From "A Measure of Disorder," Book One of the Mother-Earth Series, by Alan Tucker

Jenni and her 8th grade science class find themselves in a strange place while on a field trip in the forest...

Twilight gave way to darkness and stars filled the sky. Unfamiliar stars. Jenni had received a small telescope one Christmas when she was younger and spent many evenings in her back yard with it pointed at the sky. She'd learned the names of some of the stars and several constellations — the Big Dipper, Orion’s belt, the distinct “W” shape of Cassiopeia — all had been replaced by a much brighter assortment of strange twinkling lights.

“Well, that tears it,” Mr. Kain said, also looking at the stars. “We’re not in Kansas anymore.”

“Kansas?” Todd interjected. “We live in Idaho.”

Sara snorted. “Wizard of Oz, you dork.”

Several kids snickered and Todd opened his mouth to retort when Ms. Pap held up a hand. “All right. Enough.” Todd scowled but remained quiet. “We have some decisions to make and I think we should discuss our options, such as they are.

“We have no idea how it happened, but we’re obviously very far from home with no apparent means to get back. We haven’t seen any signs of civilization and the land around us has changed. We need information.”

From "A Dragon's Dream of Love" by Jodie B. Cooper

Leah, a seventeen year old half vampire/dragon mix, has arrived at summer camp and desperately needs to feed...

Ooh laa laa! Hunk Alert!

The thought popped into her head as a drop-dead gorgeous guy strutted past her shallow sanctuary trailed by four, no five girls. He was tall and broad shouldered with a literal full mane of hair falling down his shoulders, all golden strands of honey streaked with dark and milk chocolate. Sculpted muscles rippled across his shoulders and… ooh yummy, a light wet sheen highlighted a wonderful pulsing vein.

Thump, thump, thump.

The throbbing of his jugular called to her as it ran down the side of his golden neck, pulsing with neon intensity. Decisions, decisions! Join his growing harem and get a speedy lick and a mouth-watering bite or starve? It almost seemed worth the humiliation. Almost, but not quite.

She groaned, thumping the back of her head against the cool wall. She quit after several brain bashing thumps, but only because her ears began ringing. She seriously needed some shuteye if random thoughts like chasing and biting total strangers started popping into her head.

She’d never bitten anyone. She drank her daily blood allotment in a metal – no-see through – cup. If no one was watching, she pinched her nose shut.

From "Lord of Fire" by Brent Nichols

"Hazel Miller," he intoned, "you have been found guilty of practicing magic in contravention of the laws of the League of Sorcerers. You are to be burned at the stake until dead."

"What!"

She turned to look at the monk. So did everyone else.

"You're going to kill her?"

The mayor said, "Um, yes?"

The monk looked flabbergasted. "What did she do?"

The mayor frowned, annoyed. "We have testimony from her husband. She tipped over a cup. With magic."

For a long moment the monk just stared. Then he said, "Are you people insane?"

There was a shocked silence. Hazel said loudly, "I like him."

"The law," said the mayor, "is very clear. People just can't go around practicing magic uncontrolled. That's why the Wizard Wars -"

"This is what you had us chopping wood for?" The monk sounded outraged.

Hazel said, "Thanks for that, by the way."

The mayor, red-faced, snapped, "Enough! The law is clear. The execution will continue."

From "Blood of Requiem" by Daniel Arenson

War.

War rolled over the world with fire and wings.

The Vir Requis marched. Men. Women. Children. Their clothes were tattered, their faces ashy, their bellies tight. As their cities burned behind them, they marched with cold eyes. All had come to fight this day: the young and the old, the strong and the wounded, the brave and the frightened. They were five thousand. They had no more places to hide.

The dying sun blazed red against them. The wind keened. Five thousand. The last of their race.

We will stand, we will fly, we will perish with fire and tooth, Benedictus thought, jaw clenched. Men will say: Requiem did not fade with a whimper, but fell with a thunder that shook the mountains.

And so he marched, and behind him his people followed, banners red and gold, thudding in the wind. Last stand of Requiem.

It was strange, he thought, that five thousand should move together so silently. Benedictus heard only thumping boots. No whispers. No sobs. No whimpers even from the children who marched, their eyes too large in their gaunt faces. The Vir Requis were silent today, silent for the million of their kin already dead, for this day when their race would perish, enter the realm of memory, then legend, then myth. Nothing but thudding boots, a keening wind, and a grumbling sky. Silence before the roar of fire.

Then Benedictus saw the enemy ahead.