Title: Unhinged

Series: Underworld #1

ISBN: 9781301315116

Book Length: 312

Publisher: Tempest C. Avery

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17735501-unhinged

Buy Links

B&N:  http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/unhinged-tempest-c-avery/1115113082?ean=2940044429550

Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/unhinged/id633705995?mt=11

DESCRIPTION/Blurb

Spencer Perry lost everything the day her boyfriend died. Even when he came back as a ghost, she was never able to return to her old self. Determined to find a way to bring both of them back--him from the dead and her from her depression--Spencer hops a ride with a Reaper across the river to the Underworld where she meets the god of the dead. Hadrian isn't what she expected Hades to be like, but when he agrees to a deal that can get her Micah back, she puts all caution aside and accepts. Too bad she didn't realize that she'd also just accepted a lot more than one gorgeous yet frustrating god. Bad things are happening all around her, and now she not only has to worry about keeping Micah's ghost status a secret from their friends, but also figure out who's behind all of the accidents. All signs point towards Hadrian, but something about that just doesn't feel right to her. Something that she hopes has nothing to do with her growing attraction towards him.

EXERPT

Excerpt option one:

“You love him that much?”

“I do.”

“And is there nothing else for you then?” he asked softly. There was something in his tone that she couldn’t place. “Nothing else for you to live for?”

For a brief second she thought of her parents, and of Quinn and Sydney. They would mourn for her for a little while, sure, but they’d get over it. Just like they’d all but gotten over Micah’s death already.

“No.” The second she spoke she knew things were different. Knew that something had changed between his comment and hers.

Hadrian shifted to lean forward in his throne, catching her eyes with his own and holding her there. A charming smile touched his dark pink lips. “Ok, Spencer Perry. A deal then. Seeing as how you seem so smitten with the Persephone story, I’ll make you a wager you simply can’t refuse.”

Think of Micah, she reminded herself. Anything is worth it for Micah.

“Six months.”

She blinked, having half expected him to ask for her immortal soul or something along those lines. “Excuse me?”

“Was that not plain enough for you?” In his eyes she saw he was silently laughing at her. “You’ll remain here with me in the Underworld for six months out of one year. What’s today? The third? Perfect. So until September fourth of next year, you give me six months of your life.”

“And if I do?” she hardly recognized the sound of her own voice it was so low and meek.

“I bring your boyfriend back. Good as new. Walking, talking, the whole nine yards.”

Excerpt option two:

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” she admitted, trying to gauge his reaction. She couldn’t tell if he was making fun of her or not.

“Unless you’re the girlfriend of Micah St. James,” he filled in.

She scowled, twisting her head around to look back at the sky. “No, that’s not what I mean at all. It’s not the title I need. A label is just a label. Take Sydney for instance. People look at her, and at first all they see is the cliché spoiled rich blonde chick. But the second they get a glimpse deeper, the second they try to see her for who she really is, they find she’s actually a caring, deep minded person.”

“And you’re not?”

“You’re not getting what I’m saying.”

“Actually, I think it’s the other way around.” He waited for her to meet his gaze. “You are a mortal, Spencer. You were born, you will live, and then you will die. There isn’t supposed to be any other order. Every soul that touches your life shapes you; there isn’t just one. Your essence is not dependent on any one person. Micah may have held your hand that day, but it was your legs that carried you up that mountain. It was your strength that brought you here to the Underworld.”

“That doesn’t—”

“I’m here with you, Spencer,” he stopped her, sliding his hand over so that the tips of his fingers brushed against hers in the grass. “Not Micah St. James. You aren’t him. You aren’t dead.”

“It feels like I am sometimes,” she whispered. She debated whether or not to pull her hand away, but they were barely touching and for some strange reason, she found his nearness comforting.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Tempest has been interested in pursuing writing since the fourth grade when she realized someone had to have written all of those books that her teacher read during story time. She writes stories that she hopes will help people escape the sometimes craziness of life, if just for a couple hours.