About the Book
Series: Caged Trilogy #1
Author: H.G. Lynch
Published: March 19th, 2015
Publisher: Vamptasy Publishing
Genre: YA Paranormal Romance
Content Warning: Mild sexual content and violence
Age Recommendation: 16+
Tilly is a witch…at least, she thinks she is. All she really knows is that she has powers she shouldn’t, and that the cruel women she escaped from – who definitely are witches – will stop at nothing to make her their prisoner again because of those powers.
But Tilly has fallen in with a strange group – a pack of werewolves. The pack wants to protect her; none of them more so than Dominic, the alpha’s kind-hearted son. Tilly thinks she might be falling for him, but she can’t help being fascinated by his brooding, mysterious half-brother Spencer.
Caught between the two, Tilly isn’t sure anymore what she’s most scared of: the witches hunting her down, or her own heart betraying her.
About the Author
H.G. Lynch is a Paranormal Romance author from Scotland. She is an avid reader, and cat-lover. She spends most of her days writing, while wrestling her cat off her laptop. She loves horse-riding, Star Trek, and snow.
Her books are dark paranormal romances.
1) Describe your relationship with a good book.
Love/Hate. I love reading, and a good book can steal my heart. But I hate finishing it. It’s always hard to reach the last page of a really great story.
2) When did you first start writing and what was the first thing that you wrote that you were proud of?
I started writing at 15, and it wasn’t until I wrote Run that I was really proud of what I’d written. I’d worked so hard on it, created so many threads of emotion and such strong characters, I was so happy when it was finished.
3) Please describe your work ethic as an author.
Depends on my mood. Sometimes I can write for six or seven hours without a break, and other times I sit down and stare at the screen for five minutes, utterly blank.
4) How do you balance your work as an author with the other aspects of your life?
I have a part-time job at an animal sanctuary, so I do most of my writing and promotional work in the evening, which works out because I mostly target American audiences, which are several hours behind me in Britain.
5) Why did you write this book?
I had the idea, the plot, the characters in my head. I couldn’t not write it. I had to tell the story unravelling inside my head.
6) What experiences from your past do you find yourself drawing upon repeatedly for inspiration in your work?
I was bullied in school so I tend to use memories of my bullies to create good villains and make my character’s emotions and reactions realistic.
7) What do you hope to accomplish in the next five years, both as an author and in your outside life?
My ultimate goal is to make the New York Times Bestseller List. If I can do that, my life will be complete.
8) Since you are a storyteller, please tell one good lie about yourself.
I’m a people person. I love being in public, watching strangers passing by, wanting to hear their stories. Concerts and nightclubs are my favourite places.
Shame and guilt warred with anger inside me. After how he’d treated me earlier, I should have hated Spencer. I didn’t. When I saw him sitting by the stream, I should have wanted to go over and scream in his face. I didn’t. Seeing him there, curled up with his head in his hands, clutching his hair like he was in pain, I just couldn’t hold on to my fury and hurt. I’d never seen him so discomposed, so rattled. It shook me, and I wondered what had him so upset. Was it me? Was this because of me? Or was it egotistical – maybe even stupid – of me to think that? To hope for it?
Abruptly he started pulling off his shoes and threw them carelessly, one landing in the stream. He shot to his feet, tugging off his t-shirt, and I bit my lip gingerly. The breeze swept a few strands of hair into my face and I brushed them back absently, but I saw Spencer freeze, tensing. He lowered his t-shirt back into place and stood, strung tight as a bow, staring into the water. I waited for him to do something else, to turn and walk away or to Change and vanish into the trees to prowl the night. He just stood there. Waiting.
He knew I was there.
He was waiting for me to make a choice.
I could walk over there, or I could turn and leave.
I started to turn, my feet muffled on the dirt and moss, and then I paused, thinking of the way he’d been clutching his hair, growling, muttering to himself. I hesitated, uncertain. Words fought in my head: You understand me, Tilly…I said I love you…I don’t say things I don’t mean…I lied. I lied. He lied. He’d lied to me. But I was starting to wonder, watching him now, which time he’d really lied. I needed to know.
I stepped out of the trees. Spencer didn’t turn, though I noticed his head tilted ever so slightly in my direction, listening. For a moment, I just stood and stared at his back, the tight set of his shoulders, the curled weights of his fists at his sides. And then he spoke.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked, his voice flat. I recalled he’d asked the same thing in the exact same tone the first night I’d found him by the stream, chucking pebbles into the water. It felt like an eternity ago, though I knew it had only been a few weeks. Hell, yesterday felt like an eternity ago. Everything in my head was blurred, confused, jumbled. I rubbed my forehead, trying to focus, but all I could think of was Spencer’s eyes when he promised on the night of the full moon, after the attack, that he wouldn’t let anyone hurt me for any reason. He’d said so many things like that, been my saviour so many times.
About the Publisher