​We're SOOOOOO close to the release date for Semi-Broken (now available for pre-order here) that I just couldn't help but post another little sneak peek.  Hope you enjoy it! 

"Don’t apologize for being a badass.”

She certainly didn’t feel very badass at the moment. She hadn’t had much cause to feel embarrassed over the years and she couldn’t say she particularly enjoyed the feeling now.

“I’m not used to having people touch me,” she whispered. “When Harper hugged me? It just felt all wrong. I didn’t even know where to put my hands.”

Half expecting him to laugh at her pathetic admission, she avoided eye contact. But after a moment of loaded silence, he surprised her by opening his arms to her.

“I can help with that,” he said.

The low, growly tone of his voice sent a shiver down her spine. “You’re not afraid of what I might do?”

His smile was warm. The look in his eyes? Infinitely warmer. “No,” he said without hesitation.

Truth.

Well, it wasn’t like the thought of being in his arms was abhorrent in any way. And if she was to fit into this family, she couldn’t very well go around breaking wrists every time someone laid a hand on her.

Time to move on from the Sentry way of life.

Drawing in and releasing a deep breath in an effort to stanch her restless energy, she took a step toward him. He just waited patiently, arms open.

One more step had her close enough that she could once again feel his body heat. That, in combination with his scent—laundry detergent, soap, and warm male skin—was the last bit of reassurance she needed. Leaning forward, she rested her forehead on his chest, but left her arms hanging at her sides.

No need to rush it, right?

She closed her eyes as his hands brushed over her shoulders, then slowly slid down her arms before finally pulling her in closer. When she was pressed tightly against him, his arms banded around her lower back.

Seven breathed deeper and for the first time in, well, maybe ever, she felt all the tension drain from her body. With one gesture, Lucas was able to do something none of the people in the other room were able to do, even though they’d obviously tried their best.

He made her feel like she belonged somewhere.

Here, in Lucas’s arms, she wasn’t a mistake, a weapon, a freak. She was just…Seven.

And right now? Being Seven didn’t feel like such a terrible thing to be.

Here's a little snippet from Semi-Broken, now available for pre-order on Amazon! 

Seven didn’t back down as he advanced on her, though. He stopped when they were toe-to-toe and she had to crane her head back to meet his eyes.

He had a million questions for her, but he was still too pissed off to formulate many words at the moment, so he settled for, “Why?”

Her eyes narrowed on him. “What difference does it make? As long as you have your space.” 

Lucas fought back another growl. Would that word haunt him for the rest of his fucking life? “I never wanted space. I said we needed space. And besides, the kind of space that has you fighting vampires every night in a fucking cage? Yeah, neither of us needs that space.” 

 “None of these creatures are a danger to me,” she said, sounding entirely too reasonable for his liking.
“And I needed…”

“You needed?” he prompted.

“To hit something,” she finished. “Finding out you’re in love with Harper made me…angry.”

Jesus, how had he fucked everything up this badly? “I’m not in love with Harper. I thought at one time
I was…but I’m not.”

Her eyes searched his with that laser-like intensity he’d come to expect from her before she murmured, “Truth.”

He nodded and leaned toward her, putting his hands on either side of her head against the wall behind her. “I won’t lie to you, Seven.”

Her chin came up, her warm breath feathering across his cheek, her mouth only a heartbeat away from his. She lifted shaking hands and laid her palms flat against his chest. He nearly groaned out loud at the feel of those cool, delicate hands on his overheated skin.

She swallowed hard. “If you don’t want her, then why don’t you want me?”

Surely he hadn’t heard her right. “You think I don’t want you?”

Her gaze lowered to her hands on his chest. “I’m nothing like Harper. She’s…open and funny and beautiful. I’ll never be like her. I’m—”

“If you say broken I’m gonna be pissed,” he said, fighting to keep from yelling at her. “You’re not broken. You’re perfect. So fucking perfect that it hurts not to touch you. Do you get that?”

Her eyes lifted to his and widened, and he was caught. He couldn’t have looked away if his life depended on it.

They stayed like that for way, way too long, frozen as if they were seeing each other--really seeing each other—for the first time. He took a deep breath and the warm, slightly sweaty and entirely too sexy scent of her skin made him lightheaded. Her hands slipped down to his stomach as his chest moved. He couldn’t hold back a hoarse groan.

Get out, he told himself. Remember what Vi said. She needs space. Get out while you still can.

She let her gaze drop to his mouth and she licked her lips.

“Fuck it,” he muttered.

Then he kissed her. 

Like it so far? You can click here to pre-order. It'll be waiting for you on your Kindle on 4/14! 

Okay. (*clears throat*) Enough of all that sappy stuff.

So, this one's for all of you who said, "But Isabel, what about Lucas? He deserves his happy ending." You guys were right. (Don't let it go to your heads, though) I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Happy reading, y'all!
Sincerely,
Isabel ​

We’ve all seen those frantic pre-blizzard shoppers at the grocery store. You know the ones I mean. I’m talking about the women fist-fighting over the last loaves of bread. The dude loading his shopping cart with enough gallons of milk to destroy all the lactose-intolerant folks in the country. These shoppers (who will grab a 2-liter of soda out of your hands and run away with it like it’s a bar of pirate gold) are blizzard virgins. The rest of us, those who’ve survived a few blizzards, know what you REALLY need to survive when your doors are covered in ten-foot snowdrifts. But for all you virgins out there, here’s what you’ll need:

 You might be a Game of Thrones super fan if you agree with at least nine of these statements:

You plot Ramsey Bolton’s death in your free time, imaging the various slow, painful, graphic ways in which he will die (because it will be soon…it’s just gotta be…)
​
You’re seriously considering moving south. You know, in case winter really is coming sometime soon. And who wants to be around when White Walkers start moving through the north?