Under Different Stars by Amy Bartol
All she wants is a home, but can she find one...UNDER DIFFERENT STARS
Kricket Hollowell is normally not one to wish upon stars; she believes they’re rarely in her favor. Well versed at dodging caseworkers from Chicago’s foster care system, the past few years on her own have made Kricket an expert at the art of survival and blending in. With her 18th birthday fast approaching, she dreams of the day when she can stop running and find what her heart needs most: a home.
Trey Allairis hates Earth and doubts that anyone from his world can thrive here. What he’s learning of Kricket and her existence away from her true home only confirms his theory. But, when he and Kricket lie together under the stars of Ethar, counting them all may be easier than letting her go.
Kyon Ensin’s secrets number the stars; he knows more about Kricket's gifts than anyone and plans to possess her because of them. He also knows she’s more valuable than any fire in the night sky. He’ll move the heavens and align them all in order to make her his own.
When everything in their world can be broken, will Kricket rely upon love to save her under different stars?
I glance at Trey; he looks like an advertisement for Calvin Klein. Wearing only dark, athletic boxers, he’s something out of a catalog or a warrior movie. Blushing deeply, I want to crawl under the rock I’m on. “Wade into the water together. We should tie you two so that you’re face-to-face with both your heads above the water,” Jax says. Trey nods, extending his hand for me to take.
Avoiding looking at him, I stand up, walking to the water’s edge on my own. Dipping my toes in the water, I pull them back sharply. “It’s freezing!” I glower at them, hearing my voice echo off the walls again.
“It is,” Trey agrees, scooping me up in his arms and wading out quickly into the water before I can object further. When he is chest deep, he says softly in my ear, “Breathe.”
Clinging to him tightly with my arms around his neck, I inhale deeply before muttering, “Shh...you’re interrupting my revenge plotting.”
“If you survive this, I’ll insist that you learn to swim,” he says, sounding annoyed as Jax wades to us with a line, circling us.
“If I survive this, I’m killing you,” I reply dryly, feeling the rope tense, drawing me tighter against Trey’s warm body.
A small smile touches his lips at my comment. “How do you propose to do that?” He gazes into my eyes as Jax knots us together.
“I’ll let you spend some sleepless nights worrying about that,” I reply, my teeth beginning to chatter as the cold water is chilling me to the bone.
I live in Michigan with my husband and our two sons. My family is very supportive of my writing. When I’m writing, they often bring me the take-out menu so that I can call and order them dinner. They listen patiently when I talk about my characters like they’re real. They rarely roll their eyes when I tell them I’ll only be a second while I finish writing a chapter…and then they take off their coats. They ask me how the story is going when I surface after living for hours in a world of my own making. They have learned to accept my “writing uniform” consisting of a slightly unflattering pink fleece jacket, t-shirt, and black yoga pants. And they smile at my nerdy bookishness whenever I try to explain urban fantasy to them. In short, they get me, so they are perfect and I am blessed.