About the Book
Title: No Rest for the Wicked
Author: Krystal Jane Ruin
Published: May 10th, 2017
Publisher: The Narcissistic Rose
Since her release from the psychiatric facility and into the smothering guardianship of her aunt, twenty-one-year-old psychic Tatum Torabi has been sneaking away to sell curses and plagues in the underground, a black market known for illegal and supernatural wares.
Tatum’s unique abilities catch the attention of a hella-creepy trash peddler who offers her a job tracking down people who owe his boss “a favor.” She couldn’t be less interested, but when she refuses, the company forces her compliance by threatening the lives of the only family she has left.
Because tracking barely scratches the surface of what they really want from her. There’s a reason Tatum is so good at making curses, and they want her to use those skills for a much darker purpose.
About the Author
Krystal Jane Ruin is a writer of supernatural and paranormal fiction living in the Tennessee Valley. She can often be found knee deep in Sudoku, in a Youtube hole, or blogging about books, writing, and random things at www.krystalsquared.net..
The coffee can is almost empty. I swear there was more in here an hour ago. In fact…my eyes scan the darkened cabinet. There were three canisters of coffee in here an hour ago. Now there is only this one, and it’s missing seven-eighths of the contents it had last time. A groan emits from my throat. “Freaking Kalin.”
I shake my head and dump what’s left into the coffee maker. “No one trusts me in this house.”
Emmerick pulls the lid off the lasagna and starts eating it cold, dipping his fork right into the container. “I trust you.”
He smiles. “I’m going to let that slide because you’re cranky.”
I rest my elbows on the counter and drop my head into my hands as I wait for the pitiful amount of coffee to drop into the pot.
“Wanna play blackjack?”
When I lift my head, Emmerick is holding up a pack of playing cards.
“You just carry playing cards around with you?”
“Maybe.” His grin widens.
I look over his pocket-less lounge pants and tank top. “How?”
Without answering, he flips on the overhead light and sets up on one side of the island. I reluctantly drag my heavy feet to the other side. He shovels cold food into his mouth with one hand and divvies out cards with the other.
“So, tell me,” he says, peeking at his facedown card, “why aren’t you sleeping?”
I peek at mine. Queen of Spades. On top I have an ace of clubs. My face brightens into a smile before I can stop it. “What makes you think I’m not sleeping?”
The coffee maker starts to steam, and he gives it a pointed glance.
“Oh that? I always wake up in the middle of the night to drink a pot of coffee. It helps me sleep.” I meet his gaze and smile. “It’s why I look so great all the time.”
Laughter escapes his lips. “I was wondering what your secret was.” He flips his cards over. Ten of diamonds to go with his nine of hearts. “Hold.”
I flip my queen over. “I win.”
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