Eva Muñoz has a new YA paranormal book out: “I Dare You to Break Curfew.”
To save humankind, Camron may have to fall in love.
Vampires are real, and they are called the Inshari. After Camron Masters breaks curfew the first time, he discovers them living beneath Braylin Academy. The second time he breaks curfew, he meets a mad scientist who convinces him to take part in an experiment in exchange for more information about the Inshari. A small pinprick later, Camron wakes up as one of them and finds himself bonded to the prince of his dreams—vampire or not, Troyan is dark, brooding, and oh so delicious. But there’s the enigmatic Zaire vying for his attention too. Or is Camron just a pawn in a centuries-old feud?
All Camron’s ever wanted was to live his own fairy tale. But there’s always a catch after meeting Prince Charming.
Inshari Chronicles: Book One
I JERKED awake on the first note of the bell in the east tower. The metallic clang of the chorus of the school song reverberated in my gut, causing a burst of panic to explode in my chest. Oh shit! The tolls yanked me to my feet from my seated position.
I scrambled between floor-to-ceiling bookshelves toward the entrance of the massive library, which resembled catacombs in the dying light, each shelf a final resting place for books long forgotten. The setting sun spread sharp shadows through narrow, ten-foot windows. I sprinted, skirting long study tables, which looked like autopsy slabs by the growing dimness.
The choking dread in my chest grew. Braylin Academy had one real rule kids followed: everyone off campus by sundown. The consequence? Immediate expulsion, no questions asked.
It was the easiest rule to follow in the history of rules. It looked like I’d be the first student kicked out in the academy’s illustrious five-hundred-year history. Obviously, it’s just a threat, and they’re not really going to expel me. Right? Yet at the back of my mind, a tiny voice, getting louder with each second, said otherwise.
I muttered several choice expletives under my breath.
In an attempt to distract myself from dire thoughts, I focused on my predicament. After the initial melodic tolling of the school bells that announced the top of the hour, the countdown began.
One. I reached the library’s double doors and pulled the handles. The heavy doors protested.
Two. My fingers slipped. I wiped my sweat-slick hands on my pants and tried again. The doors creaked and opened. Finally.
Three. I squeezed through, not knowing which hurt more, the burning of my lungs or my heart hammering a hole through my chest.
Four. I raced down the west hall that ran alongside the garden. My wallet chain slapped against the outside of my thigh.
I quickened my pace and reached the school’s front doors by the sixth chime. I stopped. An overwhelming sense of hopelessness flooded my insides. My hands trembled and my knees fought to keep my body upright. I rested my forehead against the door. The wood might as well have been metal; it was so cold. Bile climbed up my throat. I coughed several times before I covered my mouth and swallowed down the sourness. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t bring enough air into my struggling lungs.
This can’t be happening.
I slapped the door several times.
This can’t be happening!
Not to me.
Especially not to me!
Eva Muñoz loves dreaming of worlds filled with hot guys falling in love with each other. She believes that love is love is love and everyone has a right to find their person. Her love for writing began in high school. It was because her teacher complimented a story she had written that put her on the path she is on today. She would spin yarns on her father’s electric typewriter, bind the pages together, and bring the finished product to school for her classmate to pass around and swoon over. Little did she know at the time that writing would be a career she never knew she wanted.
She may have taken a circuitous path toward her passion for writing, but when she finally made that decision to stick with it after countless rejections, she never looked back. A degree in creative writing helps too. When she’s not at her favorite coffee shop thinking up new worlds and characters to explore, you can find Eva in a classroom teaching creative writing of all things. Talk about passion meets day job. Today she is molding impressionable minds the way her teacher once did for her.
This article was originally posted on Queer SF