{"product_id":"broken-isbn-9780553588187","title":"Broken","description":"In this thrilling new novel from the author of \u003cb\u003eIndustrial Magic\u003c\/b\u003e, a pregnant werewolf may have unwittingly unleashed Jack the Ripper on twenty-first-century—and become his next target.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEver since she discovered she’s pregnant, Elena Michaels has been on edge. After all, she’s never heard of another living female werewolf, let alone one who’s given birth. But thankfully, her expertise is needed to retrieve a stolen letter allegedly written by Jack the Ripper. As a distraction, the job seems simple enough—only the letter contains a portal to Victorian London’s underworld, which Elena inadvertently triggers—unleashing a vicious killer and a pair of zombie thugs. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNow Elena must find a way to seal the portal before the unwelcome visitors get what they’re looking for—which, for some unknown reason, is Elena.Kelley Armstrong lives in rural Ontario with her husband, three children and far too many pets. She is the author of a new crime series, the Women of the Otherworld series and an upcoming young adult trilogy, The Darkest Power.\u003ci\u003eChanges\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Clayton doesn't do \"unobtrusive\" well. Not even when he tries, and that  afternoon, he was trying his damnedest. He was downwind of me, at least two  hundred feet away, so I couldn't smell him, see him or hear him. But I knew  he was there.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    As I stood under the oaks, I couldn't suppress a twinge of resentment at the  pressure his presence added to an already gut-twisting situation. Yes, I'd  been the one to suggest the run, leaping up from the lunch table and  declaring I was ready. He'd asked if he should stay inside—possibly the  first time in our fifteen-year relationship that Clay had been willing to  give me space. But I'd grabbed his hand and dragged him out with me. Now I  was blaming him for being here. Not fair. But better than to admit that what  I felt was not resentment but fear—fear that I would fail, and in failing I  would disappoint him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    I took a deep breath and filled my lungs with the loamy richness of a forest  emerging from winter, the first buds appearing tentatively, as if still  uncertain. Uncertain . . . good word. That was what I felt: uncertainty.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Uncertainty? Try abject, pant-pissing, stomach-heaving terror—\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    I took another deep breath. The scent of the forest filled me, called to me,  like Clay's presence out there, beckoning—\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Don't think of him. Just relax.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    I followed the sound of a rabbit thumping nearby, upwind and oblivious of  me. As I moved, I saw my shadow and realized I was still standing. Well,  there was the first problem. I'd undressed, but how would I Change if I was  still on two legs?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    As I started to crouch, a pang ran through the left side of my abdomen and I  froze, heart pounding. It was probably a random muscle spasm or a digestive  complaint. And yet . . .\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    My fingers rubbed the hard swell of my belly. There was definitely a swell  there, however staunchly Jeremy swore otherwise. I could feel it with my  hand, feel it in the tightening waistband of my jeans. Clay tried to avoid  the question—smart man—but when pressed he would admit I did seem to be  showing already. Showing, when I was no more than five weeks pregnant. That  shouldn't be. Yet one more thing to add to my growing list of worries.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    At the top of the list was this: the regular transformation from human to  wolf that my body required. I had to Change, but what would it do to my  baby?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    My fear over losing my child came as a revelation to me. In the nearly three  years I'd wrestled with the thought of having a baby, I'd considered the  possibility that the choice wouldn't be mine to make, that being a werewolf  might mean I wouldn't be able to conceive or carry a child to term. I'd  accepted that. If my pregnancy ended, I'd know that I couldn't have a child.  That would be that.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Now that I was actually pregnant I couldn't believe I'd been so cavalier.  This was more than a collection of cells growing in me, it was the  actualization of a dream I'd thought I'd lost when I became a werewolf. A  dream I was certain I'd given up when I decided to stay with Clay.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    But I had to Change. Already I'd waited too long, and I could feel the need  in every muscle spasm and restless twitch, hear it in my growls and snaps  whenever someone spoke to me. Twice I'd come out here with Clay, and twice  I'd been unable—or refused—to Change. Make it a third, and Clay and Jeremy  would be flipping coins to see who locked me in the cage. That was a safety  precaution—being Change-deprived makes us violent and unpredictable—but  given my surly behavior this past week, I wouldn't blame them if they fought  over the privilege.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Just Change, goddamn it! Get down on your knees . . . See? That feels fine,  right? Now put your hands on the ground . . . There. Now concentrate—\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    My body rebelled, convulsing so hard I doubled over, gasping. Change into a  wolf? With a baby inside me? Was I crazy? I'd rip, tear, suffocate—\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    No!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    I pushed up onto all fours and cleared my head, then opened the gate only to  thoughts bearing the pass-code of logic. Was this my first Change since I'd  become pregnant? No. It was the first since I'd learned I was pregnant, two  weeks ago. I must have Changed a half-dozen times between conception and  testing.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Had anything happened during those Changes? Bleeding? Cramping? No.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    So stop worrying. Take a deep breath, smell the forest, dig your fingers  into the damp soil, hear the whistle of the April wind, feel the ache in  your muscles. Run to Clay, who'll be so happy, so relieved . . .\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    My skin prickled, stretching, itching as fur sprouted—\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    My brain threw up the brakes again and my body tensed. Sweat trickled down  my cheeks. I growled and dug my fingers and toes into the soft earth,  refusing to reverse the process.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Relax, relax, relax. Just stop worrying and let your body do the work. Like  constipation. Relax and nature takes over.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Constipation? Oh, there was a romantic analogy. I laughed, and my changing  vocal cords squeezed the sound into a hideous screech, more worthy of a  hyena than a wolf, which only made me laugh all the harder. I toppled  sideways and, as I lay there, laughing, I finally relaxed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    The Change took over, spontaneous. My convulsions of laughter turned to  spasms of pain, and I twisted and writhed on the ground. The pain of a  Change. Yet some still-panicked part of my brain convinced me this wasn't  the normal kind of pain—I was killing my child, suffocating it as my body  contorted.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    I must—Must stop—Oh, God, I couldn't!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    I tried to stop—fighting, snarling, concentrating on reversing to human.  But it was too late. I'd waited too long, and now my body was determined to  see it through.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Finally, the pain ended, gone without so much as a lingering ache, and I lay  on my side, panting, then leapt to my feet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Damn it, not so fast! Be careful.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    I stood there, motionless except for my tail, which wouldn't stop whipping  from side to side, as if to say \"Well, we're Changed. What are you waiting  for? Let's run!\" The rest of my body didn't disagree with the sentiment,  though it let the tail do the shouting, settling for subtler displays of  restlessness: heart tripping, ears swiveling, muscles tensing. I refused to  move, though; not until I'd taken inventory, made sure everything was as it  should be.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    First, my belly. No obvious signs of distress. I panted, letting my chest  rise and fall, testing whether the movement seemed to hurt anything. It  didn't, though my stomach did let out a growl as that nearby rabbit's scent  wafted past. You wouldn't know I'd just devoured a three-course lunch.  Ungrateful stomach. But the other part of my belly, newly filling with life,  felt fine.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    I lifted my paws one at a time, stretching and rotating my joints. Good. My  nose and ears had done fine picking up that rabbit. And the still-wagging  tail was obviously working. Okay, enough of this.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    I stepped forward. One paw, two, three, four . . . No sudden scream of  complaint from my belly. I broke into a lope, then a run, then a headlong  dash across the clearing. Still no signs of distress.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Next, the tougher moves—the wolf maneuvers. I crouched, wiggled my  hindquarters, then leapt at an imaginary mouse. As I hit the ground, I  wheeled around, teeth bared as I snapped at an unseen foe. I bounded across  the clearing. I jumped and twisted in midair. I pranced. I lunged. I  charged. I chased my tail—\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    A wheezing sound erupted behind me and I froze, the tip hairs of my tail  still caught between my teeth. There, across the clearing, was a huge,  golden-haired wolf, his head between his forepaws, eyes closed, hindquarters  in the air, body quivering with that strange wheezing noise. His eyes  opened, bright blue eyes dancing with relief and amusement, and I realized  what that noise was. He was laughing at me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Laughing? I'd just gone through a horrible trauma, and the guy had the nerve  to laugh? I knew half of that laughter was relief at seeing me Changed, and  I admit I probably looked a little silly gallivanting alone in the clearing.  But still, such indignities should not be tolerated.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    With as much grace as I could muster with tail fur hanging out of my mouth,  I swept around and stalked in the other direction. Halfway across the  clearing, I wheeled and charged, teeth bared. His eyes widened in \"oh, shit\"  comprehension and he backpedaled just in time to get out of my way, then  bolted into the forest.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    I tore after him. I loped along the path, muzzle skimming the ground. The  earth was thick with the scent of my prey—a deliberate move, as he weaved  and circled, permeating this patch of forest with his smell, hoping to throw  me off the trail.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    I untangled the web of trails and latched onto the most recent. As I picked  up speed, the ground whooshed past beneath me. Ahead, the path opened into a  clearing. I pitched forward, straining for the open run, but before I hit  the edge of the clearing, I dug in my claws and skidded to a graceless stop.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    I stood there, adrenaline roaring, urging me to find him, take him down. I  closed my eyes and shuddered. Too eager. Keep that up and I'd run straight  into a trap. After a moment, the adrenaline rush ebbed and I started forward  again, cautious now, ears straining, muzzle up, sniffing as I walked.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    My eyes saved me this time. That and the sun, peeking from fast-moving  clouds. One break in the cloud cover and I caught the glint of gold through  the trees. He was downwind, crouched to the left of the path's end, waiting  for me to come barreling out.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    I retraced my last few steps, walking backward. An awkward maneuver—some  things easily accomplished on two legs are much more difficult to coordinate  with four. Once I'd gone as far as I could, I craned to look over my  shoulder. The trees closed in on me from either side. Not enough room to  guarantee a silent about-face.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    I took a careful step off the path. The undergrowth was soft and moist with  spring rain. I prodded at it, but it stayed silent. Hunkering down to stay  below branch level, I started forward, looping to slink up behind him. Once  close enough to see through the trees, I peered out. He was crouched beside  the path, as still as a statue, only the twitch of his tail betraying his  impatience.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    I found the clearest line of fire, hunched down, then sprang. I hit him  square on the back and sank my teeth into the ruff around his neck. He  yelped and started to rear up, then stopped. I let out a growling chuckle,  knowing he didn't dare throw me off in my \"condition.\" All I had to do was  hang on—\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    He dropped, letting his legs fold, his body cushioning my drop, but the  suddenness of it was enough of a surprise that I let go of his ruff. As he  slid from under me, he twisted and pinned me, his teeth clamping around the  bottom of my muzzle. I kicked at his underbelly. He snorted as my claws made  contact, but made no move to fight back.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    He looked down at me, indecision flickering in his eyes. Then he released my  muzzle and his head shot down to my throat. I wriggled, trying to pull out  of the way, but he only buried his nose in the ruff around my neck and  inhaled deeply. He shuddered, legs vibrating against my sides. A moment's  hesitation. Then a soft growl, and he twisted off me and dove into the woods  again.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    I scrambled to my feet and set off in pursuit. This time he had too much of  a head start, and I could only get close enough to see his hindquarters  bounding ahead. He flicked his tail up. Mocking me, damn him. I surged  forward, getting close enough to hear the pounding of his heartbeat. He  veered and crashed into the forest, off the trail, and I chortled to myself.  Now I had him. Cutting a fresh path would slow him down just enough to let  me—\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    A brace of ptarmigan flew up, almost under my feet, and I slid to a halt,  nearly flipping over backward in my surprise. As the panicked birds took to  the sky, I got my bearings again, looked around . . . and found myself  alone. Tricked. Damn him. And damn me for falling for it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    I found his trail, but before I'd gone a hundred feet, a gurgling moan  rippled through the silence. I stopped, ears going up. A grunt, then  panting. He was Changing.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    I dove into the nearest thicket and began my own Change. It came fast,  spurred by a healthy double shot of adrenaline and frustration. When I  finished, he was still in his thicket.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    I crept around to the other side, pulled back a handful of leaves and peered  through. He was done, but recovering, crouched on all fours, panting as he  caught his breath. By the rules of fair play, I should have given him time  to recuperate. But I wasn't in the mood for rules.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    I sprang onto his back. Before he could react, my arm went around his neck,  forearm jammed against his windpipe.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    I leaned over his shoulder. \"Did you think you could escape that easily?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    His lips formed an oath, but no sound came out. His shoulders slumped, as if  defeated. Like I was stupid enough to buy that. I pretended to relax my  grip. Sure enough, the second I did, he twisted, trying to grab me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    I slid off his back and pulled him down sideways. Before he could recover, I  was on top of him, my forearm again at his throat. His hands slid up my  sides, snuck around and cupped my breasts.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Uh-uh,\" I growled, pressing against his windpipe. \"No distractions.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    He sighed and let his hands slide away. I eased back. As soon as I did, he  flipped me over, still far more gently than usual, and pinned me as securely  as he had in wolf-form. He eased down, belly and groin against mine. He slid  his hands back to my breasts and grinned at me, daring me to do something  about it now.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    I glared up at him. Then I shot forward and sank my teeth into his shoulder.  He jerked away. I scrambled up, then pinned him, hands on his shoulders,  knees on his thighs. He struggled, but couldn't get me off without throwing  me.","brand":"Bantam","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303528386789,"sku":"NP9780553588187","price":9.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780553588187.jpg?v=1767723100","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/broken-isbn-9780553588187","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}