Candy Houses

So you think you know fairy tales? Guess again.


candy-housesCandy Houses 

Grimm’s Circle, Book 1

It’s been hundreds of years since Greta’s so-called story came to an end and it didn’t end with a happily ever after then. Why should she expect it to be any different now?

She’s a Grimm—a special kind of guardian angel and official ass-kicker in the paranormal world. Between trying to stay alive, training new Grimm and dealing with demons, romance is hard to come by. Then there’s the fact that there’s only been one man ever who really made her heart race.

And he’s been out of her life for a long, long time…

But now he’s back and just in time.

Greta needs Rip’s help.

There’s an unexpected threat to their world, a betrayal none of them saw coming.

Working together is the last thing they want, but it just might be their only chance.

A fairy tale best suited for grown-ups…don’t say you weren’t warned.

Excerpt

You may have heard of me. My name is Greta. It’s short for Gretel.

As in…Hansel and Gretel.

Yes, as in Hansel, Gretel, breadcrumbs, wicked witches, gingerbread houses with sugar candy for the windows…except there weren’t any breadcrumbs. No gingerbread houses or sugar candy windows.

I never did get what you’d call a happy ending.

Although, the woman who lived in the house was…different.  Not particularly all that wicked, really. Wasn’t even a witch, for that matter. She was unusual, definitely, but not a witch.

Hans was real, though. And if you want to talk wicked, we could talk about him. I was seven when he first started molesting me. They didn’t call it molesting, though. Not then. And he wasn’t the one doing anything wrong.

I was.

I was making up stories. I had a devil inside me. I was trying to cause trouble.

My stepmother came up with all sorts of reasons why I was the bad one. Me, when it was her son doing that to me. It didn’t start until after my father died. Hans knew better. My father would have believed me, and he would have killed the sorry little shit.

I’m getting off topic, though. That story is already done, already over with. It was another life ago, and I mean that literally. That life ended when I was twenty—it ended the night I died.

The night I made my choice.

I don’t like thinking about that night, not even what little I remember. It was painful. In order to receive the power of the Grimm, a human has to die. For a few minutes, at least. When we wake up it’s like we’d gone to sleep and, while we slept, somebody played around with our DNA—we’re stronger, we’re faster, we’re nearly indestructible…and we see demons. It’s not anything you can be prepared for. Trust me, I know. Mary had warned me when she told me what she was…what I could be. She prepared me as best as she could, but some things you just have to experience.

So are you confused yet?

I guess I could explain.

Like a lot of fairy tales, this one happened a long time ago…

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