting souls
back in bodies and using heavy magic, but he couldn’t track down what kind of
paranormal had been transformed into an ancient crumbling gargoyle
paperweight?
“I’ll forget you said that,” Smudge said condescendingly. “I’ve been
busy.”
“With what?” Sam asked. Privately he thought Smudge spent too much time
cleaning himself with his paws up in the air and his tongue—
“I can hear you,” Smudge warned. “And who else do you think can keep your attic
spider infestation at bay?”
Sam shuddered. He didn’t like small spiders at best, let alone the giant ones
Smudge had suggested lived only a few floors up. “Good work,” Sam praised. “And
as to our paperweight friend here—” Sam tapped the solid stone thing on the
head with a stapler. “—I’ve put out a request to everyone I know as to who may
be missing someone. I used the ParaGoogle to see if anyone knows anything. Not
sure what else I can do at this stage.”
Smudge gave a feline version of a huff, deliberately washed himself on the desk
for a good five minutes, then disappeared out of the room. Sam shook off the
fur that had fallen on his paperwork. This needed to be done and, unless he
finished it soon, he’d have the authorities fining him all over the
place.
A knock on his office door jerked Sam from his sad contemplation of the bills
he had to pay. Although he’d earned some money recently and he owned the
building where he worked and lived, the flow of money going out far exceeded
the money rushing into his pockets.
Taxes were a bitch.
Giveaway
Competition to win $15
Amazon/Are giftcard, and 2 further prizes of RJ Scott e-books – closes 6th
December at 00:01 GMT (London)
a Rafflecopter giveaway
About RJ
RJ Scott has been
writing since age six, when she was made to stay in at lunchtime for an
infraction involving cookies. She was told to write a story and two sides of
paper about a trapped princess later, a lover of writing was born.
As an avid reader
herself, she can be found reading anything from thrillers to sci-fi to horror.
However, her first real true love will always be the world of romance where she
takes cowboys, bodyguards, firemen and billionaires (to name a few) and writes
dramatic and romantic stories of love and passion between these men.
With over seventy
titles to her name and counting, she is the author of the award winning book,
The Christmas Throwaway. She is also known for the Texas series charting the
lives of Riley and Jack, and the Sanctuary series following the work of the
Sanctuary Foundation and the people it protects.
Her goal is to write
stories with a heart of romance, a troubled road to reach happiness, and most
importantly, that hint of a happily ever after.
About
Amber Kell:
Amber Kell is one of those quiet people
they always tell you to watch out for. She lives in Dallas with her husband,
two sons, and one extremely stupid dog.
Stay tuned for Review~ Wednesday~ 25 November~
2015 ©Evelise Archer All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.
