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Kiss Me Deadly

Kiss Me Deadly

Running Press Kids
August 3, 2010

ISBN-10: 0762439491
ISBN-13: 978-0762439492

13 Tales of Paranormal Love…

Full of dark seduction and modern romance, this short story collection presents a variety of talented voices sure to satisfy every werewolf, ghost, fallen angel, zombie, and shape shifter’s dark desires. For those fresh-blooded teens of paranormal romance, this collection of 13 short stories follows-up the Running Press Teen title “The Eternal Kiss.” Paranormal creatures like werewolves, ghosts, shape shifters, and fallen angels round out the characters in these forbidden paranormal relationships.

Authors included: Sarah Rees Brennan, Becca Fitzpatrick, Caitlin Kittredge, Karen Mahoney, Daniel Marks, Justine Musk, Diana Peterfreund, Michelle Rowen, Carrie Ryan, Maggie Stiefvater, Rachel Vincent, Daniel Waters, and Michelle Zink.

Can true love die if you’re already dead? This tantalizing collection of 13 short stories by some of the best writers of paranormal fiction in the United States and Great Britain explores “the other side of love.” Whether it’s an old-fashioned ghost story, as in Caitlin Kittredge’s “Behind the Red Door,” in which Jo wonders about the dashing resident of an abandoned house and a string of mysterious murders; a story with a twist, as in Michelle Rowen’s “Familiar,” in which a reluctant witch discovers that her chosen pet is a shapeshifter in disguise; or a story with dark humor, as in Sarah Rees Brennan’s “The Spy Who Never Grew Up,” in which a slightly older Peter Pan connects with Wendy’s granddaughter to fight evil in Her Majesty’s Secret Service, each story features a paranormal kiss. Fans who can’t get enough of their favorite authors will also be thrilled to find a back story to Carrie Ryan’s The Forest of Hands and Teeth, a Generation Dead companion by Daniel Waters and more killer unicorns from Diana Peterfreund.Kirkus Reviews

Available from:

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Chapters | | Indiebound

Excerpt from “FAMILIAR”

“Now I have a kitten,” I mumbled, holding the shoebox close to my chest as I walked home in the dusky light of early evening. It was only a half-mile to my house from the store. “At least you’re cute enough. Kind of unsocial, but cute enough. Sort of like me without the cute part.”

“I think you’re cute.”

I stopped walking and looked over my shoulder. No one was there. I continued on figuring it was just my imagination. My positive affirmations bubbling to the surface. Mom always told me not to put myself down. Maybe it was getting ingrained in my head.

“I have no idea what to call you,” I said. “Mrs. Timmons said just to concentrate and it would come to me.”

“The name’s Owen.”

“I don’t like that name at all,” I told my imagination. “I want something way cooler than Owen.”

My imagination swore under its breath. “Wait a minute, you can read my thoughts? How the hell can you do that?”

I was about to answer my imagination when I noticed that someone was standing in my way. Two men, actually, both well over six feet tall with broad chests and shoulders like football players, blocking what little light there was on the horizon. I stopped walking and looked at them nervously.

“We need that,” one of them said.

“I don’t have any money,” I stammered. “Like, maybe five bucks total.”

“Keep your money, we just want what’s in the box.”

I looked down at the box holding the kitten. The kitten itself eyed me curiously for a moment before the box was pulled completely out of my hands. The kitten jumped out and one of the men grabbed for it.

“Hands off,” my imagination—which I was now thinking wasn’t my imagination at all—snarled.

The kitten arched its back and hissed, swiping a tiny paw in the man’s direction.

“Aw, isn’t that adorable?” one of the men said sarcastically to the other. “Little Owen’s showing his big, scary claws. Kids. Pain in the ass, if you ask me.”

Before I could say anything, do anything, something crazy happened. And, growing up in a house with a magic-using witch as a mother, that was saying something.

The kitten grew before my very eyes.

Instead of a tiny striped kitten standing between me and the men, there was now a huge tiger who had to be five hundred pounds or more.

It growled, baring long sharp teeth and flicked a glance at me.

“Stay back. Werewolves are dangerous even in human form.”

Werewolves? I staggered back a step, almost falling over.

“Come on,” one of the men said, although he was backing up a step at a time. “We don’t want a fight, Owen. Not here, not now. Just give us what we’re after and nobody has to get hurt.”

What they got was another fierce growl as the huge tiger moved toward them. Without another word, they turned and ran with the tiger stalking after them.

Had they called the tiger Owen?