(House of Misfits, #3)
Publication date: August 13th 2021
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Fairy Tales, Retelling, Romance
Once upon a time…A boy is sired with poison in his veins. He cannot outrun the venom in his blood, so he escapes from those who put it there. Secreting away his darkest tendencies, he grows to become a friend, brother, bartender…Huntsman.A man who becomes exactly what he ran from, a villain of his own making.A villain who falls in love with the one woman he is told to steer clear of.Enchanted by a girl with hair as brilliant as the sun and innocence as potent as his corruption.A girl locked away in a tower and told she will never walk again.This boy doesn’t want to be the villain in her story. For once, he desires to be a hero.Regrettably, his past creeps in like thick, winding fog, reaching wickedly for the one he loves the most. A hero is no match for the rotten tree from which he fell.Once a huntsman, always a huntsman.Poisoning guaranteed.
**Huntsman is a contemporary romance novel – a modern retelling of the fairy tale Tangled. It is recommended that you read Ivory White (House of Misfits #1) before diving into Huntsman. This book does not have a cliff hanger and has a HEA.
“Is that your car?” she exclaimed. Her wheelchair halted in the middle of the sidewalk as she gaped at the vintage black Dodge Charger at the curb.
If most people—okay, literally any people—were to exclaim at my car like that, I’d be tempted to leave tread marks on their forehead as I sped off on the way to not giving a flying fuck.
But Virginia wasn’t any people. She was Neo’s little sister. So I bit back the biting reply to scratch behind my ear. “Well, I know it’s not exactly the cushy SUV Neo probably uses—”
“It’s way better!” Her arms flung up over her head in excitement. As they dropped, she rotated at the waist to find me with sparkling chestnut eyes. “Can I drive?”
It took me a heartbeat to digest the fact she liked the car and then another to realize she just asked to drive. Cheeky.
“Nobody drives my car but me.” I scowled.
Her lashes batted. “But I’m a really good driver.”
A con artist. Just like her brother.
“Don’t listen to her. She just ran over old Mr. Donaldson’s foot last week. The man acted like he was dying for days,” Emogen cracked from near the entrance to the Tower.
“Such a drama queen,” Virginia muttered. “He was wearing shoes.”
My lips curled inward so the scowl I favored so much couldn’t morph into a smile.
“Besides. It’s this clunky thing’s fault.” V patted the side of her wheelchair. “It’s clearly not as superb as this.” Her hands spread wide as if introducing the car.
“You wouldn’t be able to reach the pedals,” I told her on my way past to open up the passenger door.
A sound of horror filled the air. “How dare you discriminate against me because I’m short!”
I couldn’t help it. I smiled. Good thing I was facing inside the car when it happened. Wiping it off my face, I spun back, boots stomping over the uneven pavement as I closed the distance between us.
I didn’t like the way she craned her neck to stare up at me, and before I’d realized it, I’d dropped into a crouch in front of her chair, bringing us to eye level.
A little fissure of surprise flickered in her expression, but it was gone before I could really grasp hold.
Leaning in, I whispered, “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but… your legs don’t work.”
A delicate, small-fingered hand with yellow-painted nails flew up to cover her mouth. The shock pouring from her eyes made me frown. Had I gone too far?
A prickle of unfamiliar conscience stung the back of my neck, and my tongue started to move in apology before my lips even parted. “V—”
A little giggle bubbled out around the hand pressed against her lips.
My stare whipped up. Her eyes were glimmering, not with upset… but with humor.
More giggles burst out, and her narrow shoulders shook with it. A summer breeze blew down the street, tugging at a long strand of hair that had come loose from the braids she always wore. It wiggled around behind her like it, too, was laughing.
Her hand dropped, revealing a warm smile. “I missed you.”
Those words were like a magic wand, the kind so powerful that, with just one flourish, it could put everything to sleep around you. Suddenly, the obnoxious city quieted. The scent of garbage always lingering in the streets disappeared. My fingers curled into my palms, tightening my hands into fists.
Cambria Hebert is an award winning, bestselling novelist of more than twenty books. She went to college for a bachelor’s degree, couldn’t pick a major, and ended up with a degree in cosmetology. So rest assured her characters will always have good hair.
Besides writing, Cambria loves a caramel latte, staying up late, sleeping in, and watching movies. She considers math human torture and has an irrational fear of chickens (yes, chickens). You can often find her running on the treadmill (she’d rather be eating a donut), painting her toenails (because she bites her fingernails), or walking her chorkie (the real boss of the house).
Cambria has written within the young adult and new adult genres, penning many paranormal and contemporary titles. Her favorite genre to read and write is romantic suspense. A few of her most recognized titles are: The Hashtag Series, Text, Torch, and Tattoo.
Cambria Hebert owns and operates Cambria Hebert Books, LLC.
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