QSFer Timoteo Tong has a new MM YA fantasy/paranormal romance out, The Magicals Alliance book 2: Resurrecting My Magic.
In the thrilling sequel to Magic, Monsters and Me, Elijah Delomary steps into a whirlwind of challenges that test his strength, his identity, and the depth of his relationships. Confronting Zid’dra, the diabolical king of the menacing Gloom, Elijah faces a web of deceit spun by the sinister force, luring him toward his demise. However, his escape is orchestrated by the intervention of the Áuqala, who guides him back to Earth with a crucial message—to believe in his innate magic. Meanwhile, Elijah’s mother undergoes a profound transformation, shifting her focus to support her son, amend past mistakes, and discover a newfound love for herself along the way.
Elijah’s journey isn’t just about reclaiming his powers and rekindling his relationship with Austin, his boyfriend; it’s a battle against Zid’dra’s relentless pursuit. As he struggles with his identity and seeks reconciliation, he becomes entangled in a dangerous game with Zid’dra, all while being shadowed by Devlina, his nemesis. An unfortunate accident sidelines Elijah, forcing him into a period of introspection and healing, where he grapples with self-acceptance and finds his true essence.
Amidst a summer blooming with rekindled love, Elijah is drawn into a chaotic conflict as the battle between Zid’dra and Devlina escalates into a full-blown war, pitting the coven against Devlina. Faced with a terrifying revelation, Elijah is pushed to protect his family, Austin, and the very fabric of existence. The weight of these challenges tests Elijah’s strength, forcing him to confront the darkest forces while proving the unwavering strength of his love to Austin.
Get It At Amazon | Publisher | Universal Buy Link
Giveaway
One lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code!
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Excerpt
Long, long ago, under a layer of red and brown smog in the sprawl of the San Fernando Valley, northwest of downtown Los Angeles, before Elijah Delomary lived in the purple-and-white Victorian mansion at the top of Magnolia Boulevard in Burbank, a terrible event happened that changed the trajectory of his life. His mother, Belinda Delomary, made a mistake, setting in motion the course of events culminating with him in a field in Homer’s Glenn watching Devlina, the Queen of the Gloom, battling monsters named Henges, or “Zusqoe” in the Dark Language. His mother was very much the reason why Devlina was at war with the Gloom.
Belinda Delomary stood in the dining room of the tiny ranch house painted olive green—not her choice, but rather her ex-husband’s. Ex—that described him. Gone from her life. And yet, here, in the fading light of another terrible day after he walked out on her and their young children, he was present, still able to inflict pain on her.
“Notice of foreclosure,” emblazoned on top of the official document, with the seal of the court and signed by some bureaucrat in a courthouse downtown, instructed her the sheriff would evict her and her children from the house in the next week due to nonpayment of mortgage. Belinda fumed, balled up the paper, and tossed it in the trash can. She went to the kitchen, opened the back door, and walked across the rutted, overgrown backyard to the detached garage, closing the door behind her. She proceeded to scream at the top of her lungs for ten minutes.
When her red-hot anger subsided enough for her to not use her magic to smite the world, she marched out of the garage, back across the knee-high grass. Larry, her ex, had promised to give her a wonderful garden, but instead, she had a weed-strewn mess. Just like Larry, all promises and no action. She stumbled over a worn tire he had left among the weeds.
“Goddamn it!” she cursed out loud. “I hate you and your very birth, Larry Eugene Smith!” She walked carefully up the rutted, concrete steps—another item from the honey-do list Larry had never completed—and back into the house. She went to the den, Larry’s preferred room—with the awful paneled walls, stone fireplace, and mini-bar filled with bottles of whiskey, his drink of choice. The room smelled of his cologne, Brash, a foul-smelling holdover from the eighties. She sat down at his little desk and stared at the landline. She hated the thought of making this call. She had ignored her mother’s warnings to not marry the man, to be smart, to be a “Delomary.”
“Be better. Think twice, girl,” her younger sister Lisa, the pragmatic, brainiac one, had warned her.
“I love him,” she’d told Lisa and the youngest sister, Christine, the afternoon before they were set to elope and get married in Vegas.
“He looks like a crook,” Christine, the no-nonsense sister, said, filing her nails at the kitchen table in their parents’ mansion in Holmby Hills. “And he smells like mothballs.”
“That’s his cologne,” Belinda had said.
Christine gagged, “Brash? That’s a sign. He buys his cologne at the chain pharmacy. No good. No good.”
“Elitist,” Belinda had said.
“Brainless.”
“Belinda,” Lisa had interrupted them, “I think you know we’re right. He’s not right for you.”
“I love him,” Belinda had said, then stood and stalked across the large, sunlight-filled kitchen. “You’re either with me or against me!”
“Bye, fool,” Christine said.
“Bye, haters.”
The joke, of course, was on Belinda. She married Larry at a drive-in wedding chapel off the strip in Vegas and then they honeymooned at a motel far off strip, infamous for being a hotspot for homicides
Her sisters and mother warned Belinda and yet she married him and he had ruined her. She had no money and was about to lose her children’s home because she believed him when he assured her he’d pay the mortgage in lieu of child support. She gritted her teeth, prepared to hear her mother’s words, “I told you so.” Still, she had to hear them. Her mother wasn’t wrong, and now she needed the family money and the family lawyers to save her—from herself and her bad choices. She was terrible at making decisions. She was terrible at love. She had fallen for a con artist. A man who pretended to be something he wasn’t. A prince in shining armor. Instead, she got a magician of sorts. No, he wasn’t magical. Instead, he was good with sleight of hand. He paid the mortgage with one credit card, then opened another to pay the first credit card. He never worked; rather, he lived off credit and a game of cat and mouse with the creditors until the game ended, and he lost. She lost. The kids lost. In a few days, the sheriff would come and evict them from their home.
Late at night, as rain thundered off the roof from a late season storm from the Gulf of Alaska, Belinda accepted defeat and called her mother.
Author Bio
Timoteo K. Tong grew up in the San Fernando Valley of Los Angeles dreaming of living in a rambling Victorian mansion. He currently lives with his husband and way too many plants in San Francisco. He is obsessed with cheese pizza, drinking cola, and daydreaming about magic. He sold his first book when he was age eight, a story about his beloved stuffed animal named Crocker Spaniel. He is a member of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators International.
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