War of Hearts by S. Young
It has been an absolute joy to delve into the world of adult paranormal romance. For months, Thea and Conall have lived inside my head, running across Europe, kicking ass and falling in love. There were days, however, I needed guidance, especially with the translations. As Scottish as I am, Scottish Gaelic is not my forte so thank you so much to Laura Chapperton and Lisa Moyes for helping me with Pack MacLennan’s clan motto and pronunciation. It is so appreciated! My Scottish wolves sound pretty badass before they shift thanks to you guys.
There are many reasons to thank my Facebook Group Sam’s Clan McBookish, number one being their never-ending support and encouragement. I’m grateful to have members from all over the world in my group, and I have to thank a few of those ladies by name for helping me with translations for this book. For the Hungarian translations, a huge thank you to Zsanett Varga, Kati Kipilla, Biró Andrea, and Durkóné Simándi Rita. You are wonderful! And for the Polish translations Katarzyna Poliksza, Justyna Krzema, Magdalena Szabelska, Marta Walentynowicz, Sandra Witowska, Anna Zadro?na and Kasia Smyk. Thank you for not only translating full sentences, but for helping me with that confusing “what is the plural of zloty for English language speakers?” question, ha!
How lucky am I to have such amazing readers to turn to with research questions? You’re all phenomenal!
For the most part writing is a solitary endeavor, but publishing is not. a massive thank you to my editor Jennifer Sommersby Young for taking a process than can sometimes be excruciating for a writer and making it pretty painless. I love working with you!
And thank you to my bestie and PA extraordinaire, Ashleen Walker, for handling all the little things and supporting me through everything. Congrats on a very special year, my friend.
The life of a writer doesn’t stop with the book. Our job expands beyond the written word to marketing, advertising, graphic design, social media management and more. Help from those in the know goes a long way. Thank you to every single blogger, instagrammer and book lover who has helped spread the word about my books. You all are appreciated so much! On that note, a massive thank you to Nina Grinstead at Social Butterfly PR, for agreeing to jump into this new venture with me. You’re fantastic!
To my family and friends, for always encouraging me to follow my gut.
Moreover, to Hang Le, thank you, thank you for creating yet another stunning cover and for bringing Thea and Conall to life in image. You’re so talented!
To my formatter Jeff Senter at Indie Formatting Services, thank you again for making my stories look great in digital and print.
As always, thank you to my agent Lauren Abramo for making it possible for readers all over the world to find my words, and for always having my back. I’m so grateful for you.
And finally, the biggest thank you of all, to you my reader. Thank you for coming on this new adventure with me. I couldn’t do it without you.
SCOTTISH SLANG
‘nae’ on the end of a word is the equivalent of ‘’nt’, the contraction of ‘not’.
Didnae – Didn’t Dinnae – Don’t
SCOTTISH GAELIC
Ceannsaichidh an Fhìrinn – Cyown-seech-ee in yeer-in Mhairi – Var-ee
IRISH GAELIC (CONNACHT DIALECT) Aine – Awn-ya
Samhradh – Sow-ruh Solas – Sol-as
Geimhreadh – Geev-ru Réalta – Rail-tuh Earrach – Err-ack Fómhar – Foe-var éireann – Air-un
The city held no danger for Thea as she strolled down the nearly deserted street on the outskirts of the eighth district. In the dark, the seedy neighborhood in an otherwise beautiful Budapest, could almost pass for a nicer area of the metropolis. Graffiti tags covered the walls, marring its beauty. The only reason she’d chosen the street, almost an hour’s walk from the Danube and the stunning historical buildings in the clean tourist districts, was because she could afford the flea-ridden room her creepy landlady had the audacity to call an apartment.
During daylight the tree-lined street was almost pretty, if you ignored the stench of dog waste and the sight of homeless people pressed up against the graffitied buildings and sprawled on the sidewalk. In the dark, the tall, slender oaks seemed to bow over Thea, a shadowy protection as she walked to the twenty-four-hour convenience store. She’d always felt a strange affinity with nature, her soul yearning for a quiet place in the woods somewhere. Would they find her in some far-off forest?
But let’s be real, she thought, I’d die within the month.
Her survival skills were strictly urban, and she couldn’t afford to stop anywhere for too long. She’d been in Hungary for almost three months, liked it more than most places she’d been, but already she felt that itch to run. However, waitressing did not pay a lot and half the tourists who came through the café she worked at in the Palace District didn’t seem to realize you could tip above 8 percent. She would get a job working for the last café in Budapest to add a mandatory service charge.
Grumbling to herself, Thea strode a little faster past the young homeless guy who looked prepared to grab her around the ankle to stop her. She hardened her heart against the visual of him, scrawny, filthy, and cold in the chilly April night. She was saving every penny she had for train fare. Thea had to run at a moment’s notice and right now her savings wouldn’t get her very far.