Left without a soul, 17-year-old Dariana Sanders waited to die. There was nothing left to live for, nothing to feel besides the aching cold that never stopped. Her parent’s marriage was in shambles, and her brother, the only one who understood, the only one who knew how to make the cold go away, was gone forever. The only thing Dariana knew with absolute certainty was that nothing could possibly be right again. Enter Lewis Axel Nialls. Luckily for her, impossible is right up his alley. He can save her from the forces that wish to destroy her. Of course who’s going to save him from her?
“The fantasy elements in Hotblood are original and imaginative, the adventure and suspense is well-paced, and the characters are solidly built. It is a breeze to read.”
“I really enjoyed this book, so much so that I read it multiple times. It is such a refreshing story that is different than most other YA literature that is popular right now. I couldn’t put it down!”
Dariana is back, and so is her soul, only now she owns its Cool/Hybrid self again. But in the dark world she lives in now, her true soul may be out of place and in constant danger. Dariana is to be protected at all costs, but she is coming into her own, maturing and wants to control her own destiny. Those of her own House have plans for her, too; will she become a puppet or a pawn in the deadly games of magical power? Does she follow duty or desire? Is Lewis truly her soulmate? If he accepts the House challenge for her hand, can he win?
“Wow! I don’t know how Juliann Whicker did it, but this book is even better than the first. The story is seriously addictive.”
“All five of your senses are awakened through Juliann Whicker’s writing as you can smell, see, taste, hear and experience her stories.”
Author note: My husband and children were in Las Vegas on our way to Disneyland and we stayed at Excalibur. We went to the show with horses and knights, dancing princesses, evil magician, the whole thing. We sat on the front row with horses pounding past us. I had a turkey leg in my fist when a long-haired dark knight came by wrapped in a cloak on a black horse that reared and pranced. A clod of dirt flung up from his steed hit me right in the forehead and sprayed my beautiful medieval meal in grit. I knew at once that man had to be the hero in my story, minus the gritty turkey.