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Stolen Dreams
Cover art © 2018 by Lou Harper,



Edward Scot and Victor Blackwood have hated one another for nearly a quarter of a century, but now their simmering hatred is about to erupt. Book 4 in the Cassie Scot series.

Stolen Dreams by Christine Amsden is the winner in the Fiction Fantasy/Contemporary category of the 2015 Global eBook Awards.



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Stolen Dreams

a Cassie Scot novel

Christine Amsden






Evanís face stared back at him from a large glossy poster hanging in the front window of the local post office. The words "Wanted Alive" were splattered across the top in big red letters. Someone had cast an animation spell over it to make his hooded eyes shift slightly, as if in guilt. Evan had seen all that before, but a new addition to the bottom of the poster stopped him dead in his tracks: "One Million Dollar Reward."

"Crap," he muttered under his breath. He looked around, more than half expecting an ambush right there on the street, but he saw nothing sinister. He reached within himself for his magic anyway, channeling it into a shield that would protect him from most magical attacks.

A million dollars. This was going to bring out every crazy in the country! He had been fighting bounty hunters for over a month, ever since the wanted posters first went up, but then the reward had only been $100,000.

The Scots were either getting desperate or stupid to try something like this. Rumors already abounded regarding his bottomless reserves of magic, making him out to be some kind of inexhaustible fountain of power. The million-dollar reward would only confirm these lies in the minds of many; which meant that if someone did manage to catch Evan, the Scots were unlikely to get their hands on him. Why would a bounty hunter settle for money when he could have Evanís magic for himself?

The enmity between the Scots and the Blackwoods had bubbled beneath the surface for years, but it was on the verge of exploding into a deadly serious conflict. Evan had come close to killing the bounty hunter who had confronted him yesterday at the grocery store. The man had slipped some kind of befuddlement potion into a free sample of apple cider. It had tasted funny; Evan hadnít downed the whole thing, which had saved him from capture. But he had not been entirely in his right mind when heíd ripped the arm off of the man whoíd tried to grab him from behind.

The fresh memory made him feel sick inside. Deadly serious indeed. The injured man had survived in large part because he had a partner with some healing skills, but he could have died. Evan had killed once before, in self-defense. It had been necessary. He would do it again if he had to. But the possibility infuriated him that he might have to.

Was this Cassieís doing, or her fatherís? The unanswered question troubled him almost as much as the growing tensions between their two families. The Cassie heíd known in his youth never would have put others at risk for her own personal desires. Then again, that Cassie had not recently learned the truth about what had happened to the magic sheíd been missing her entire life.

He should have sat down and talked to her. He wasnít so naïve as to think that a simple conversation would have fixed things between the two of them, but maybe it could have averted this current state of hostility.

It canít be Cassie, he told himself for the dozenth time. If she was so desperate to get her hands on his magic, then why had she warned him of Alexanderís attack last September? At the time, he had even allowed himself to hope she still loved him somewhere deep down inside. But then she ran off to Pennsylvania with the man who had betrayed him, and she hadnít returned a single phone call or e-mail since.

She could have changed her mind since then. She must have, or why put up posters offering a reward for him, and by extension, his magic? All she had to do was tell her father she didnít want it.

Evan turned away from the poster and was just about to continue down the street when a black Suburban turned into the post office parking lot, cutting him off. He waited for it to pull into a spot, his shields still up, his senses alert.

Robert Scot, Edward Scotís cousin, stepped out of the vehicle, threw Evan a dirty look, then went around to the back to pull a four-year-old girl out of a car seat. The presence of the child did not convince Evan to lower his guard, though he truly hoped they hadnít sunk so low as to fight when an innocent child might get hurt.

One million dollars. People had killed for far less, and had allowed children to become victims. Robert Scot was a strong practitioner, on par with Edward, but he didnít have access to the secrets of alchemy, and he was not a rich man. He earned a good living as a bank manager or something, but one million dollars had to be a temptation.

The two men did not take their eyes from one another as Robert walked into the post office. Robert clutched the wriggling child, who clearly wanted down, to his chest in an almost painful grip. A minute later he was past, and Evan breathed a little easier. He walked away from the post office, heading down the sidewalk in the direction of his Prius, parked a few stores down. He still had errands to run, but in light of what he had learned about the reward, they didnít seem important.

Suddenly, an explosion rent the air. Evan dove behind the nearby antique shop, his shields maxed out, his senses hyper-alert. When he peeked around the corner, he saw smoke and debris where there had once been a Suburban.

The chubby face of the little girl filled Evanís mind, and he felt a moment of terror as he wondered whether or not Robert and his little girl had already returned to the car. Practically flying from his hidden position, Evan sped back to the post office and that mockery of a wanted poster, his eyes searching the interior until they fell, thankfully, onto the shocked faces of Robert Scot and his daughter huddled safely inside the building.

Robertís face didnít remain shocked for long; it fell into an enraged scowl. Robert shoved the girl into the arms of a nearby post office patron and marched outside to confront Evan man to man.

"You son of a bitch! My daughter could have been in there. I almost left her there while I ran inside, but then I saw you."

"I didnít do that. I ran back to make sure you were all right." More the girl than Robert, but still....

Robert didnít respond with words; instead he let loose with a torrent of raw energy that battered Evanís shields until he could scarcely hold them. Raw magic wasnít normally a useful attack strategy, but powerful emotion could turn it into one for a short time. Another blast like that and Evan would be in trouble, but he had no intention of letting Robert get off another shot. He parried the attack with his own telekinetic gift, throwing Robert bodily backward, forcefully enough that he smashed through the wanted poster and the glass window, shattering it.

Evan didnít wait for Robert to get back up; he ran. He hadnít caused the explosion, and he had no reason to finish a fight against a man he scarcely knew, but one whose family seemed to want to go to war with his.

The worst part was that someone in Evanís family probably had done itĖthey had been muttering for weeks that they couldnít just let the Scots persecute him. Evan had begged them to give him time, but obviously time had run out.

Robert wouldnít care whether Evan had been personally involved or not, nor would the rest of the Scots. And maybe they were right. Evan would find out who had done it and set him or her straight, but the damage was already done.

The first direct shot had been fired.

* * *

Five days later, Evan still had no idea who had caused the explosion. Everyone he questioned, from his father to distant cousins, patently denied it. Then again, it hadnít taken long for news of his ire to make the rounds, so maybe the culprit was afraid. He should be. If Evan accomplished nothing else with his interrogations, he hoped to put fear in the hearts of anyone thinking of pulling a stunt like that again.

Retribution had not come as quickly as Evan had expected, but it would surely come. The only questions remaining were when and how?

Evan got his answers early on Wednesday morning when his cousin, Scott Lee, arrived on his doorstep, looking as if he hadnít slept or showered in days. There was a fire in his eyes, still tinted the slightly yellow hue of the wolf, reminding Evan that the previous night had been the last night of the full moon.

"Good morning?" Evan made it a question because Scott usually slept the day after the full moon.

Scott didnít look tired, though, despite his rumpled appearance, and there was venom in his voice when he said, "They took Amanda."

Scott thrust a wrinkled piece of paper into Evanís hands. Carefully, Evan unfolded it, pressing the edges together where it had been torn in one place, and read:

Weíll gladly trade Amanda for Evan.

It wasnít signed, but it didnít really need a signature.

"How did this happen?" Evan asked. Amanda wasnít a weakling by any stretch of the imagination, although at eighteen she still needed training. She would probably enter into an apprenticeship the next summer, after graduating high schoolĖif she lived that long.

"They got her at school." Scott pushed past Evan into the house, and only then did Evan remember he hadnít actually invited his friend inside. They regrouped in the den, and Evan grabbed a couple of sodas from his mini-fridge. Scott popped his open, but didnít drink.

"She was staying after school to help with the Thanksgiving Day Parade. Itís the only time they could have done it. At home, she was too well protected." Scott let out a low growl and threw the untouched soda with all his strength. It collided with a nearby wall with enough force to leave a sizable hole in the drywall, and its sugary contents left their marks on the wall, the ceiling, the floor, and a nearby chair.

"I thought she was protected at school, too!" Scott roared. "Sheís got charms and wards, and sheís a damn fine illusionist, too. I donít know how this happened."

"Weíll get her back, Scott."

"Damn right, we will! She was taken Monday, Evan. Monday."


"The day after the first night of the full moon. I was with my pack for three days. The timing is too perfect to be a coincidence."

Evan saw something new in his friendís eyes thenĖguilt. Scott considered his monthly transformations to be a serious affliction, one that made him unfit for polite company. Now he had new proof that he was a danger to those around him, or at least not a capable enough protector to keep his own sister safe.

"It doesnít matter why they took her at the full moon, weíll get her back. Theyíll be blocking our attempts to scry for her location, so weíll need to pull everyone in. Start making calls. Contact every shirttail relative you can find, and tell them theyíll get to witness my scrying spell firsthand if they can get here by noon."

* * *

By two oíclock, they had pinpointed Amandaís location precisely where they had fearedĖat the Scotís castle. They ushered the shirttail relatives out with thanks, leaving the core of the family to form a war council. On his fatherís side there were Evanís grandparents and his aunts Violet and Rose, along with their brood of teenagers. Most of the teens had more hormones than sense, although Paul Malloren had sharp eyes that seemed to notice more than they should. On his motherís side there was his grandmother, Abigail Hastings, his uncle Kevin with grown children and young grandchildren in tow, and his uncle Jack with his grown children (there seemed to be a hole on his side of the room where his youngest daughter, Nancy, should have been). Scott and Amanda had lost both of their parents, including Evanís aunt Paulette, years earlier.

"Weíve got a lot working against us right now," Evan began, making sure he had the attention of every adult in the room. "A direct attack would put us up against countless wards and other defenses, not to mention the Scots themselves. Tomorrowís Thanksgiving, so theyíre likely to have extended family surrounding them then. If we do launch a direct attack, it will have to be tonight."

"If you attack directly," Abigail Hastings said from her wheelchair in one corner of the living room, "many will die." She closed her eyes. "Canít see who. Too much randomness in battle." It was as straightforward a prophecy as she was ever likely to give, and Evan took it at face value.

"If we could isolate one of them and take a prisoner, then we could try to negotiate a prisoner exchange." Evan looked to his grandmother for tips on that idea, but she still had her eyes closed. He had seen that look before, when she was looking deeply into the many paths before her. She could stay that way for hours, oblivious to the outside world.

"Who would be the easiest Scot to pick off?" Aunt Violet asked.

"Cassie," Evan said at the same time as his father. They looked at one another, briefly, before looking away. Evan still hadnít forgiven his father for what he had done to Cassie, or for not telling him about it, but they had been forced by the feud to set aside their differences.

"Isnít she in Pennsylvania?" asked Uncle Kevin.

"Sheís back for the holidays," said Paul. "I saw her in town yesterday."

Evan felt his heart clench, but he tried his best to ignore the implicationsĖnamely that Cassieís return had coincided with Amandaís abduction. Could the two events be related? Would Cassie stoop so low? He didnít want to believe it of her, but every time he closed his eyes he saw the wanted posters. She might not have done it, but neither had she stopped it from happening.

"Evan, are you okay?" Victor asked, putting an arm on Evanís shoulder.

Evan shook off his fatherís arm. "Fine."

"I think the best approach would be to set up an ambush on the road leading to the castle," Scott said. "Then we can wait for a likely hostage to trade for Amanda."

"I donít think you should go," Evan said. "Itís too personal for you."

"Iíll go," Paul said before Scott could reply. Several voices echoed his a few seconds later.

"Am I just supposed to sit here and wait?" Scott asked. "I should be with them."

"It is his fight," Victor said. "More than any of the rest of us. Heís not just her brother, heís her guardian."

Evan still didnít think his friend should go, but he waved a dismissive hand and disappeared into the kitchen to put together enough food for a small army. Most of them had missed lunch, and it was going to be a long afternoon and evening.

Several hours passed with no word from Scott or his group of hostage takers. Evan fed those who remained, but didnít stay in his large formal living room to entertain them as a good host should. He used the excuse of needing to clean the soda mess in his den, but everyone saw through it. He wanted to be alone.

Near five oíclock, the doorbell rang. It was too soon. Evan hadnít decided if he hoped Scottís mission would succeed or not, let alone who he hoped Scott would have taken if it was. Ready or not...

Evan opened the door, but it wasnít Scott. The man standing on his porch was nondescript, a middle-aged man with brown hair only recently starting to go gray. He recognized the man by sight, although he couldnít figure out what he would be doing there. Tyler Lake was a member of Alexanderís inner circle who had traveled with him to Eagle Rock back in September. And actually, as quiet as Tyler tended to be, fading into the background, that was about all Evan knew of the man.

"What are you doing here?" Evan asked.

"Iím here on behalf of Mr. DuPris, who has asked me to help mediate this dispute."

Evan arched an eyebrow in what he knew to be a particularly intimidating manner. "Mr. DuPris was a big part of what started this dispute."

"Yes, and he deeply regrets his role in the matter. Thatís why he has asked me to help."

Evan didnít trust this. He didnít trust Alexander, and never would again, but Tyler was only a messenger. Maybe he even thought he could help.

"Get the Scots to give me back my cousin," Evan said finally. "Then maybe Iíll talk."

"Yes, that was a regrettable move on their part," Tyler said. "I am trying to work with them, but they are understandably angry. It might help if you were willing to sacrifice just a little bit, for the sake of justice. Cassie saidĖ"

"Cassie?" Evan was suddenly alert. "Is she a part of this?" Say no, he begged, silently. As much as he hated coincidences, he wanted to believe Cassie was innocent of wrongdoing where Amanda was concerned.

"Cassie has a vested interest here," Tyler said, neatly sidestepping the issue, "and so do you. I realize that none of this is fair to either of you, which is why we need to sit downĖ"

"Did Cassie send you here?" Evan asked.

"Alexander sent me here," Tyler said, "although since theyíre engagedĖ"

"What did you say?" Evan had to steady himself against the door frame. But surely, he just hadnít heard correctly.

"You havenít heard? It happened just a couple of days ago. Everyoneís talking about it."

Cassie, engaged? To Alexander DuPris? He couldnít believe it. Not only was the man older than her father, but he was so slippery. He was a true politician. Cassie liked to take care of people; Alexander liked to use people. He would eat her alive. She had to know that.

"I donít believe it," Evan said.

"Suit yourself." Tyler looked supremely unconcerned.

Had she gotten over him already? Or was this her way of getting back at him? Or maybe....

"He forced her," Evan said.

"Cassie isnít the type of person to let herself be forced into anything," Tyler said. "A number of men did try."

Including Matthew Blair, and if he couldnít do it, Alexander certainly couldnít. So what did that leave him with? Denial?

You lost her a long time ago, he told himself firmly. But a part of him still hadnít accepted her loss as irrevocable.

"I donít think we have anything to discuss." With that, Evan closed the door in Tylerís face.

"What was that about?" Victor asked from the end of the hall. Only then did Evan realize that everyone in the living room had gone silent at the sound of the doorbell, obviously expecting news.

"Nothing important," Evan said. "Just go back to whatever you were doing."

Victor shot his son a dubious look, but he returned to the group. A minute later, the sounds of a large group of people all trying to be heard over one another filtered into the hallway, but Evan ignored it. He didnít even move. He leaned his head against the front door and shut his eyes, as if he could shut the world out that way.

He didnít know how long he stood there like that, but he didnít move until the doorbell rang once again, the sound so close to his ears that he jumped. A nearby table and lamp jumped alongside him, rattling when they landed. He hated losing control like that, but at least no one had seen.

This time when he opened the door, he did see at least one person he expected. The woman accompanying Scott, on the other hand, was a complete surprise.

"Madison?" Evan looked between his best friend and his one-time trainee. She wasnít bound, but neither was she there of her own free will. The look in her eyes, and her quaking form, testified to that.

"What are you doing?" Evan asked.

Scott pushed Madison inside, nearly knocking her into Evan, who only just stepped aside in time. Scott followed her, closing the door behind him.

"Sheís not one of them," Evan said.

"Sheís dating Nicolas Scot." Scott said it in a way that made Evan wonder if he was establishing a connection, or accusing her of a crime.

Evan knew his friend wanted Madison. Since Scott had saved her lifeĖactually her soulĖlast summer, he could have her. Evan couldnít help but remember a time when he had saved Cassieís life, and Scott had proposed simply taking her. Sheíd get over it, he had said. He wasnít taking his own advice when it came to Madison. Evan was glad of it, because by Scottís own admission, he had no business being with a normal woman. The wolf in him might hurt her, might bite her.

So why had he brought her here?

"You said to look for an opportunity," Scott said. " This is an opportunity. She has to obey me."

Beside him, Madison whimpered.

Murmuring from the end of the hall made Evan turn to find his assembled family all trying to see what was going on. Victor was in the lead, and his face was oddly pale.

"What are you doing?" Victor asked, echoing his sonís earlier question. "Sheís not one of them."

Scott was apparently disinclined to repeat himself, because he grabbed Madison by the arm and pushed her into the nearby den, which had only just recovered from his earlier violence. A crowd of either well-meaning or nosy relatives began to crowd their way down the hall, but Evan put up a hand, forestalling them with the gesture and the wall of air that accompanied it. "Iíll handle this. Go back to the living room."

He didnít wait to see if they obeyed, he simply walked into the den and shut the door firmly behind him. He considered setting up a muffling spell so no one could overhear, but he didnít have one handy, and starting from scratch would take too long.

Evan rounded on Scott, trying not to look at the quivering Madison seated on the sofa. "What has gotten into you?"

"You said to bring back a hostage." Scottís nostrils flared. "In case youíve forgotten, they still have my sister locked away somewhere."

"I havenít forgotten a thing, but I wonder if you have."

"What do you mean?" Scott asked.

"If you donít want her seeing Nicolas then tell her to dump him, but donít bring her into the middle of this. Sheís not involved."

Madisonís head shot up, but again he tried not to look at her. If Scott might really order her to stop seeing Nicolas, Evan wouldnít have suggested it, but he couldnít stop to explain that to Madison.

"Thatís not why I brought her here," Scott said. "Theyíre close. Nicolas might trade Amanda for her."

Madison shook her head.

"Youíre not close?" Evan asked, finally turning to look at her.

Again, she shook her head.

"Then why did he tell you about the secret tunnel leading out of the castle?" Scott asked.

Evanís eyes flew to Scott, then back to Madison, who was busily trying to hide herself in the folds of the leather sofa. "Secret tunnel? What else do you know?"


"Sheís there almost every night," Scott said. "Isnít that right?"

She made a motion somewhere between a shake and a nod. Evan was beginning to feel like a brute, scaring her even more than she already was, but he had to agree with ScottĖNicolas wouldnít have told her about a secret tunnel if they werenít close.

Perhaps Evan had jumped to hasty conclusions about Scottís motives for bringing her here. Evan didnít want to use her as a hostage, but he didnít want to use anyone else either. He just wanted Amanda back, alive and in perfect health.

"Have you seen Amanda?" Evan asked her.

She nodded, jerkily.

"Well?" Scott demanded. "How is she?"

"F-fine. Sheís in a guest room. They b-bound her magic."

"All of them?" Evan asked. "Is Cassie a part of this? Is she engaged to Alexander?"

Scottís eyes widened, but he didnít interfere. In fact, when she didnít look like she was going to answer, he prompted her with a terse, "Well?"


Such a simple word, but one with such terrible implications. Evan tried to reach for the hope that Cassie wasnít in her right mind, but how could he after she had successfully fought off Matthew Blair?

Evan felt his last defenses crumbling, and he sank bonelessly into a nearby recliner. He wasnít sure how long he remained there, but he barely registered the third chiming of the doorbell. When he wasnít inclined to answer it, Scott went in his place, letting out a roar loud enough to shake the house when he saw his sister standing there.

Amanda had escaped. Evan didnít join in the celebration or pause to question their good luck. It wouldnít last. The thread of civility that had kept two powerful families from unleashing their full might upon one another had broken. This was only the beginning.



I escaped from Alexander DuPris the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, only to be told by my family that I was being melodramatic. And this right on the heels of informing me that we had a hostage in the guest bedroom.

A hostage, you say? Surely now Iím being melodramatic! But no, Juliana used her healing gift to knock Amanda Lee unconscious, then shoved her in a supply closet until Dad picked her up from school, at which point the two of them moved the body into the backseat of his car.

"Are you crazy?" I asked. I looked from face to face, trying to find a trace of sanity, but they were all doing their normal after-dinner things exactly as if nothing were wrong. Mom, hugely pregnant with twins, crocheted an afghan, Nicolas was out with Madison, Juliana looked entirely too pleased with herself, Isaac played a video game, Elena hid behind a book, and Adam and Christina played in their rooms. It could have been any normal Tuesday evening, except for the hostage upstairs.

"Cassandra," my father said, "you havenít been around. You donít understand."

Of course I didnít understand. No one had told me that things were getting this bad. It was as if Iíd been on the moon for the past two months instead of in Pennsylvania, calling home three times a week. But oh, everything is fine at home. Just fine. Donít worry about us. How are you doing? When will you be home?

I had never left home before, and I hadnít realized how separate it would make me feel. I had needed the time away, and despite everything that had happened in Pennsylvania, I didnít regret going. Eagle Rock had begun to feel too suffocating as so many people tried to live my life for me. It only got worse after I learned the truth about myself, and about what had happened to my magic. I had needed some space from my life, from my family, and most especially, from Evan. I hoped I never had to see him again, but I didnít count on it.

"We didnít want to worry you," Mom said, not looking up from her afghan. "There really wasnít anything going on until last week, anyway, when Evan blew up Robertís car."

"Evan? Really?" Setting aside my feelings for the man, I still had trouble believing he would do something like that without serious provocation.

"Donít worry," Dad said, misinterpreting my question, "we have it under control."

"I wonder what Amanda thinks about that."

"Sheís one of them," Juliana said.

"Just now, I wish I werenít one of you. What else have you done?" I knew about the wanted posters; I had seen them here and there across the country in my travels with Alexander, but I didnít bring them up yet. I intended to do that later, when I didnít have a more pressing concern.

"Weíre doing this for you," Dad said. "Donít you want your magic back?"

I froze, torn between painful truths. On the one hand: Yes! I wanted it back. Iíd always wanted it, and had always felt a gaping hole where it should have been. It reminded me of the day I had put up the sign for my short-lived "Normal Detective Agency," and how I had smiled while my heart broke at the ultimate admission. There had been rumors for years, but it had been time to stop hiding behind them and start being who I really was, instead of who I wanted to be.

Except, that wasnít who I really was either.

But on the other hand, I didnít want to go to war for it. No one was talking about killing anyone, and maybe they thought they could avoid that eventuality; but when I thought of Amanda Lee being held prisoner, I knew we had already crossed a line. Someone would die, and it was a higher price than I was willing to pay.

"No," I told my father finally, because sometimes short answers are better than long ones. If I gave him my extended reasoning, he would poke holes in it.

He didnít believe me but he didnít say so in words, he only stared at the potion belt riding low around my hips, filled with some of the magical concoctions Iíd developed over the past few months. The ones strapped neatly into my belt were only a small part of my stash, but they were the ones I thought might be most useful to have on hand: Strength, speed, and painful boils, among others. Two water guns strapped in holsters to either side contained electric shock and fire.

I couldnít argue with his visual assessment of my desire to have magic at my disposal, so I retreated homeĖto the rental house I shared with Kaitlin and MadisonĖto regroup and think.

I stayed up most of the night brewing a potion. Early the next afternoon, I duped Nicolas into providing the magical energy needed to complete it, and then I took advantage of a distraction to slip it into Amandaís lunch, undoing the spell that bound her powers.

She escaped of course, and I was proud of myself for my role in it, at least until we realized Madison was missing. When she returned home late that evening, suffering from serious gaps in her memory, she told me she would never make the mistake of thinking Evan was safe, or a nice guy, ever again. It seemed I had a new ally in my hatred of Evan Blackwood, one whose loyalties had been torn, for good reason, up until then. My family also had a new ally, firmly entrenched on its side.

The war was on, and I had no idea how to stop it.





Author Bio

Award-winning author Christine Amsden has written stories since she was eight, always with a touch of the strange or unusual. She became a "serious" writer in 2003, after attending a boot camp with Orson Scott Card. She finished Touch of Fate shortly afterward, then penned The Immortality Virus, which won two awards.

Aside from writing, Christine teaches writing workshops at Savvy Authors and is a freelance editor. She also mentors aspiring fiction writers.

Christine lives in the Kansas City area with her husband and two kids.

TTB titles: The Immortality Virus
Touch of Fate

Cassie Scot series
Cassie Scot: ParaNormal Detective  Book 1
Secrets and Lies  Book 2
Mind Games  Book 3
Stolen Dreams   Book 4
Madison's Song   Book 5
Kaitlin's Tale   Book 6
Frozen: a ParaNormal Mystery   Book 7

Author web site.




Stolen Dreams: a Cassie Scot novel Copyright © 2014. Christine Amsden. All rights reserved by the author. Please do not copy without permission.


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List Price: $6.50 USD

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  Author News

Cassie Scot: ParaNormal Detective is a finalist in the 2014 Next Generation Indie Book Awards.

Mind Games by Christine Amsden is the winner in the category of Paranormal in EPIC's 2015 eBook award and also won Silver in the Fiction Fantasy/contemporary category of the 2014 Global eBook Awards.

Stolen Dreams by Christine Amsden is a finalist in the Fiction eBook Category for The Next Generation Indie Awards (2016) and the winner in the Fiction Fantasy/Contemporary category of the 2015 Global eBook Awards.

The Immortality Virus by Christine Amsden is the winner in the category of Speculative Fiction SF in the 2011 Global eBook Awards and winner in the Science Fiction category for the 2012 EPIC eBook Awards.

Praise for Cassie Scot: ParaNormal Detective (book 1 in the Cassie Scot series)

"In this entertaining series opener, Amsden (The Immortality Virus) introduces readers to the eponymous Cassie, a decidedly mundane member of a magical family. ...Readers will enjoy Cassie's fish-out-of-water struggles as she fights magical threats with little more than experience and bravado." ~ Publishers Weekly

Praise for Secrets and Lies: a Cassie Scot novel (book 2 in the Cassie Scot series)

"...Cassie, stubborn and proud, is bravely trying to live on her own after her family disowns her. ...The growing complexity of Cassie's world makes this an entertaining installment, focusing as much on the will-they, won't-they romantic chemistry between Cassie and Evan as on the primary mystery...." ~ Publishers Weekly

"Christine Amsden unleashes her brilliant storytelling magic as the adventures of Cassie Scot escalate to the extreme. Rife with betrayal and a debt too deep for money to clear, Secrets and Lies plunges the reader into an utterly believable world where villains and heroes spring lifelike from the pages. Brace for a whirlwind ride of sorcery, romance and knife-edge peril. A truly original urban fantasy. Not to be missed!"
~ Kim Falconer, bestselling author of The Spell of Rosette, Quantum Enchantment Series






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