Sunday, October 16, 2022

My Evil Eye (The Furies, Book 1) by A.L. Hawke


Release date: October 17, 2022
Subgenre: Urban Fantasy, Greek Mythology

About My Evil Eye:

Don’t look at me. Just don’t.

My name’s Gorgiana. For decades, I’ve lived a happy, simple life, shelving books at Sunland University’s library in Florida. But my peace ended when I witnessed an assault, bringing back horrors from my past. Or course, I took care of him. His body’s no longer whole. But that revealed my location.

I asked for help from my best friend, Cora, the goddess Persephone, and everything turned out just peachy. More than peachy. I met this real hot guy named Ash that same night. Later he took me out to a nightclub by the beach—next, a movie. All was well, until some thug stuck a gun in my boyfriend’s back. But I took care of him. He’s in pieces now too. But it all puts Medusa in a heap of trouble.

See, my name’s Medusa. Yeah, I’m that monster with the snakes in my hair. I warned you not to look.



 Remember that thing about getting all riled up and full of adrenaline and the beast inside me burning off my hangover? Yeah? Well, that was complete bullshit. My head feels like it could explode. I mean, it’s not as bad as when it had a bullet hole in it, but it’s still really bad.
I threw up when I woke up. But, boy, did you see the bathroom I was barfing in? Everything is gilded! Everything. There are wall-to-wall mirrors, marble floors, and this really cute vanity chair. And this isn’t even Cora’s master bathroom. It was the guest bathroom. And the guest room has a giant floor-to-ceiling window looking out on the gorgeous lake, columns built into the walls, and these huge colorful flowered vases, and, well...her house is amazing.
I slide off the most comfortable mattress in the world and grab a pair of opaque shades Cora left on the nightstand and insisted I wear around the house. I feel rested—maybe it’s the bed or the tranquility of her home—even though the clock on the nightstand says only eleven-thirty. The floors are a little cold, being made of polished travertine.
I walk to the window. The view is breathtaking. I stretch. I’m wearing a teal nightgown. I was so messed up last night, or early this morning, that I don’t even remember getting into it. I didn’t shower, but now I kind of want to. And my hair’s a mess—more so than usual.
As you stand with me by the bright sunny window looking out at this, like, amazing vista, do you see my wigglies? Go ahead. Look. I’ll run my hand along my hair. See, the snakes move a little in the sunlight. They’re small, narrow, and black, but they’re still there, getting all excited from the light. That’s why I never go out during the day. The bright light shines on my hair, and you can see them. It doesn’t look that terrifying. At least not to me. I’ve been told that to people around me, it just looks like my hair’s moving. That’s why I always have it in a bun at work. I know what you’re thinking. Why not a wig? The snakes eat it (sorry, gross, but true). And they don’t put up with hats. Like never.
I yawn. Then I touch the glass. Then I shake my head. Boy, this vista is incredible. In the far background, I catch a ship sailing. And a flock of birds. The clouds are just wisps of white. Far below my bare feet, through the window, I see trees everywhere.
“Excuse me?” squeaks a quiet little voice.
I whirl around and quickly move from the light of the window.
“Who are you?” a little girl asks.
This little tyke is standing by the door in a matching nightgown. Hers, like mine, is a light blueish-green silk one. She looks adorable.
“My name is Gorgiana.”
“You’re mommy’s guest?”
Mommy? Cora?
“What’s your name, sweetheart?”
She has bright blue eyes—brighter than any human’s. It reminds me of Cora. It’s literally as if Cora had a child but, of course, it couldn’t be.


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About A.L. Hawke:

A.L. Hawke lives in Southern California torching the midnight candle over lovers against a backdrop of machines, nymphs, magic, spice and mayhem. With a medical science background, the author specializes in romantic fantasy and science fiction. 

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