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Jennifer lives in Martinsburg, West Virginia. All the rumors you’ve heard about her state aren’t true. When she’s not hard at work writing, she spends her time reading, watching really bad zombie movies, pretending to write, and hanging out with her husband and her Jack Russell Loki. Her dreams of becoming an author started in algebra class, where she spent most of her time writing short stories….which explains her dismal grades in math. Jennifer writes young adult paranormal, science fiction, fantasy, and contemporary romance. She also goes by the name J. Lynn. Find Jennifer: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Novel Goodreads | Author Goodreads
Excerpt
Roth cleared his throat. “Shortie,
look…look at your hand.”
Look at my hand? Why in the world
would he be asking me to do that in the midst of all the cray?
“Do it,” he said quietly and too
gently.
The dread exploded in my gut like
buckshot, and my gaze dropped to my left hand. I expected to see the weird
marbling of black and gray, a mixture of the demon and Warden that existed
inside of me and a combination I’d become almost familiar with by now. My nails
had lengthened and sharpened, and I could tell they were hard enough to cut
through steel, as hard as my skin, but my skin…it was still pink. Really pink.
“What the…?” My gaze traveled to my
other hand. It was the same. Just pink. My wings twitched, reminding me that I
had shifted.
Zayne swallowed. “Your…your wings…”
“What about my wings?” I almost
screeched, reaching be‑ hind me. “Are they broken? Did they not come out—” The
tips of my fingers came into contact with something as soft as silk. My hand
jerked back. “What…”
Stacey’s watery eyes had doubled in
size. “Um, Layla, there’s a mirror above the fireplace. I think you need to
look in it.”
I met Roth’s gaze for a second
before I spun around and all but ran to the fireplace I was sure Stacey’s mom
had never used. Clutching the white mantel, I stared at my reflection.
I looked normal, like I did before
I shifted…like I was going to class or something. My eyes were the palest shade
of gray, a watered-down blue. My hair was so blond it was almost white, and a
mess of waves that went in every direction like usual. I looked like a
colorless china doll, which was nothing new, except for the two fangs jutting
out of my mouth. I wouldn’t show them off at school, but that wasn’t what
caught my attention and held it.
It was my wings.
They were large, not as massive as
Zayne’s or Roth’s, and normally they were almost leathery in texture, but now
they were black…black and feathered. Like legit feathered. That soft, silky thing I’d felt? It had been tiny
feathers.
Feathers.
“Oh my God,” I whispered at my
reflection. “I have feathers.”
“Those are definitely feathered
wings,” Roth commented.
I whipped around, knocking over a
lamp with my feathered right wing. “I
have feathers on my wings!”
Roth cocked his head to the side.
“Yeah, you do.”
He was absolutely no help, so I
turned to Zayne. “Why do I have feathers on my wings?”
Zayne shook his head slowly. “I
don’t know, Layla. I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“Liar,” hissed Roth, shooting him a
dark look. “You’ve seen that before. So have I.”
Who Will She Choose?
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