Elemental

Book 0: Elemental

by Brigid Kemmerer

Genres: YA Paranormal; YA Romance

Synopsis

Earth, Fire, Air, Water – they are more than you dream. As an air Elemental, 17-year-old Emily Morgan doesn't have much power. That's okay--she knows what happens to kids who do. Like Michael Merrick. He's an earth Elemental, one with enough power to level cities. Which makes him sexy, dangerous, and completely off limits. At least according to Emily's family. But her summer job puts her in close contact with Michael, and neither of them can help the attraction they feel. When forces of nature like theirs collide, one misstep could get someone killed. Because Emily's family doesn't just want her to stay away from him. They want him dead. Praise for Brigid Kemmerer and The Elemental Series "Magic, suspense, and enough twists to keep you reading until sunrise. An incredible start to the series!" --Award winning author Erica O'Rourke "Overflowing with action, snappy dialog, and hot guys--The Elemental Series will take your breath away." --Kim Harrington, author of Clarity "Plenty of romance and non-stop action. . ..Elemental is the new series to watch." --Inara Scott, author of The Marked 12,000 Words

Release date: April 1, 2012

Publisher: Kensington Teen

Print pages: 49

Sample

The thrill of having a summer job wore off about fifteen minutes after Emily Morgan started working. She’d had two customers all day. The sports complex was such a joke. No wonder she hadn’t had any competition for this job.

It wasn’t even a sports complex, not really. Mini-golf that no one wanted to play when it was a hundred degrees outside. Batting cages that no one would use until school started up in the fall. She probably wouldn’t see another soul until after five, when the white-collar dads showed up to use the driving range in a last-ditch effort to avoid going home to screaming kids.

Even then, in this heat, she’d be lucky if there were many.

Ugh, her hair was already plastered to her neck. Days like these, she wished she had enough power to do more than stir up a gentle breeze.

Then she choked off that thought.

She knew what happened to kids with power.

Besides, sitting here wasn’t so bad. She worked the shop alone, so she could blast the entire sound tracks to Rent and Les Mis and sing along, and no one would give a crap. She didn’t have to watch her brother Tyler light insects on fire with a magnifying glass and a sunbeam, like he’d done last summer. She didn’t have to listen to her parents argue.

She could count the days until she turned eighteen.

Until she could get away from her family.

The shop door creaked and rattled, sticking in the humidity. Emily straightened, excited for a customer, for someone—anyone —to break up this cruel monotony.

Anyone but Michael Merrick.

For a second, she entertained the thought of diving behind the counter.

Real mature, Em.

But her hands were slick against the glass casing.

It wasn’t that he looked all that intimidating. He’d be starting his senior year this fall, just like she would, but sometime over the last six months he’d grown to the tall side of average. He worked for his parents’ landscaping company, she knew, and it couldn’t have been light work—his arms showed some clear definition, his shoulders stretching the green tee shirt he wore.

He was filthy, too. Dirt streaked across his chest and clung to the sweat on his neck. His jeans had seen better days, and his work boots would probably track dirt across the floor. Even his hair, dark and wild and a length somewhere between sexy and I-don’t-give-a-crap, was more unkempt than usual.

Emily didn’t care about any of that.

She had her eyes on the baseball bat in his hands.

He’d gotten into it with Tyler last weekend, had sent her brother home with a black eye and a bloody nose, leaving their parents to argue for an hour about how they were going to handle the Merrick problem.

Emily slid her hand along the counter, toward where they kept the putt-putt clubs for little kids.

“I don’t want any trouble,” she said, her voice solid but too quick. Her fingers wrapped around the handle of a club.

Michael’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t either.”

Then she realized he hadn’t moved from the doorway, that he was still standing there staring at her, his hand on the knob.

He glanced past her, at the corners of the shop,. . .