My past history with book writing paints a dismal, unhealthy, depressing picture, but I felt certain my first three books had been sort of a warm up for this one-and despite the fact I’d have to dig deeper and stretch farther than I ever had before, I felt certain I would not slip below the surface where oxygen is limited. It wasn’t until the words started forming in my dreams, begging to be written, refusing to be ignored, that I knew what I must do. I knew the topic I was tackling was not going to be easy, which is why I avoided writing it for almost a year. I began writing my fourth book on February 3 rd. I’d looked into too many desolate young faces over the past few years to NOT write it. Yes, I was sure… because I wasn’t writing to “readers ” I was writing to one desolate heart yearning to be seen.

Can you hear their call? Take my hand, come with me, to the masquerade ball.“I know you are all about telling the truth-but are you sure you want readers know the burden writing caused you during that time?” my friend asked after reviewing a difficult passage from the book I am currently writing.

The trickster, Raoul, will stop at nothing to seduce Brice because he knows, more than anyone, that the masquerade is a trap from which no soul truly ever escapes. To save his brother, he must survive the masquerades beautiful lies and avoid the hosts wicked ways. Forbidden lust will lure Brice from his world, into theirs. The fae know his desires, they know his weaknesses. Now Brice must return to the masquerade, the very place he vowed never to set foot in again. And when the masquerade vanishes like mist at dawn, it takes Charon with it. Every year on the solstice it appears, and every year the townsfolk frolic with the fae. Years later, now Lord of the crumbling LeChoix estate and buckled by debt, he has more important things to think about than fairytales. But it wasnt the fae who took his parents from him. Ever since he was a boy, Brice LeChoixs mother had warned him of the terrible fae. Should a guest lose their mask, their life is forfeit, cursed to dance forever for the entertainment of the masquerades cold and cruel fae host. Fae and human dance and drink and make merry, so long as they remain masked. Every year the solstice heralds the return of the masquerade ball.

Stop at Nothing by Macy Blake