Fisher Amelie’s FURY – Release Week Blitz

We have been dying to bring you this Release Week Blitz for Fisher Amelie’s FURY! FURY is a New Adult Contemporary Romance and the third book in Fisher Amelie’s The Seven Deadly Series!! Grab your copy today and if you haven’t had a chance to read the entire series yet, get on it IMMEDIATELY!

Amazon Barnes and Noble iBooks Kobo**

FURY Excerpt:

The truck door slammed closed behind me as I reached for my hidden bottle, unscrewed the lid, and took a swig. It burned on its way down, alleviating that sick feeling in my stomach, albeit temporarily.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I walked toward the bakery. I kept as close to the storefronts as possible. When I reached Ceres, I stopped and leaned against the brick beside the window, knowing they couldn’t see me. Carefully, I peered into the window and saw them. Their backs faced me as they ordered at the counter.

“My God,” I breathed.

There she was. It was the first time I’d seen either of them since the day in the forest when she chose him over me. It felt so surreal to me. Her hair had grown out a little and she’d gained weight, probably since the transplant went so well. I looked at Spencer. I bet the bastard was her hero. I couldn’t help but think I could have just as easily been him. I could have been standing next to her in line at Ceres, waiting for our sweet potato sticky buns, laughing and feeling happy because I was with her.

I thought about what Finley told me earlier that morning. I thought she was wrong. Cricket would have been just as happy with me as she was with Spencer.

I studied them together. She bounced on her heels, talking animatedly, her hair swishing around her shoulders. She used her hands a lot when she spoke. I wondered what she was talking about. I wondered if she thought about me at all, if she gave a shit that she broke my heart, shattered it into a million pieces. She smiled at Spencer and they started laughing. Apparently not.

God, I hated him. I mean really hated the guy. I looked back at my truck and remembered that I kept my hunting knives in the glove compartment in case my mom’s brother Akule, the only one willing to talk to me on her side of the family, wanted to go hunting. He gave them to me for my eleventh birthday. They were beautiful. Two Spartan short swords with leather handles,and I knew what I was doing with them.

Akule is Echo River Indian, as was my mother. She left the tribe when she converted to Catholicism right out of high school, and they didn’t approve but Akule was young when she did and he was close to my mom, so he didn’t care. He would sneak into town and they would watch movies together at her apartment.

He taught me how to hunt with my hands in Echo River style from a young age but when my mom died, he made it a weekly trip to the mountains. We would spend entire weekends up there up until I turned nineteen and Cricket got really sick.

I looked back at Cricket. She brought her hand up to Spencer’s back. He followed suit and tucked his hand into her back pocket, incensing me. Immediately, I walked to my truck and opened the passenger side door. The knives sat in their sheaths in the glove box. I hadn’t touched them in months, and my hands itched to hold them again.

I reached for them but paused a few inches from the handles. My hands shook and my heart pounded.

“What are you doing?” I asked myself.

I shut the glove box and sat on the bench of my truck, my booted foot resting on the concrete below. I ran my hands through my hair and rested against the back of the seat, shocked I’d been even contemplating what I’d been pondering.

“What were you going to do?” I asked myself. “Murder him?”

FURY Synopsis:

Revenge is an euphoric thing. Trust me on this. Nothing compares to the release you get when you ruin someone’s life. When they’ve stolen important things. Things that didn’t belong to them. Things I revel in making them pay for.

What? Have I offended you? I’m not here to appeal to your delicate senses. I have no intention of placating your wishes or living within your personal belief system nor do I care if you hate me. And you will hate me. Because I’m a brutal, savage, cold-blooded murderer and I’m here for my revenge.

I’m Ethan Moonsong…And this is the story about how I went from the world’s most sacrificing man to the most feared and why I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Check out the FURY Trailer!

Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cx22kmwqGXo

Add FURY to your Goodreads!

SEVEN DEADLY Series on Goodreads

And don’t miss the first two books in the Seven Deadly series!

VAIN

Amazon ** Barnes and Noble

GREED

Amazon ** Barnes and Noble

About Fisher Amelie:

Fisher Amelie resides in the South with her kick ace husband slash soul mate. She earned her first ‘mama’ patch in 2009. She also lives with her Weim, Jonah, and her Beta, Whale. All these living creatures keep the belly of her life full, sometimes to the point of gluttony, but she doesn’t mind all that much because life isn’t worth living if it isn’t entertaining, right?

Fisher is the author of The Seven Deadly Series, The Sleepless Series, and The Leaving Series, and was a semi-finalist in Amazon’s Breakthrough Novel Award.

Find Fisher on Amazon! Find Fisher on Barnes & Noble! Find Fisher on Facebook! Find Fisher on Twitter! Add FURY to your Goodreads! Find Fisher on YouTube! Find Fisher on her website!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Fisher Amelie’s FURY – Cover Reveal!

FURY, the much anticipated third standalone of The Seven Deadly Series by Fisher Amelie, releases May 4th, 2015! As we count down the days, Fisher is teasing us yet again! Here is the highly awaited cover!!

And now, without further ado…

EXCERPT from FURY, Coming May 4, 2015:

We start where we left off from Fisher’s last excerpt. If you’d like to read it, you can go here!

FURY, Excerpt Two

“Ethan?” she asked. “Is that you?”

“Hello, Finley,” I answered.

“How are you?” she asked, somehow devoid of the pity I’d often heard in so many greetings since Cricket. I was grateful to her for this.

“I’m fine,” I slurred, lifting my head a bit to meet her eyes.

A grin met her lips. “You were always a terrible liar.” Her smile fell a little. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m drinking.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You hate drinking.”

“I learned to love it,” I said, downing the remaining contents of my glass, letting it burn.

She looked me up and down, making me feel self-conscious. “But apparently it doesn’t love you.”

“Thanks,” I snorted, acting like I didn’t care. But I did.

“You look terrible,” she said, ignoring me. “Are you even eating?”

“I’m consuming the daily recommended calorie intake,” I hedged.

“Ah,” she answered, examining my empty glass.

I shook my head and signaled to Vi for another.

Finley narrowed her eyes once more. “Can I get a basket of chicken tenders too, Vi?” she added.

“Sure thing,” she said, ringing up Finley’s food before grabbing the bottle of Jack and filling me to the top.

Finley examined my glass but didn’t say a word.

“What?” I asked, feeling defensive.

“Nothing,” she answered, looking at her hands.

“Judging me?”

“Not at all,” she said sincerely and looked me dead in the eye.

This look froze me, and the glass slipped from my fingers and back onto the bar top, spilling a little from the rim.

“I’ve done that very thing,” she said, gesturing toward my glass.

“Drink ’til you’re numb?”

“No,” she said, “succumb to a vice in order to forget.”

I leaned forward, stunned by this admission, and my eyes found hers. “What, Finley?”

She hesitated, started to open her mouth, but someone called her name and she turned around. It was an ex-classmate of ours, couldn’t remember her name, the one she’d been dancing with, and I found myself feeling anxious all of a sudden. I hadn’t felt anxious in a long time. Hadn’t felt anything, really, other than severe pain and shame, in a very long time. Huh.

“Finley, Chris is gonna give me a ride back home. You cool?” the girl asked, eyeing me. She knew. The whole town knew about my tumble down the rabbit hole.

“Yeah, Holly Raye. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she answered, her brows scrunched in confusion.

Finley was surprised by Holly Raye’s apparent worry which I found odd.

“Okay,” Holly Raye said, kissing Finley’s cheek.

Chris was waiting by the door for her, and we both watched them leave, afraid to speak, our earlier moment gone.

Vi walked up with Finley’s chicken tenders and set them in front of her. Her fingers found one but lifted up quickly with a tiny gasp.

“Hot,” she whispered, resting her fingers against the side of her water glass.

She let them cool for a few moments and we sat in awkward silence. I wasn’t sure what she was still doing there. I didn’t have any clue why she had even started to talk to me either. I mean, I knew in high school she’d had a crush on me, but I figured it was long gone. She used to stare at me a little doe eyed, and I had always done my best to be kind to her but not too kind. I’d considered her a friend but nothing more, even if I did take solace in my conversations with her. I’d never admitted that out loud to anyone then, though, not that I was ashamed or anything. It’s just, I was in love with Cricket.

The ache in my chest burned deep, a restless reminder of all I’d lost. And suddenly I felt guilty for finding Finley attractive even when I thought she was a stranger. Even after Cricket left me for Spencer.

“You should probably leave,” I told her.

She looked at me like I was crazy. “I’ll do whatever I want,” she said, sitting taller, pitching me that confident Finley attitude I remembered from high school.

“Whatever,” I said, then called out to Vi for another round, which she served up quickly.

Finley tore apart a few tenders then handed me half of one.

“Uh, no,” I said, downing my glass.

“Uh, yes,” she mocked, shoving the piece in my face.

“Stop,” I said, swiping it away.

“Eat, damn it,” she said.

I looked at her and the expression on her face told me she wouldn’t quit, so I roughly took it from her and took a large bite. She bit into her own piece, a smug look on her face. She practically hand fed me every piece in the damn basket, but I didn’t care. I knew what she was doing, but it wouldn’t work because the liquor resting in my belly was too substantial to be worked against.

“What have you done with your summer?” she asked me.

“This,” I said, gesturing to my glass.

“What the hell, Ethan?”

“What, are you my mother?” I asked, immediately regretting those choice of words. I closed my eyes.

Mom. My heart dropped into my throat. Must remedy that.

“Vi,” I said loudly to her at the other end of the bar. “One more.”

Vi walked the length of the bar and filled my glass again, much to Finley’s obvious horror.

“Vi, can I get some mozzarella sticks?” she asked.

“Of course, darlin’.”

Finley smiled at me.

“I’m not eating those,” I told her.

“Oh, you’ll eat them.”

“I won’t.”

“You will.”

“I sure as hell will not, Finley Dyer.”

She leaned closer and my head began to swim. Her signature scent of apples and wild daisies swarmed around me, making my heart race. It’d never bothered me before. It’s the liquor, I told myself.

“You will or I’m taking your ass home right now.”

“You can just kiss that ass, Fin.”

“That’s the Jack talking.”

“No, that’s me. I don’t want to play anymore. I want to be left alone now.”

“You see,” she said, settling her elbows on the bar top, “I think- No, I know you’re lying. Like I said before, you’re a terrible liar. I think you’ve lied so often about wanting to be left alone, though, that you’ve convinced your head it’s the truth, but you can’t convince the heart, Ethan. You know why? Because the heart can’t ever be lied to, and yours beats the loneliest I’ve ever heard.”

I didn’t answer her. Couldn’t answer her.

“What have you done this summer?” I asked, ignoring her spot-on observation.

She played along. “I’ve had a temp job here in Kalispell answering phones for Smith Travel, trying to earn cash for my trip.”

My brows furrowed. “What trip?”

“I’m heading over to Vietnam for a year.”

This shocked me. “What in the world would you go to Vietnam for?”

“Charity work,” she answered, making me laugh.

“Why?” I asked.

“Don’t be an asshole,” she replied.

“No, really, why?”

“I’ve wanted to do this for close to five years now.”

“How come I don’t ever remember you talking about this at school?”

“Ethan,” she said softly, “let’s not pretend we ever really talked in high school deeper than filler conversation.”

This wounded me a little, though I’m not sure why. “What the hell, Finley? You and I were friends.”

Now it was her turn to laugh. “We were most definitely not friends. I may know everything about you and you may know everything about me because we grew up together, but we were not friends. You had a constant bodyguard in Cricket.”

I sat up at the mention of her name. “Don’t ever say her name again,” I gritted.

She raised her hands in concession. “Fine.”

There was a pregnant pause as she let me calm myself down.

“I talked to you a lot in the classes we had,” I offered.

“We talked a lot about the upcoming football games or class assignments. Once or twice, we took the seventy-year-old route and discussed the weather.”

I fought my grin. “Okay, so it was always surface observation, but we were kids.”

“No, Ethan, that’s not what it was.”

“Well, you were in love with me,” I bravely spit. “I couldn’t take it further than just below the shoal.” Thank you, Mr. Daniels.

“Full of yourself, are we?” she asked. “Listen,” she continued, “I had a crush on you in high school. So what? Lots of girls did. But I was, am, a human being. You didn’t have to treat me like some leper. Trust me, Ethan, we all know who you belonged to,” she said.

She stood to leave, but I grabbed her arm. The heated warmth of her skin shot straight to my heart. We looked at one another, wide eyed, our chests panting. I shook my head to recompose myself. “I’m sorry,” I told her, encouraging her to sit back down. “I’m- I know you deserved better.”

She hesitated but sat back in her seat. I stared at her, a little too intently thanks to the Jack. She nodded once and we sat in a comfortable silence as I had five more shots.

The whiskey made my body heavy as hell, the weight of its honeyed venom deadened the ache inside me pleasantly.

I sighed and smiled to myself.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

I looked up at her though it felt unusually burdensome and leaned toward her. “I’m going to get them back,” I admitted to her.

She narrowed her eyes. “Who, Ethan?”

“Them,” I said, bringing a tired finger to my lips. “Don’t tell anyone.”

I fell back into my chair. I brought my fingers to my empty glass and tilted it, balancing it on one finger. She was quiet for a moment.

“Ethan,” she began, whispering, “that’s not like you.”

I smiled. “I’m not who I used to be, Finley.”

“That’s a shame,” she said, “because you used to be wonderful.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Do you know what they did to me?”

“She left you for him,” she said matter-of-factly.

I let the glass tip over onto its side at her bluntness. “Exactly. After all I did for her. After all I was to her. She left me for him.”

“She wasn’t meant for you, Ethan.”

My skin burned with hatred at that statement. “No one is meant for anyone, Finley. You choose someone and then you make a commitment.”

She shook her head at me. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.“

“She chose me, convinced me that she was all in, and I was willing to die for her because of it. She convinced me she actually loved me. I thought she loved me.”

“She did love you. I believe she, you both really, would have been somewhat happy if Spencer had never shown up.”

“Exactly.”

“You’re not hearing me. You both would have been somewhat happy. Neither of you would have been utterly happy.”

This infuriated me. “I could have made her happy!” I yelled, earning a few glances from around the bar.

“Yes, you could have made her happy, but not as happy as Spencer does.”

My blood simmered in my veins. “You are cruel,” I bit.

She leaned forward. “I’m being honest with you. Someone has to since you’re not being honest with yourself. I saw them together, Ethan, and she never looked at you like that.”

“Stop,” I said, gritting my teeth. “Stop.”

“Ethan,” she said, resting her hand on mine. I yanked it from her. “Don’t you want the same thing for yourself? Don’t you want forever with someone who burns for you the way you burn for her? You deserve that just as much as she does.”

“Shut up,” I said, bringing my hands to my hair and fisting it at my ears. I didn’t want to hear it.

“Fine,” she said, sitting up. She looked around her and asked Vi for two cups of coffee.

I couldn’t breathe. Finley voiced everything I’d worked so hard to drown out, I’d attempted to numb. I hated her for ruining the struggle to suppress it. I just wanted to pretend. I wanted my hate, wanted it to live close to me. It was the only thing I felt could keep me alive. I couldn’t let her go. I didn’t want her to be loved by anyone but me. I didn’t want to be reminded that someone else really did love her better than I did, that someone else made her happier. Because I had watched them too. I saw what Finley saw, and my God did I hate Spencer Blackwell for it.

I wanted bitter.

I wanted sadness.

I wanted revenge.

About FURY:

I’m Ethan Moonsong…And this is the story about how I went from the world’s most sacrificing man to the most feared and why I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

FURY Trailer

Add FURY to your Goodreads!

**Add the SEVEN DEADLY series on Goodreads**

And don’t miss the first two books in the Seven Deadly series!

Amazon ** Barnes and Noble

About Fisher Amelie:

Fisher is the author of The Seven Deadly Series, The Sleepless Series, and The Leaving Series, and was a semi-finalist in Amazon’s Breakthrough Novel Award.

Find Fisher on Amazon! Find Fisher on Barnes & Noble! Find Fisher on Facebook! Find Fisher on Twitter! Add FURY to your Goodreads! Find Fisher on YouTube! Find Fisher on her website!

Fisher Amelie’s FURY Announcement

The much anticipated release of Fisher Amelie’s third standalone installment of The Seven Deadly Series, FURY, finally has a release date! Stay tuned below for the reveals of her new covers for VAIN and GREED, a chapter from FURY, as well as the heart-stopping trailer for FURY, due out May 4th, 2015.

Prepare Yourselves.

About FURY:

I’m Ethan Moonsong…And this is the story about how I went from the world’s most sacrificing man to the most feared and why I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

The new cover for the first standalone in The Seven Deadly Series, VAIN.

Amazon Barnes and Noble**

The new cover for the second standalone in The Seven Deadly Series, GREED.

Amazon Barnes and Noble**

And now for an excerpt from FURY, due out May 4th, 2015…

I heard a snap and the light cracked on, piercing through my closed lids. My head pounded and I groaned then rolled over, pulling my cover over my head to drown out the source of my pain.

“Get up,” a deep voice commanded. “Get up,” he continued, kicking my shoe.

“Dad,” I rasped. “I’m hungover and feel like shit.”

He was silent for a moment so I pulled the cover down just enough to see his face. He was not amused.

“Ethan, watch your language, get your butt up, and find a job.” I didn’t answer him. I had nothing to say that would please him. “And while you’re at it, stop this ridiculous drinkin’, son.”

I sat up, ran my hands through my long black hair and wrapped the length around my fist. I sat back against the wall, reveling in how cool it was, and tried not to vomit.

“Did you see them today?” I asked him, unable to help myself.

My dad removed his hat and leaned against the jamb, scrubbing his face with his free hand. “You like to torture yourself,” he said, shaking his head then sighing. “You remind me so much of your mama.”

The mere mention of my mother sent me spiraling down once more in depression. We’d lost her a few years before and I was still in agony. That, coupled with the fact that Spencer Blackwell stole my girl right out from underneath my nose, was enough for me to drink to excess every night. I hate him.

“Are they,” I swallowed, afraid of his answer, “are they together now?”

My father sighed again. “Ethan, get dressed.”

“Are they?” I asked again, letting my hand drop to my side. My hair slid with it and cascaded down my back.

“You are a stubborn boy. Yes, okay? Yes, they’re together. All the more reason to move on, son.”

My body suddenly weighed a thousand pounds and I felt my head reeling. So it was true then. They were together and they would probably get married and I was going to have to sit there in that godforsaken small town and watch it all happen. I was going to get a front row seat to my own misery.

I nodded once, rested my hands on my knees for a brief moment, then ran past my dad, shouldering him as I did so and nearly knocking him over before making it to the small bathroom across the hall and retching everything in my stomach into the toilet.

My dad stood in the bathroom doorway shaking his head in disappointment. When I was done, I fell back into the wall. That look shamed me to my core. Any time my dad felt let down, I felt the weight of my disgrace so heavy the only thing I could think to dull the ache was to drink myself into a stupor. It was a vicious cycle.

I let my hair cascade over my face. I heard the old wood floor creak beneath his feet as he left without another word and jumped when the front door slammed. My eyes closed as my head pounded.

The claw foot tub sat to my left so I leaned up and turned on the water, slowly removing my clothing one piece at time. Each movement felt like a hammer slamming into my head.

“God,” I groaned. “I am an idiot.”

I stood then stepped underneath the warm water and just stood in silence, letting the water absorb into my hair and seep into my skin. I breathed in the steam deeply. I was miserable. Not just physically but my heart was the heaviest it’d felt since my mom passed and I had no one to blame but Spencer Blackwell for that.

The asshole who rode into my life under the guise of helping his sister only to yank what I thought was a stable foundation right out from underneath me. He stole from me, a bona fide thief, and I wanted to make him pay. No, I needed to make him pay.

But how?

I finished showering and threw a towel around my waist, stepping from the tub and toppling onto my bed when I reached my room and fell to sleep, not even bothering to dress myself. I fell quickly, fantasizing about my revenge.

I must have slept for hours because when I woke, it was pitch black outside. I rolled onto my side and checked my alarm clock. Eleven o’clock. Perfect timing, I thought.

I sat up and tucked my towel around my waist a little tighter, stood and went straight for my dresser. I grabbed a pair of boxers and socks and put those on before heading for my closet and tossing an old, worn pair of jeans on, a thermal and an old tee. I brushed my teeth, grabbed my wallet and keys, threw on my boots and headed toward my piece of shit truck.

I knew exactly where I was going because it was where I planned on going every night until I forgot about Caroline Hunt.

My truck started but barely and I tore out of our driveway not bothering with my seatbelt, kicking up dust and rocks as my tires spun against the loose gravel. I’d replaced my stereo because I couldn’t stand radio, at least not Kalispell radio, and plugged my phone into the audio cable. Bastille’s Dreams remake blasted and I turned it up, letting the painful lyrics wash over me, fueling my desire to get plastered as quickly as possible.

I entertained myself with thoughts of strangling Spencer Blackwell with both hands then beating the crap out of him with my fists. Bastard. I pulled into the local pub and put my piece into park before tucking my left foot into the emergency brake.

I disconnected my phone and the stereo went silent, reminding me of how alone I really was. I turned the engine off and absolute silence surrounded me. I couldn’t take it. My door creaked with age as it swung open and I slammed it shut, unable not to. The fury raging in my blood was more than I could contain.

Before heading inside, my hand went to the empty space between the cab and the bed and searched for the bottle of whiskey I always had wedged in between. I took a large swig, not wanting to spend too much of my savings on the liquor inside the crap establishment. After all, I was going to need it. Revenge was a costly business.

I took one more swig for good measure and wedged it back in its usual place then wiped my mouth on the back of my sleeve. My hair swung heavy in my eyes. It was still a little wet from my shower and I thought about tying it back with the extra leather tie I usually kept in my glove compartment but thought better of it. It helped me hide and I wanted to hide.

I looked around me. The lot was full but I only recognized a few cars this time which was good because I had no intention of making conversation. Regardless, most of Kalispell had stopped trying because I’d rarely done any responding since Cricket cut out my fucking heart and ate it raw. The hair was only insurance.

I took two deep draws of air, gulping it down, desperate for it to soothe me but, of course, it didn’t. I let each escape my lips in shaky breaths and clenched my fists over and over before deciding to head inside.

My boots crunched the gravel beneath my feet as I headed toward the door. When I entered, I ducked my head toward the floor and let my hair cover me, not that it did any good other than to conceal me. I could still feel the heat of their stares, though, still feel the pity in their gazes. I wanted so badly to yell at them to fuck off but I kept as much composure as possible. I couldn’t get kicked out of the only real bar in Kalispell.

I picked a stool at the end of the bar, the same stool I always did in the corner and in the back because it was dark. I sat and met Vi’s eyes. She sauntered over to me, placing her elbows on the bar top, giving me a clear view of her generous chest. I held back my eye roll.

“Hello, darlin’,” she drawled. “You look like shit.”

“The usual, Vi,” I told her as quietly as I could.

“How ‘bout a kiss then first?” she asked, leaning in a bit more.

“Christ, Vi, how many times? Huh? Just get me the gosh damn drink.”

She laughed. “Already worked up then, I see. I like it,” she said, winking.

Vi, or Violet, was thirty-nine years old, had lived in Kalispell her entire life, and had worked as a bartender for over fifteen years. I could tell at one time Vi had been a beautiful woman but I could also tell she had heard many hollow promises from equally hollow men and that she obviously believed them all. Otherwise, why would she still be there? I watched her tired eyes and her slightly too-forced smile. She had the look of someone who used to be chased but had graduated to the chaser. She looked miserable.

She left and returned with an empty glass and a bottle of Jack. She set the glass on the bar and filled it to the brim. She was being generous. She was always this way. She told me once she hoped I would drink it all away and decide to take her up on her offer. I told her that would be a cold day in hell, to which she only laughed.

“Drink up, buttercup,” she said, smiling lasciviously.

“I will,” I told the bar top.

I watched the world around me through the breaks in the hanging strands and six glasses later, I was starting to finally feel numb. I lifted my head a little feeling slightly relieved, feeling like I could breathe a little deeper now that the ache wasn’t so severe. I continued to search the crowd, not knowing who I was really looking for.

A quiet but persistent nagging awareness took residence in my chest for some unknown reason as I watched a girl dance on her own in the middle of the dance floor. Others around her paid no attention to her but she was the first person my eyes were drawn to. I studied her.

Her hair was tucked into a blue scarf, little tendrils peeking through and grazing across her neck whenever she moved. She was extraordinarily tall and her hips and rear end were more indulgent than I’d ever considered before. She turned slightly, giving me her silhouette. Her stomach was flat and her breasts were full. She was beautiful, I could tell, even if I couldn’t see her fully through the low lights.

“Jeez,” I said, swiping a hand down my face. “I’ve had too much.”

But I still couldn’t stop watching her. She wore worn jean cut offs, a fitted button up with the sleeves rolled up her forearms and ankle boots. She rolled her shoulders playfully, enticing someone she knew just off the dance floor. Another girl joined her side and they did the robot. She threw her head back and laughed.

This shocked me almost sober. “That laugh,” I whispered to myself. “That laugh,” I repeated. I knew it but couldn’t quite place it.

She took her friend’s hand and twirled her around the floor vivaciously. She was so full of life. So my exact opposite.

She lightheartedly skipped in place and raised an arm in salute to her friend before turning toward me.

That’s when I got a good, clear look at her. I gasped out loud and placed my hand on the back of my head, my elbow on the bartop, ducking my head down lower to hide myself further.

Please, please, please do not recognize me, I thought, still watching her from the corner of my eye.

She stood two seats down from me. “Vi!” she said, laughing a little. “Vi!”

Vi turned toward her. “Hey, baby! What’ll it be?”

“Can I have a water, please?” she asked, sitting down and releasing a breath of exhaustion. She continued to smile, though, and it ate a little at my gut.

“Of course,” Vi answered and started to pour water into a clear plastic cup. Vi’s eyes pinched a little. “Hey?” she said.

“Yeah?” she asked.

“How come I never see you drink anything harder?”

Her face fell a little but picked right back up. No one would have noticed it but me. “I’ve never had good luck with alcohol,” she admitted a bit sadly.

Vi was quick enough to recognize something there that didn’t want to be said and let it go with a nod, handing over the water without another word.

“Vi!” someone else called out and she walked their direction.

She took a long drink from her water and set it down, turning toward the crowd and surveying the dancers. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, some private joke she shared with herself.

I looked on her for a long time. Long enough for my heart to calm itself. Long enough to struggle with myself in an internal argument. Finally, I decided that I wasn’t watching her because I found her attractive, though I knew she was. Only that I was wondering what she was doing there.

She turned around in her seat after catching her breath and glanced at me. For a moment, I believed she didn’t recognize me but I was wrong. A second scan confirmed it for her. She leaned in and narrowed her eyes. Shit.

“Ethan?” she asked. “Is that you?”

“Hello, Finley,” I answered.

Check out the FURY Trailer!!

About Fisher Amelie:

Fisher Amelie resides in the South with her kick ace husband slash soul mate. She earned her first ‘mama’ patch in 2009. She also lives with her Weim, ‘Jonah’, and her Beta, ‘Whale’. All these living creatures keep the belly of her life full, sometimes to the point of gluttony, but she doesn’t mind all that much because life isn’t worth living if it isn’t entertaining, right?

Fisher is the author of The Seven Deadly Series, The Sleepless Series, and Leaving Series, and was a semi-finalist in Amazon’s Breakthrough Novel Award.

Find Fisher on Amazon!

Find Fisher on Barnes & Noble!

Find Fisher on Facebook!

Find Fisher on Twitter!

Add FURY to your Goodreads!

Find Fisher on YouTube!

Find Fisher on her website!

Fisher Amelie’s FURY-Trailer Reveal

We are dying to share the trailer for Fisher Amelie’s FURY! FURY is a Mature Young Adult/New Adult contemporary romance novel and is a part of Fisher Amelie’s Seven Deadly Series. Watch the trailer below, then make sure to add it to your TBR pile!!

FURY Synopsis:

This is Ethan Moonsong’s book. Synopsis to be revealed at a later date.

Fisher Amelie Bio:

Fisher Amelie is the author of The Leaving Series, Callum& Harper and Thomas & January. She began her writing career as a copywriter for an internet marketing company wherein one of their client’s said, ‘Hey! You’re funny. You should write books’. Which in turn she said, ‘Hey, get out of here! This is the lady’s restroom.’ While washing her hands and the embarrassment from her face, she thought they may have had a valid point. So, she took the thousands of hours of writing stories growing up, tucked them into her pocket and began writing and writing and writing.