A.C. James's Blog, page 11
November 11, 2013
The Mermaid’s Sanctuary (Mermaid Romance Books for Adults)
The Mermaid’s Sanctuary
Hunter’s Series
Book 2
Charlie Daye
Genre: Paranormal Romance
ISBN: 1481032178
ASIN: B00F5GE0AU
Number of pages: 317
Word Count: 59,548
Cover Artist: Charlie Daye
Book Description:
Keagan is a Hunter and happy with his current situation. He is single and his only responsibility is to his family and the realms as a Hunter.
Princess Seah, is the daughter of King Caspian and the most rebellious of all his children. Desperately wanting to be free to swim in the ocean and return to her beloved sanctuary, Seah defies her father’s orders to remain in the castle. When she finds herself on the run from trackers from the warring kingdom of King Tahoe she swims for the only place she can think of… Hunter’s Beach.
Keagan and his family of Hunters are celebrating on the beach when they see Seah swimming straight for them. Keagan braces for impact as Seah launches herself out of the water and into his arms as well as his heart. As the two become closer it appears that keeping Seah out of trouble is going to be Keagan’s biggest mission yet.
Chapter 1
It was a bright sunny day and Keagan was lying back on his elbows staring out at the ocean. The weather was warm with very little breeze and was the perfect day to sit on the beach and celebrate. The Raydon family had gathered to celebrate Nikkita and Raylia’s first birthday and since their mother, Oralia, insisted that they not make a big deal out of it the family decided on having a small family bar-be-que on the beach.
Nikkita and Raylia were the first girls born to the Raydon clan and the first Hunters born with hair color other than white. They looked very much like their mother which drove their father, Niko, insane. He had already equipped the house with motion sensors and a state of the art security system for when they became old enough to date. The whole thing became a giant joke amongst the family considering it would be years before that happened.
Keagan loved his nieces and spent any free time he had with them. He even offered to babysit more often then not just so he could spend time with them. Oralia often lectured him about going out with his other brothers, Markus and Kai, so that he’d be able to find a nice woman to settle down with and have his own kids but for now Keagan was content with the way things were.
Keagan was startled out of his thoughts when he was attacked by a couple of four year old monsters. “Gotcha Uncle Keagan,” they yelled in unison.
Keagan laughed and rolled with Alexander and Xavier tucked in his arms. “You two are getting pretty good at sneaking up on people,” he said complimenting them.
Alexander and Xavier were twin boys that belonged to one of Keagan’s other brothers, Lucian and his wife Ella who was now in her second pregnancy with baby number three as it were. The boys had spent the last year in Hunter’s training, which was the custom for all Hunter males. Schooling began at three for boys and if the girls wanted to go to school for training their training began at five. To date, there were very few Hunter females in training.
“Yep,” Xander said, “we’re going to be great Hunters just like you and all the men in our family.”
“That’s right,” Xavier continued, “Then we’ll be saving all the pretty girls!”
Keagan couldn’t contain his laughter, “Is that what you think we do Xavier? Save pretty girls?”
“Yep, just look at Aunt Oralia. Uncle Niko saved her!” Xavier pointed out.
Keagan laughed. “Hey Niko! Did you know that our sole purpose as Hunters was to save pretty girls like Oralia?”
Niko laughed and hugged Oralia to his side, “Works for me!”
Everyone laughed. Keagan shook his head, “Food ready yet?”
“It’ll be done in a minute,” Lucian said, “best get your plate ready.”
After they ate, Oralia, Ella and Aminay sat around and played with the children while Sebastien, Markus, Keagan, Niko, Lucian and Kai played a three on three game of volleyball.
Aminay stood and picked up Nikkita, “Let’s take the kids in the water.”
Oralia stood up and grabbed Raylia, “You don’t think it’ll be too cold for them?”
Aminay shook her head, “No, it should be fine. Sebastien and I used to bring the boys here all the time when they were younger. It never seemed to bother them.”
“Nothing seems to bother them,” Ella giggled.
“Well, except for us,” Oralia said grinning.
Aminay smiled and called over her shoulder to the men, “We’re going in the water for a bit.”
All the men stopped and turned to look at Aminay as if she spoken a foreign language. “By yourself?” Sebastien asked.
“No dearest, Ella and Oralia will be with me,” she said teasingly.
Sebastien’s mouth formed a grim line, “Perhaps we should come with you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous Sebastien! I’m sure the three of us are more than capable of handling my grandchildren without your assistance,” she scolded.
“If you need anything just call us Mother, “Niko said trying to soothe the situation.
“At least someone remembered that I raised five boys already,” she grumbled under her breath. Ella and Oralia laughed.
Taking Alexander and Xavier by the hands, all three women waded into the ocean. They’d only been in a few minutes when Nikkita started wailing as if someone had placed her in a vat of boiling water. Niko immediately stopped what he was doing and ran into the water taking Nikkita from his mother, “There, there princess daddy’s here.” And just like that she was quiet.
“How is it that you’re the only one that can do that with her?” Aminay asked bewildered.
Niko grinned, “She’s daddy’s girl.”
Niko waded further into the water and Nikkita started whimpering again. Niko wrapped his arms around her little body and said, “It’s alright Nikki, daddy won’t let you fall.” Nikki whimpered once more before resting her head on Niko’s shoulder where she stayed completely content.
Lucian followed Niko into the water and picked up Xander on the way tossing him up into the air and catching him. Xander squealed in delight, “Again daddy again!”
“Lucian Raydon, don’t you drop him!” Ella warned.
Xavier looked up at Markus as he approached and lifted his little arms, “Uncle Markus!”
Markus swept Xavier up into his arms and tossed him high up into the air and chuckled when Ella started screaming bloody murder. After a few minutes, Markus, Lucian, Keagan and Kai began tossing the boys back and forth between them. Rather than torturing herself, Ella turned her back on them and started talking to Oralia and Aminay.
Sebastien approached Oralia and relieved her of Raylia kissing her on the cheek, “How’s grandpa’s girl?” Raylia simply laughed in response.
With the men entertaining the children, Oralia turned to Ella, “So… when do you find out what you’re having?”
Ella rubbed her barely there baby bump, “We still have a couple weeks yet.”
“What are you hoping for?” Oralia asked.
“Honestly, I’d love a girl but I’d be happy with another boy. I know Lucian wouldn’t mind another boy,” she said smiling.
Aminay grinned, “I’m sure he wouldn’t but it’s about time we start leveling out the playing field. There is way too much testosterone in this family. Not that I’d trade away any of them but more females would be nice.”
“Well, I can tell you that Niko’s hoping for a boy next time around,” Oralia said.
“Are you going to start trying again soon?” Ella asked.
“Heavens no!” Oralia said horrified.
Both Ella and Aminay laughed.
“Maybe when the girls are little older like out of diapers older,” Oralia admitted.
“What’s happening with diapers?” Niko asked interrupting their conversation.
“Ella asked when I’d be ready to try for more kids and I told her when the girls are out of diapers,” Oralia replied.
Niko grinned and kissed her shoulder, “At least we can practice till then.”
“You’re horrible!” Oralia said teasingly.
“Yes but you love me!”
Oralia smiled, “That I do.”
A sharp whistle drew the group’s attention to Sebastien. “Everyone out of the water now!” he yelled. “We’ve got incoming!”
It took only seconds for the ocean to empty. Niko stood with Nikki still wrapped in one arm while the other was protectively encasing Oralia’s waist. Ella stood behind Lucian with her hands resting on his waist wanting to protect her belly. Sebastien held Raylia with one arm and had a hold of Aminay’s hand with the other keeping her slightly to the rear of him. Kai flanked Lucian holding Xavier while Markus stood on the other side of Oralia holding Alexander. Keagan stood out in front of everyone with his arms crossed. They all stared out at the ocean as whatever was jumping in and out of the water came straight for them.
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About the Author:
Charlie Daye began writing at the tender age of thirteen. With an obsession for romance, happy endings and the supernatural she delves into your greatest fantasies and worst nightmares. She will have you laughing, crying, falling in love and getting angry. She will always give you a HEA but getting there is the journey worth taking.
Charlie Daye was born in Lynwood, California. Her greatest passions are music and writing. Her first short story was written at the age of thirteen. At the time her entire class was asked to write a short story for Halloween as part of a homework assignment. Most of the kids in the class wrote one to two page stories… Charlie wrote eight. The short story titled The Haunted House went on to win her district wide awards and was published locally. From their she began writing poetry as means of expression.
Since her writing career began she’s published several titles… The House, The Colonial, The Reservation, The Portrait, The Gypsy’s Dance, Mistaken for a Call Girl, Her Last Request and her national best seller Breeders. Four of which have been nominated for the 2012 RONE Award.
For updates on her books or just to spend some time in her fun and crazy world check out her webpage at charliedaye.com or find her on Facebook!
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Charlie-Daye-Author/344922355541838
https://twitter.com/CharlieDaye
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5778139.Charlie_Daye
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November 10, 2013
The Tempering (New Adult Paranormal Romance)
The Tempering
The Mackenzie Duncan Series
Book 1
Adrianne James
Genre: NA Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Star Bound Books
Date of Publication: 9/13/2013
ISBN: 0615879748
ASIN: B00F52ZXUK
Number of pages: 320
Word Count: 69K
Cover Artist: Gonet Design
Book Description:
The Mythology department at prestigious Harvard University is tiny—and Mackenzie Duncan has just been selected as one of the lucky few. Her love for myths and legends is deep, but she never thought any of it could be real.
After being attacked by a large wolf while walking home alone, Mackenzie realizes something is not right. She heals quickly, has suddenly become super strong, and is experiencing mood swings that can’t possibly be normal. The myths she’s studying aren’t myths at all. Werewolves are real, and she’s one of them. Fear of what she is, and who she might hurt sends Mackenzie running from the life she’s worked hard to build–and straight into the arms of a handsome Were named Geoff and into the home of his pack. Living with her new pack takes the edge off her confusion and self-loathing, but the arrival of new pack members changes the dynamic, and tests Geoff and Mackenzie’s growing relationship.
The hardest part of being a werewolf is to have no control and no memory of her time as a bloodthirsty beast. When a moon cycle passes, and she is actually able to remember bits and pieces of the night, she starts to ask questions, and the more questions she asks, the more she realizes she doesn’t like the answers. Can she set aside her own sense of morals to belong to a pack that is like a family or will she leave everything behind yet again in search of a life she can be proud of?
Excerpt:
Geoff’s grin was too damn cute. Mackenzie hated that it was so damn cute. She couldn’t understand why he had that affect on her. Most of the time, she welcomed it, but dammit, she was supposed to be mad at him.
“Uh huh.”
“You want to talk about what happened earlier?”
“You want to apologize?”
“Me? I don’t think I was the one who did anything wrong. I have told you before, if there is ever going to be you and me, and I really do want there to be, we have to take things slow. I know that your humanity is so recent that a few weeks time seems like forever when your hormones are in overdrive, but really, it’s nothing.”
“Oh, right. I’m the one to blame. I am twenty years old! I’m not a virgin, so why the hell should I have to go back to celibacy because Margret told you to take things slow? Is she in charge of your body? No one sure as hell told me that rule. And it’s not as if I tried to jump your bones right there! I kissed you. I didn’t even use tongue. All you had to do was not push me away. A peck, that’s all it would have been. But keeping up your golden boy routine is so much more important than embarrassing me in front of everyone.”
“Do you really think it would have been just a peck?” Geoff took a giant step forward, coming face to face with her. So close, she could feel the heat radiating off his skin and smell his grassy scent. Every nerve ending was on high alert as his words washed over her. “If you think I could stop with just a peck, you are mistaken.”
“Is that right? All you have ever managed to do was ogle me or hold my hand. Prove me wrong.” Mackenzie spoke with such confidence. She knew she was pushing him, but if it got his lips on hers, she was all for it.
“Mackenzie,” he growled out. His eyes were fierce and the caramel brown color caught the light in such a way that had her transfixed. If she had been able to look anywhere else, she would have seen him wet his lips ever so slightly.
She couldn’t even form words in response, only a growl escaped her. Before she knew what was happening, Geoff had his hands in her hair, gripping tightly as he pulled their bodies together and smashed his lips against hers.
With a racing heart and flaming skin, Mackenzie pressed herself closer to him. Her hands began to explore the contours of his back and found their way under his shirt. She needed to feel his skin on hers. Geoff walked them backwards, never removing his grip on her or his lips from hers, insistent on tasting every inch of her mouth. When the counter dug into her back, she pulled away slightly, just long enough to take a breath and hop up, allowing Geoff the room to stand between her legs and press himself more firmly against her .
Instead of waiting for Geoff to initiate the kiss again, she pulled him in fiercely. The moment his tongue touched the tip of her lip, she opened wide to him. Their tongues tangled together as his hands explored every inch of her body he could reach. Moaning into his mouth, Mackenzie rocked her hips forward, encouraging him. He thrust back into her with every movement. She had never felt as alive as she did in that moment.
Geoff let his lips wander away from hers, kissing along her jaw, nipping the skin over to her ear, suckling her earlobe, and then trailing kisses along her neck. Mackenzie pulled her hands from his back to his chest, running her nails along his skin the whole way. His skin erupted in goose bumps under her touch.
Mackenzie gripped the bottom of his shirt and ripped it from his body, letting the tattered cloth remains drop to the floor. She retreated so she could take in his beauty and was met with a steely glare. Geoff took a deep breath and two steps back, leaving her sitting on the counter breathing heavily in a lust-filled stupor.
“I told you I wouldn’t be able to stop at just a simple kiss. You didn’t believe me. Mackenzie, this cannot happen yet. There are reasons we must wait that I cannot tell you. I’m sorry. You know I want to. God, you know I do. But this cannot happen again. We have to prove to everyone that we are more than just lust-filled Weres.”
“Are you seriously telling me you have never had sex? Not once?” She couldn’t believe they were having the conversation. He was two hundred and forty years old, for crying out loud. And a man!
“Of course, I have, but I was mated. She died in one of the pack wars.” Instantly feeling like a jackass, Mackenzie hopped off the counter and went straight to him. Placing her hands on his chest and looking up into his eyes, she could tell that he was telling her the truth. Why would he lie about that?
“Oh, Geoff. I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me? How long has it been?” Mackenzie realized that everything made sense. His standoffishness, his ridiculous no touching rules, his fear of commitment.
“It was a long time ago. Henrietta died over a hundred years ago.”
“That is a long time. So no sex in a hundred years?” Geoff gave her a little laugh before removing her hands from him and walking to the refrigerator.
“Not with another Werewolf. I am a male, Mack. Human or not, we do need something more often than once a century.” Instantly irritated again, she huffed. So it wasn’t the act that was out, it was the act with someone he actually had a future with.
“Uh huh. So while I am waiting around, if you get horny, you just go out and find some human girl? What about me, huh? What if I get an itch I need scratched? Do I get to go out, too?” Mackenzie could see his entire body stiffen. He didn’t like that one bit, but she honestly didn’t care.
“As much as I don’t like it, if we are not dating, I have no say in what or who you do, now do I?” Taking the milk from the fridge and drinking directly from the jug before putting it back, he turned to her again and said, “You know that I think we could be good together. It’s up to you if you want to wait for me or not.”
Mackenzie stood there and watched him walk out the door.
About the Author:
Growing up, Adrianne couldn’t get her hands on enough books to satisfy her need for the make believe. If she finished a novel and didn’t have a new one ready and waiting for her, she began to create her own tales of magic and wonder. Now, as an adult, books still make up majority of her free time, and now her tales get written down to be shared with the world.
During the day, Adrianne uses her camera to capture life’s stories for clients of all ages and at night, after her two children are tucked in bed; she devotes herself to her written work. Adrianne is living the life she always wanted, surrounded by art and beauty, the written word and a loving family.
As a young adult and new adult author, Adrianne James has plans to bring stories of growing characters, a little romance, and perhaps a little magic and mythology down the line for her readers to enjoy.
www.facebook.com/authoradriannejames
www.twitter.com/Adrianne_james
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6888815.Adrianne_James
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Claimed By You (Vampire Erotica)
Claimed By You
Vranthian Vampires
Book 2
K.A. M’Lady
Genre: Sci-fi/Paranormal, Vampire Erotica
Publisher: Mojocastle Press
Date of Publication: 10/21/13
ISBN: 978-1-60180-201-9
Number of pages: 63
Word Count: 15,117
Cover Artist: Fionna Jayde
Book Description:
Magic Changes Everything When Loves Claims The Soul
On Vranthia, The Wasting is spreading, mutating, claiming not only the women of this fierce, warrior race, but stealing the lives of men, children, warriors, and now, some say, even the Elders among their race.
Rumors of the trion – the ancient joining of Vranthian, Darengy and Outworlder blood and magic as a cure – is growing beyond the halls of Prince Kuthar’s court. With his brother, Prince Draven’s recent joining, there is the first glimmer of hope for their people. But with hope comes lies and growing subterfuge. The Elders demand a rightful ruler and some will stop at nothing to get it.
Kuthar Balacjek – leader, warrior, and vampire is first in line to be the rightful king. Bred to rule from an early age, he has learned Vranthian laws, and their ancient history. He has studied their past, and fought their battles with the blood, sweat and ferocity, that only a true ruler can comprehend. But The Wasting is an enemy that even he is uncertain how to conquer. Will he find the answers he seeks in the ones whose fate he now controls? Or have they laid claim to his soul?
Cynthiana Rue – Cyn – has never been more irritated in her life. Space-napped by her best-friend and a misfit crew of alien vampires she is swept up in Vranthian legend, war and her captors’ unbridled passions. Will she fight for her freedom or give in to the unknown?
Ooen has known slavery his entire life. Bound since youth to guard the Elder, Vogeth, he has known a life of deception. And now, The Wasting has changed everything. Accused of Vogeth’s death, his fate now lies in the hands of the Vranthian ruler – something his human captive can comprehend. Will he too rebel, or will his magic help to set them all free?
Amazon ARe BN Mojocastle Press
Excerpt :
Cyn’s feet suddenly left the ground, and she was staring at a very nice ass from upside down. Her stomach dug into his large shoulder, where he’d wrapped his arm around her legs, keeping them snug against his chest while the world bounced. He strode down the hall with her trussed like a sack of potatoes.
Fear and excitement spiraled as one. “Put me down this instant,” she finally admonished.
“No.”
“I swear to God, if you don’t release me I will make your life a living hell. Now let me go,” she ordered, pushing against the wall of his back.
To her utter annoyance, he didn’t even flinch. It was like shoving against solid stone. The only thing she hurt was her fists, and she swore she could feel him laugh. She thought about grabbing a hunk of his hair and yanking on it.
“Do not even consider it, Cynthiana,” he growled. A light shushing noise sounded, and he strolled through an opening. Turning abruptly, he dumped her unceremoniously onto something large and relatively soft. Skittering backward away from him, Cyn quickly took in her surroundings.
Soft-haloed light filled the semi-small enclosure. Pale walls and shining metals in smooth lines made up the room. She’d landed on a fairly large bed in what appeared to be some sort of lodging on his spaceship. Just thinking the word spaceship completely freaked her out. “What the hell are you going to do to me?” she hedged, putting as much distance between the two of them as she could get. Fear knifed through her as the seriousness of her current situation crept around the edges of her mind.
Her back smacked the wall, and she pulled her knees tight against her chest, glaring at him. To her dismay he just stood there looking at her; tall, pale, sexy as hell and deathly still. He was the epitome of gorgeous in all his delicious, pale glory. Her heart hammered loudly in her ears, while uncertainty coiled in her stomach.
The moment stretched, and still he said nothing. Silently, he watched her, seeming to take everything in.
Slowly, her heart rate began to calm. “What?” she whispered.
He canted his head, and pale eyes the color of moon glow glittered with hunger while a smug, dangerous and determined smile spread across his delectable mouth. Cyn knew she was in trouble. Her wayward heart accelerated. “Take off your clothes,” he ordered, his voice soft, yet firm. His eyes glinted like flashes of lightning.
Cyn blinked, trying to process his request. “Oh, hell no,” she replied, shaking her head despite the flutter that crept through her belly.
“You can do it by yourself, Cynthiana, or I can do it for you. But one way or another, you will be naked in this bed. Now, take off your clothes.”
Bound To You
Vranthian Vampires
Book 1
K.A. M’Lady
Genre: Sci-Fi/Paranormal, Vampire Erotica
Publisher: Mojocastle Press
Date of Publication: August 25, 2013
ISBN: 978-1-60180-200-2
Number of pages: 93
Word Count: 22,968
Cover Artist: Fiona Jayde
Mojocastle Press Kobo Amazon BN ARe
Book Description:
Under the dark skies of Vranthia The Wasting has spread, claiming victims by the thousands. Disease, madness and death shroud this fierce warrior race.
With the recent death of their mother, Queen Srionna Balacjek, and the imminent demise of their grieving father, King Kamet; three brothers must now find their own path. Will The Wasting’s dark madness claim them all as deceit and lies turn brother against brother. Or, is the key to saving their people in the legend of the trion. And will they find it in time?
Draven Balacjek — warrior, Prince, immortal. Fierce in battle, sure and deadly as a dark a storm or the shadows he walks among, must choose between the ties of brotherhood or the possibility of a life without the parts of his soul he has bound in blood and magic.
The Vranthians have taken everything from Ook. Desecrated the Darengy people as a whole. But the visions of a grave-warrior tell no lies and the spirit of the human along with the fierce strength of his Prince, Draven Balacjek call to him as nothing before. Can their love together heal the wounds that time has wrought and free him of his darkness?
For singer, Leah Allen, the choice was never hers to make. But life, like the music her heart clings to, has a way of playing itself out. Will this strange new world and the fierce warriors she meets within it bring her shattered past the healing she has always needed or will the strangers she finds herself bound to be her hearts undoing? Can she make a choice between dark, intense Draven and exotic, muscular Ook?
Excerpt Bound to You:
Leah knew the date was over five minutes before it had even begun. Really, when was she going to learn her lesson? Never let your friends and co-workers set you up on blind dates. It was a rule. Or should have been. Or would be from now on, damn it. What the hell had she been thinking?
It was bad enough that the normal crowd that gathered at McKellon’s Pub on Wednesday nights was usually the business conference leftovers, or that they were mostly in their late fifties and on their third marriage or second mistress. But this guy…this guy just screamed slimy used-car salesman. He even had that comb-over thing going for him.
Ugh! Was Cyn trying to get back at her for something or what? She had just finished her second set–she sang four nights a week, mostly the blues, for tip money and the door fee to help make ends meet–when her friend Cyn told her that the date she’d agreed to was at the bar waiting for her. Then Cyn tilted her head to the left of the bar where car-guy, Bob, sat sucking an olive pick, poking it between his teeth like he was digging for gold or a new route to China.
The nausea started after one quick glance. “Cyn, you cannot be serious,” Leah questioned, her groan curling her lip in distaste. “What? What do you mean?” Cyn quizzically responded scanning the bar, her dark almond eyes shining brightly against the backdrop of her caramel skin. Cyn was the loveliest woman Leah had ever met. She had a deep, rich skin tone that looked like milky caramels. Her eyes were like large, dark almonds, and her lips were a perfectly sculpted pout. In a word, beautiful.
She even wore her hair shaved so short to her head that it showed her face to perfection. But, by the tone in her voice, Leah could tell she was completely bewildered by her statement. Not to mention a little hurt, as though Leah had run over her puppy, her Gucci handbag and her cell phone all at the same time. Drama! “Seriously, Cyn. Are you freaking kidding me? You set me up on a date with serial killer Joe over there? I mean, look at him. Mr. Comb-over? The dude picking his teeth?”
Cyan’s bark of laughter startled Leah so badly she jumped, and when she looked back at her friend she was bent over, holding her side, laughing so hard tears were running down her face. “Jeez, Leah,” she finally gasped. “What kind of friend do you take me for? I know it’s been a dry spell for ya, but ain’t nobody that desperate, girl,” she hiccupped.
“Glad I could be so amusing,” Leah huffed, blowing the length of her dark hair from her eyes. “So if it’s not Greasy Bob, then who? Cyn stood up straight and taking Leah’s arm, pulled her over behind a column that had obviously been blocking her view. Sitting on the last bar stool, back up against the wall, Leah spotted Mr. Perfect.
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About the Author:
Author K.A. M’Lady lives a few stone throws from corn fields, chaos and congestion; all lying on the outskirts of the many burbs of Chicago. KA M’lady spends her days calculating life expectancies, mortality and the certainty of death and taxes while in her free time the dead wander freely, buy shoes, homes, the occasional odd business or two and, if you even think of charging them too much in taxes…well, let’s just say the tax man may never come back. But if he does he might just shamble a bit.
An All Romance eBooks bestselling author, K.A. M’lady’s work has been described as scary, descriptive, beautiful, dark, frightening, addictive, sexy and believable. She loves to read paranormal romances, watching horror movies, westerns on Sundays with her husband, playing fetch with her pocket beagle, Chevy and buying weird shoes. Her friends call her eccentric, her family refuses to comment. She’s been lost in the world of fiction since she was a small child, and frankly, never wants to be found—at least not any time soon. “Myth and magic builds dreams and inspirations – and in an insane world, it is our dreams that spark the revolution of change. No matter which world is being conquered. Within our dreams – all things are possible.”
Web site – http://www.kamlady.net/
K.A. M’lady Blog – http://kamladyotherworld.blogspot.com/
Paranormal Monday Yahoo Group – http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ParanormalMonday
Facebook – http://www.facebook.com/kamlady
Facebook Faith Savage – http://www.facebook.com/FaithSavageDemonHuntress
Goodreads – http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2777271.K_A_M_Lady
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Poisoned Web (Science Fiction Romance)
Poisoned Web
The Deizian Empire
Book Two
Crista McHugh
Genre: Fantasy Romance /
SF Romance / Paranormal Romance
ISBN: 978-1-940559-99-5
ASIN:
Number of pages: 278
Word Count: 78K
Cover Artist: Jaycee Delorenzo
at Sweet ‘N Spicy Designs
Book Description:
The fate of the empire hangs on one slave breaking her silence…
As the Deizian Empire prepares for the upcoming wedding of Emperor Titus Sergius Flavus and Azruha, one mystery remains unsolved—the sudden and unexplained death of the former emperor. And as her wedding gift to Titus, Azurha wants to give him answers. She suspects an unknown poison was involved, and her search for the truth enlists two unlikely allies.
Modius Varro’s thirst for knowledge caused an uproar in Emona three years ago and exiled him to the border town of Madrena. But when Titus falls victim to the same poison, his expertise in medicine becomes essential in solving both the riddle of the former emperor’s death and finding a cure to save the current one. His search leads him to far reaches of the Alpirion realm, to an ancient culture shrouded in secrets, and into the arms of one slave who must break her silence to save the empire.
Short Excerpt:
A roar ripped through the city of Emona, slapping against the walls of the Imperial Palace and making them quake under the force of the noise. The members of the Legion stiffened, their fingers tightening around the hilts of their swords. And all but two of the slaves ran deeper into the inner confines of the palace.
Izana and Farros stood in the middle of the courtyard, refusing to shrink in fear like the other Alpirions.
She glanced at her fellow slave, meeting his gaze in a silent challenge before bolting toward the outer wall. Neck and neck, they raced, the sun beating down on their skin and the thin shimmer of sweat that coated it. Izana ducked under Farros’s well-muscled arms when they reached the narrow staircase to the upper ramparts, using her smaller size to her advantage. She wanted to be the first person to see the newly engaged imperial couple enter the palace. She needed to see her mistress wearing the crown proclaiming her to be the future empress. And she prayed that this would be the first step in gaining freedom for her people.
Her lungs burned in protest as she ran into the wall, but her heart leaped with joy. Even though the carriage carrying Emperor Sergius and his bride-to-be was over a mile down the road, the crowd still cheered outside the palace walls. The people loved Lady Azurha, loved that she had been one of them, that she had walked along these very streets before she found her way into the palace and won the heart of the emperor. By now, the whole city knew how she’d saved his life from Pontus, one of the emperor’s cousins who coveted the throne for himself.
But very few knew the whole truth—that Azurha was the Rabbit, the most feared assassin in the empire. Varro had made those directly attending to the imperial couple swear to this a secret, but how quickly had the gossip spread before he made them take that oath?
Farros leaned against the wall beside her, his massive chest still heaving from their race. Did he know the truth?
“I think my lady’s fears were for naught,” she said, sweeping her hand toward the crowded streets below. “Look at how they cheer for an Alpirion empress.”
His dark eyes glinted with cynicism. “They cheer now, but how long do you think it will last? How many Deizians will bend their knee to a former slave?”
“More than you think.” But his words jabbed a sliver of fear into her chest. She chewed her bottom lip as she started counting the enemies Lady Azurha had made in the last three weeks. For starters, there was Governor Hostilius and his spoiled daughter, Claudia. Not to mention some other Deizians who believed the emperor was soiling the royal line by marrying a woman outside their race.
As though he knew what she’d been thinking, Farros gave a slow nod. “The Deizians may be few, but they hold all the power.” The muscle rippled along his jaw before he added, “For now.”
Nervous laughter bubbled up from her throat. “Are you suggesting someone is plotting to overthrow the emperor and his people?”
“Our people managed to withstand Deizian conquest for centuries.”
The dark intensity of his statement quickened her pulse. She took a step back, studying the man beside her. Farros was built more for the gladiatorial ring than the imperial household, where he worked in the stables. The sleeves of his tunic rose high enough to partially expose a tattoo on the inside of his bicep. He stared at the procession below, the sun reflecting off his freshly shaven head and coppery skin, the corded muscles in his forearms flexing as he pumped his hands into fists. If he wanted, he could snap her neck in a matter of seconds.
He looked back to her, his face sliding into the flirtatious smile he normally wore around her. Only now, she knew it was a mask. She’d glimpsed the man behind it.
“Why do you look so worried, Izana?”
“Because you talk like a man destined for trouble.”
Farros took her hand and pulled her back to the wall, caging her between his body and the stone bricks. The pounding of her heart drowned out the celebration below, but she still heard his low voice whispering in her ear, “As slaves, we’ve been told that as long as we obey our masters, we have nothing to fear. But that may not always be the case.”
Her breath caught, giving her a few precious seconds to choose her words carefully. “You are not my master.”
“Come now, Izana,” he continued, his hot breath bathing the hollow of her neck where the mark of her former owner was still visible. “How many men have mastered you over the years?”
Fury sizzled through her veins, driving away her fear. She rammed her elbow under his ribs. The air whooshed out of his lungs, and his arms retracted to cradle his injury, allowing her to escape. She retreated until she was well out of arm’s reach before replying, “I’m no longer engaged in that business, and unless you wish for me to tell my mistress everything, you’ll keep your hands to yourself.”
Her feet flew down the stairs in tempo with her pulse, never stopping until she was safely within the palace. Thankfully, Farros didn’t give chase. He was probably still doubled over on the ramparts.
Varro, the palace steward, stood beside the locked doors leading to the emperor’s private quarters. He pressed his hand against the plate as she approached, his brown eyes never missing a thing. “Is something wrong, Izana?”
She shook her head. “The sun was very warm today. I’m sure Lady Azurha will be ready for a dip in the tepidarium when she returns.”
Varro nodded, even though his expression told her he didn’t quite believe her. It didn’t matter. Once she was behind those doors, she was safe. But despite the cool tile beneath her bare feet, her cheeks still burned, and her gut twisted as though it held a den of snakes.
From now on, she needed to be wary of Farros.
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About the Author:
Growing up in small town Alabama, Crista relied on story-telling as a natural way for her to pass the time and keep her two younger sisters entertained.
She currently lives in the Audi-filled suburbs of Seattle with her husband and two children, maintaining her alter ego of mild-mannered physician by day while she continues to pursue writing on nights and weekends.
Just for laughs, here are some of the jobs she’s had in the past to pay the bills: barista, bartender, sommelier, stagehand, actress, morgue attendant, and autopsy assistant.
And she’s also a recovering LARPer. (She blames it on her crazy college days)
For the latest updates, deleted scenes, and answers to any burning questions you have, please check out her webpage www.CristaMcHugh.com
Find Crista online at:
Twitter: twitter.com/crista_mchugh
Facebook: www.facebook.com/CristaMcHugh
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3035791.Crista_McHugh
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November 7, 2013
My Thoughts on NaNoWriMo
This month kicked off the annual NaNoWriMo challenge. I wasn’t going to say much about it because I think Chuck Wendig has done a pretty good job on his blog talking about national novel writing month. Or I like to call it the put your money where your mouth is and get off your ass and go write that novel month. If you want to be a writer you must sit your ass in the chair with your fingers on the keyboard and… well… actually write something.
It’s all about the word count. A sort of sucky kind of productivity but it gives you a taste of what it means to be a writer and teaches you the value of editing. It’s much better to have a shitty first draft than a blank page sitting in front of you. You can’t edit if you have nothing to fix.
There is no wormhole that can shortcut the spacetime gap between your desire to write and your ability to do it properly. There is no better way to learn craft and become a better writer than actual writing.
I got this idea from somewhere else. But I read so many blogs, authors, and books about craft that I couldn’t tell you where the idea originated. The blank page can be intimidating. Creation has never intimidated me. When I first started writing I stuck with short stories. These short bursts of creativity were much easier to manage. Getting lost in a much longer work scared me more than a blank page. Rambling on into 50K or more was some scary shit.
So I used to have a post-it note on my computer monitor that said: “I give myself permission to write a shitty first draft. I will fix it on revision.”
It wasn’t an original idea. I read it somewhere. But it really seemed to help. It freed me from worrying about writing a clean first draft. I could produce an utter piece of jacked up shit and it wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t matter because no one would read it. It wouldn’t leave my harddrive and venture out into the world until I deemed it ready for consumption.
And the very first book you write might never be ready for public consumption.
That’s ok.
That’s normal.
The point, the take-away, is that you actually finished a first draft of a full length novel. That’s huge. You’re a writer. You completed something that most people only dream of. That’s pretty fucking awesome!
Last week another author who I admire (ok, I’m a total fan girl) sent me the image below on a day when I’d received yet another rejection letter. I have replaced the post-it note by printing this and hanging it on the wall above my desk. It’s an ever present reminder of what motivates every word that takes the page.
What motivates your writing?
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November 5, 2013
The Keeper: Revenge
The Keeper: Revenge
The Keeper Series
Book 2
O.L. Ramos
Genre: Paranormal Romance
ASIN: B00ERHTOUE
Number of pages: 296
Word Count: 112,930
Cover Artist: Dane Low
Book Description:
If the world you lived in was someday revealed to be nothing but a lie, would you really want the truth? Elizabeth McBeth did, and she’s paid the price for it…
After almost 10 years since Liz’s mother was taken from her, Liz finally found her mother, Mary. But Mary has been forever changed, something that Liz will have to accept. The beginning of happier times, one would think…
The conspiracy has been exposed; Liz, Vincent, Mary and Michael had all thought that the vampire plot had been destroyed. They should have never underestimated Klein.
Klein has reinforced his armies, splitting the entire vampire species with the question… is Klein the vampiric messiah? Unfortunately for the heroes and the world itself, Klein has set in motion a plan that will destroy the world and recreate it in his own image.
Will the group be able to defeat Klein and restore the balance to nature? Or are they already doomed?
Chapter 1
It had been several months since the uproar at the Coronam estate. Klein had been deemed an enemy of the state for the entire vampire nation, the ones that wanted to stay on Vincent’s good side, anyway. In all honesty, the entire time since then had been both frantic and surreal. Vincent’s declaration before the Coronam asserting that he was Cain’s enforcer had caused a massive schism in the entire vampire race.
The bloodsuckers had always been a chaotic, selfish bunch. But at least with a strong government like the Coronam reining them in, they were fearful of getting tortured … or worse. The idea that mass executions could be a consequence had never entered their minds, however. Yet now, that’s all anyone could think about. The united stand made by Vincent and Michael had finally broken the camel’s back. Some of the more fearful vampires, the ones prone to paranoia, believed it was an example of what Klein had been warning about for over a thousand years. They believed Klein to be the true messiah of Cain, and Vincent to be a mere false prophet sent to lead them astray. This group of vampires announced themselves as the Hand, a creepy mishmash of politics and skewed religion.
They droned on and on about how Klein was the voice of Cain, and they were the ones who would take action on Cain’s behalf. It was all pretty shady, and there wasn’t a thing that we could do about it. Unfortunately, the entire world behind the veil was becoming increasingly unstable. Vincent was forced to allow Algarus to accept the Hand’s request for freedom of religion, even though everyone suspected the whole thing was just a front for a terrorist organization. But nothing could be proven.
Even the werewolves had ostracized Michael. Although he was never truly accepted because of his close association with Vincent, Michael could at least always request help in the past. Now, he was cut off from almost all of werewolf society. Almost all of them resented Michael openly, dismissing his claims that a werewolf was to blame for Klein’s success. They saw his actions as the beginning for a total civil war amongst all supers. When dozens of supers were caught acting as willing slaves for openly rebellious vampires, Michael realized that there might be truth to the charges imposed against him. This caused him no shortage of pain.
I often found myself staring outside my window wondering how things had worsened so quickly. But then again, I wasn’t the same person I’d been before all this started. I was now hardened by the experiences I’d been made to endure, decisions I’d had to make. Things I truly hoped to repress.
In the past months, I had witnessed Mom, I mean, Mary, go through a very thorough and intensive training regimen. The guys had run through everything from battle concepts and strategies to weaknesses of almost every super in existence. I have to say it that way because that was another key point that Michael always stressed to Mary: to be ready for anything and everything. That it was impossible to know of every super in the world. It was crazy, considering Michael had an almost encyclopedic knowledge of thousands of different kinds of supers. But after dealing with the Hela poison, I could definitely see why he was being so cautious.
I guess that brings me to Bobby. Poor Bobby. His entire clan was ousted from the slayer community, even the children who had never known combat. This caused many fights to break out … even one Anvil clan member’s death. The majority of Bobby’s clan blamed him for siding with a vampire and a werewolf. I don’t know the specifics of what happened, but I’m positive that the slayers were just trying to evade the wrath of Klein’s Hand and the Coronam, too. It was generally agreed that the Hela poison was a threat to the entire world, both supernatural or otherwise. Still though, an example had to be made. And so Bobby took his entire clan and relocated all 188 of them to the only place they could safely go. About thirty or so miles from Angel’s Retreat.
And I guess that’s why I’m keeping this diary. It’s cliché as all get out, but for all my big talk … I’m terrified. Everything has changed. And I’m not even sure it’s for the better either. The reality is—
A loud knock announces the presence of a visitor. I turn in my chair to look at my bedroom entrance and see Vincent. He has a curious look to his face as he leans on my door and waits for me to say something.
“Hey Vincent,” I say with a bit of a sigh. “How’s it going?”
“Same old, same old,” he answers as he walks into the room and heads straight to the balcony. He opens it up and sits on the guardrail. “How about you, Goldilocks? You seem to be brooding on a Michael-esque scale lately. The hell’s wrong with you anyway?”
“What do you think is wrong with me?” I reply angrily, the sharp tone in my voice echoing throughout my room. I give it a chance to linger before I continue. “You know … it’s just that I really thought we won. Seriously. You guys kicked some major bad guy ass. I thought that would be that. My mother could come home and be back with Dad, I could have some semblance of an ordinary life, I don’t know.”
“Why be ordinary, though?” he asks with a brief turn to me before he returns to browsing the outside scenery. “You were special before, you were special during. You’re special now. Why all the teenage angst? So everything didn’t end up roses … it sucks. We’re working on it, though. Besides, is this the way you treat me after not seeing me for two days? That’s hurtful.”
He pretends to get stabbed in the back, does a horrible silent death scene and then throws himself off the balcony. I merely shake my head.
“Wow, tough crowd,” Vincent says as he floats up and hovers in the air a little above my balcony. Such a strange sight, but I’m completely desensitized to it. “You really are on a bummer aren’t you? What really gives?”
“Oh, I don’t even know …” I admit reluctantly with a deep sigh. “I decided to keep this stupid diary. I thought it would make me feel better if I could just write out my thoughts. Maybe keep them here, and the negativity would only be here. In secret. Then I could go and live my life as if nothing ever happened. But it didn’t work out like that at all. I wrote everything down and it just upset me more. What good have we done? Everything is just so much worse now. And this stupid diary is just a reminder of how much we’ve failed.”
“If it’s so bad, why not just throw it out?” He asks, as if the issue was a simple one. “Besides, you know that things have to get worse before they can truly get better.”
“If it exists, someone can find it,” I explain, already defeated. I know there is little sense in what I am saying. But it’s the way I feel. “Maybe someone can know the truth about what we really tried to do. If the world ends, I mean.”
“What?” Vincent straggles his question with a chuckle. He stops his silly flying and lands on the balcony. “Seriously, what happened in the two days I was gone? This is the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said to me. And lady, you’ve had your fill.”
I shake my head slowly. I know he’s right. But what a person thinks and feels aren’t always on the same page. I know I’m not helping things. But I can’t just press a switch and change the way I feel.
“While you were gone, Bobby had to make an example again,” I explain as I inhale deeply, hoping to forget about the trauma. “Three slayers came in and tried to kidnap me, or kill me. I don’t know what they were going to do. Before they even had a chance to touch me, Michael was on top of all three of them and was carrying them out like a bunch of … I don’t know, rabbits or something.”
He looks at me in disbelief. He’s clearly angry, but my strangely odd word choice has him a little off balance.
“Michael manhandled them, Vincent,” I say, irritated. “It just looked weird. They were kicking and screaming and they just never stood a chance.”
“And how are you?” Vincent asks as he walks around the room examining it. “The place seems to be all right, so I guess Mikey didn’t wreck the place too badly. By your kinda crazy word choice I’m guessing he didn’t hurt them at all, huh? Knowing him, he probably just dragged them back to Bobby by the nape of their necks. Oh, I get it now; rabbits. Heh, pretty good.”
“Yeah, it was still mildly terrifying, though,” I answer as I start to feel myself chuckle as well. The image in my head about the incident is pretty funny, if you can get past the three guys trying to hurt me part.
“I’m sure it was,” Vincent says as he switches his attention and walks towards me slowly with a warm smile on his face. “But you do know that between Mary, Michael and I, there’s really no chance anyone can harm you, right? I mean come on sweetheart, you’re stacked.”
I laugh a little more before shrugging my shoulders.
“So what kind of example did Bobby make?”
“He killed the one who made the plan. Skyles was his name,” I report, once again feeling the burden of the tragedy. “Did you know him? He expelled the other two.”
“Skyles … never heard of him. Did they at least find out why or what they were trying to do?”
“More or less,” I say as I look down at the ground and inhale deeply again. “They were trying to take me to the slayer leadership and barter for their family to live within their community again. Bobby came by and apologized … he explained that no matter what, what happened had to happen. He said that almost all of the slayer leaders know it had to be done. This was just—”
“Damage control,” Vincent says, finishing my sentence. “Yeah, politics will kill you every time. I knew that something must have rained on your parade, though. Want to go downstairs and get a drink?”
I chuckle. I don’t know if Vincent remembers it, but he drank the entire house dry before he left.
“How are we going to do that, smart guy?” I ask playfully. It was good to see him. Every time anyone leaves the house, I feel vulnerable and lonely … and it was only getting worse. “You drank everything in the house before you left on your little excursion.”
“A, it was not an excursion,” Vincent says with a mischievous smile. “It was a fact-finding mission. Unfortunately, not much of said facts were to be found. I’m kinda in a mood myself, now that I think of it. I did find out that some of the smaller islands of the Dodecanese was hosting a Klein party … the jerk. He’s even got Greek critters siding with him.”
“But why would he be doing that?” I ask, puzzled.
“Not done yet,” Vincent says as he raises a finger to hush me. “And B, you should know better than to think I wouldn’t be prepared. I stocked everything back up and even ordered an underground cellar to be constructed to house our reserves.”
It takes me a moment to understand what he means.
“You’re talking about the booze?!” I say in shock. “Why wouldn’t you just gloss over that and continue talking about what you found in Greece?”
“Far be it for me to allow my reputation to be sullied,” Vincent answers sarcastically before stifling a laugh. “Besides, Greece has been there forever; it’s not going anywhere. Booze has to be maintained and regulated around here. It’s like an endangered species. And besides again, it’s a part of Greece, but if you want to be technical it’s really a series of islands off the coast of Greece. So I didn’t find it in Greece, I found it near Greece.”
I grunt in frustration before slapping him. I examine him to see his reaction but he just turns his gaze up to me and smiles.
“Feeling better, are you?” He asks knowingly. How I hate him and his sneakiness. “That’s more like it. To thy own self be true. Silly, down on her luck Izzy. That isn’t Izzy at all. Wow, say that five times fast. Anyhoo, stop being such a hard luck case and focus on the task ahead.”
I continue analyzing his smile before I sit down again. He’s right. I shake my head because I know that telling him that he’s right is about as painful as a root canal. But not telling him he’s right becomes much, much worse.
“I know,” I say as I admit my lack of options. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s been hard. This last month we haven’t sat down as a family, or whatever you want to call our group. Not even one Sunday dinner. We’re not running this like a home. We’re running this like a prison.”
“Well, this is the first I’ve heard of it,” Vincent says as he straightens out his dress shirt. “But have you told the furry boy scout anything about how you feel?”
“No, I haven’t,” I answer with yet another sigh. I suppose it’s not fair to be bothered if I haven’t even given the guys a chance to fix things. But I just felt restricted. I shrug those feelings off before continuing. “I know you both have your reasons to do what you do. Klein needs to be found. The supers are all scared and getting desperate. Everyone is afraid that the humans will find out the truth of the world because the vampires all seem to be getting ready for a civil war. Mary needs to be in fighting shape, my father needs to be watched and guarded, and I need to be protected.”
“All while keeping the balance,” Vincent points out in a matter-of-fact tone. “As you can see, it’s more than a day’s work. You gotta have more faith. This guy had a ton of failsafe tools, people, and secrets to work on. It’s a thousand years of this guy thinking that I was coming to kill him and take his seat of power in the Coronam. He was ready before we ever even thought about going. As much as I hate to say it, the guy’s smart. He was prepared.”
Vincent leans back and stretches his arms; he lets out a yawn. It’s the worst fake yawn in the history of fake yawns. I suppose when you haven’t slept or felt exhaustion in 1600 years, you forget these things.
“Man, this is boring,” he finally says as he snaps to attention. “I feel like I should be asleep. I guess it’s been too damn long … Anyhoo, where was I? Oh yeah, the Dodecanese. Thing about Greece is that it’s relatively close to Romania and it holds a very important position in Europe. It’s a brilliant strategic choice. If Klein wants to hit the Coronam, he can, rather easily. On top of that, there are so many islands out there, not many are gonna find him. I found him because I figure he has vastly underestimated my information network.” Vincent smiles proudly before poking me softly in my right upper arm.
“Come on,” he suggests with a nod of his head. “Let’s have a drink, you could use one. I’ll tell you all about it. We also have to talk about what we’re going to do to liven this personality of yours permanently. I can’t have you slapping me every time you feel down in the dumps.”
I stand up slowly and look at his incredible, deep blue eyes.
“I don’t know why you say that,” I say slowly. “I have no problem slapping you all day long if that’s what needs to happen. You gotta do what you gotta do, right?”
“I suppose so,” Vincent agrees with several short nods of his head. “Of course, you’re just going to end up breaking your hand.”
I laugh a little before I end up pushing Vincent’s chest. We walk out of my bedroom and take the obscenely long journey to the common area of Angel’s Retreat. The place is still as beautiful as ever. The décor is a very classy blending of old European castle with modern Hollywood flair, but all of it seems gray and blurred to me. It has become my prison over these last few months. And I am really sick of it. When we finally make it to the bar, Vincent urges me to sit. A change, and a rather drastic one, from me playing bartender to Vincent’s regular drunk roles.
“Wow … What a treat!” I exclaim as I sit on the barstool, something I had become increasingly familiar with in times of stress. “I can’t believe we’re having a drink and I’m on this side of the counter. Feels pretty different. It’s nice. If I get Vincent-drunk, will you help me make it to my bed like I always help you?”
Vincent clears his throat before raising his finger again. Oh geez, here he goes again.
“Two things I have to point out again. Apparently I’m gonna be doing this all day here,” he says as he puts down the bottle of vodka he was opening. “A, again, is that you should never make suggestive statements like that to me unless you want sarcasm as a reply. You should know better than that. I.e. you want me to help you to bed, don’t you?”
I slap him in midsentence just for the sake of slapping him. I have to admit, it’s a strange relationship we share.
“And B, again,” Vincent says as he shakes the strike away from his face and continues his rant. “Saying that someone is Vincent-drunk implies that I’m nothing but a no-good drunk. That’s also very hurtful. Besides, you’re the minor here. You should just be glad I’m even allowing you to drink.”
“You? Allowing me? That’s hysterical,” I say as I pick up the vodka cocktail Vincent has slid over to me. “Admit it Vincent, you just love the company. Michael doesn’t drink much anymore and you just want a drinking buddy.”
“Yeah, well, it’s all a part of my nefariously genius plan to get into your barstool,” Vincent says as he raises his own cocktail to me. “And before you think about it, I’m not gonna let you slap me again. You’ve used up your limit for today. Now, as is customary we will follow the beautiful tradition of—”
“Yeah, I know,” I say as I raise my glass and tap his with it. I answer his smile with one of my own. “The beautiful tradition of blessing our drink. It is a beautiful tradition. Salud, Vincent.”
“And to you, Izzy,” he says as he brings his glass to his mouth. “Cent’anni.”
“One hundred years to you,” I say. Knowing him, this is probably a test.
“Very good, you’ve been keeping to your studies.”
“No,” I point out a little sharply. “You just say it so often it’s hard to forget.”
Vincent scratches his head and chugs down his drink. He grabs the vodka bottle and drags it along the counter until it’s in between the two of us. He looks at me longingly, licking his lips suggestively. It was good to see at least one of us behaving normally.
“So, I was thinking about this anyway, before you even brought it up; so was Michael,” he says as he opens the bottle and begins to pour himself another round. “We both feel that a lot has happened in such a short amount of time, we should probably reopen the discussion about what you should be doing with your life in the meantime. I’m not going to say that what’s been happening lately is normal for us, but it has happened several dozens of times in our lives. But we can’t expect you, in your short nineteen years, to be dealing with it anywhere near as easily as we have been. I’m surprised you haven’t snapped like you just did before.”
“Well thanks a lot,” I say before chugging down my own drink and snatching the bottle from Vincent’s hands. He only looks at me and shakes his head. “If you knew I wouldn’t react well, why keep me here?”
“I don’t really know what you expected us to do,” Vincent admits almost in frustration. “You yourself said you were never much of a social butterfly.”
“More like a social spider.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” Vincent agrees before taking the bottle away from me as I was helping myself to another drink. “Everything in moderation there, drunko. What I was getting at was that we didn’t really have a lot of choices here. We could have sent you back to the campus, and you could have kept working, but for what? You never really mentioned liking it there. Besides, everyone in town doesn’t even know you exist anymore. I could try to screw around with their heads again and give them back their memories of you, but that’s a real loose option. I don’t wanna do that if I can help it. It’s too dangerous, even with my newfound powers.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” I answer in more evident frustration. The whole thing sucks. He’s right and I know it. But that doesn’t really matter. It was different when I was still searching for my mother. I had a plan and a goal. We had achieved that goal and my mother was back and safe. Now all I did was take alternating courses of education by the guys … that was losing its fun, to say the least. “It was easy for me to not appreciate everything in my old life while I had it, but it’s all I think about now. I even miss the shrink visits. Don’t misunderstand me, I know what you’re saying, but there has to be something better to do with my life. I love you guys, I always will. You both have saved my life, you saved my mother’s, I mean … there’s no repaying any of that. But when are we going to get off of terror alert red here?”
“I was just getting to that,” he continues as he pours himself another drink. Wow, I never noticed he drank the one he had. Lush. “Michael and I have been thinking about what we could do to make your time pass by a little easier. Michael wants you to be protected and watched over at all times. I disagree with that because you do need some level of freedom, or else you’ll end up resenting the both of us.”
“I would never,” I argue in almost a scream. “I just want some fun. I’ve watched everything I can on TV; I’m caught up on all my reading. I would go back to studying all the supers that you guys know about, but what’s the point? Michael is a rolodex of information on the subject. Maybe if I could get my job back at Jack’s Place? Go back to the university, have a normal life? I’m not going to do anything crazy.”
“You say that, but you don’t know what you’ll do,” he contends firmly. “I don’t have you on a leash. None of us do. But what I’m saying is don’t take this temporary phase of you being down in the dumps for more than what it is. It’ll pass. Deep down you know what the right thing to do is. You can’t really risk too much crazy behavior right now. I bet Klein thinks we aren’t anywhere near here, especially with all the false information and dead ends we’ve been leading him on with. But we can’t risk lives with that type of hunch. Jack’s wouldn’t be so bad, because why would you have a job if you were with us? But on the other hand, there’s nothing to do around here but visit Jack’s. Same deal with the university. We gotta take this slow.”
“How slow?”
“Not very,” he assures me before pouring me a little more vodka. “But reasonably slow. So why don’t you start thinking about what you want to do when you grow up, huh? The choice is still yours, eventually. If you wanna walk away from all of this when Klein’s dead, then you have that option open. It’s just not open to you right now because we can’t in good conscience let you get yourself killed.”
“So what are you saying, Vincent? Stop with the theatre and spit it out.”
He grasps his glass and stares me in the eyes before presenting his glass to mine again. “What I’m saying is, give us some ideas,” Vincent says with a smile as he raises his glass. “And you’re free to go do whatever you want. Just don’t skip town, huh?”
I smile back at him and I can’t help hugging him over the counter. He was obviously not expecting this as I sense him almost jerk in place.
Now what should I do?
Ab
out the Author:
From what I understand, the first line of this thing is where I say something really interesting that wins you over. After all, they say that you know within seconds of meeting a person whether you like them or not.
So…yeah… I got nothing. But if there is one thing I know, it’s that through stories we discover the world, learn about history and traditions; and in doing that, we become who we are as an individual.
Since I was a very young child, my only dream was to become an author one day. I wanted to reach people with my words, maybe even entertain them. I wanted to touch their lives and give them something to think about. After all, I am a loveable blowhard kinda guy… that’s gotta be entertaining, right?
In my life, I’ve done many things; from supervising sales for a retail giant chain to being a Deputy Sheriff. You would think that a person who had been shot at for a living would be brave enough to write a biography without all the sarcastic quips. Unfortunately no, that’s one of my main flaws as the above mentioned blowhard.
Anyhoo, please feel free to drop me a line! If you loved the book, I wanna hear about it. If you hated every word of it, please make sure to let me know, but please avoid the CAPS LOCK! The font can be a little… demeaning. Make sure to have fun guys! They say you only live twice; and if that’s true, we’re at least half done.
FB: https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Keeper-Series-by-OL-Ramos/186250681525531
Twitter: https://twitter.com/kpftwin
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18373829-the-keeper
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November 4, 2013
Heritage (Fantasy) by S.M. Boyce
The Grimoire Saga
Book Three
S. M. Boyce
Genre: Fantasy
Publisher: Caffeinated Books Publishing
Date of Publication: November 5th, 2013
ISBN: 1939997100
ASIN: B00F2Y46I6
Number of pages: 260 print pages
Word Count: 83,000
Cover Artist: Heidi Sutherlin of My Creative Pursuits
Book Description:
Heritage is the third novel in the epic Grimoire Saga.
Kara Magari isn’t normal, even by Ourea’s standards—and in a world of shape-shifters and soul stealers, that’s saying something. To the royalty, she’s a loose cannon. To the masses, she’s a failure. But Kara’s arrival in Ourea started a war, and she’s going to end it.
An ancient isen named Stone takes an interest in Kara’s training, and it turns out he has more answers than he originally led her to believe. In an effort to unearth a secret that might end the bloodshed, Kara instead discovers an ugly truth about her family—and how much she has in common with an infamous mass-murderer.
Braeden Drakonin has slowly rebuilt his life after the betrayal that tore it apart. His father wants him dead, and frankly, his so-called allies wouldn’t mind that either. Private alliances are formed. Secrets are sold. Tension is driving the armies apart. A single battle will end this war, and it’s coming. Braeden may be a prince, but it will take more than that to survive. He must take the fight to his father’s door—and win.
EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER ONE
A FRESH START
A hand reached around Kara’s waist and tugged her closer. Her body shifted over cotton sheets. The hem of her nightshirt caught and inched upward along her back. Hot breath sailed down her neck, setting her nerves on fire. She snuggled into a bare shoulder, her nose brushing against bumps of muscle as she itched to get ever closer to whomever held her.
Warm skin burned her cheek. A second, thick hand brushed hair from her face. Her blond locks fell over her shoulder like a sheet of silk.
Kara opened her eyes. A haze clouded the corners of her vision—the edges of a dream. She frowned. There was no fun in knowing none of this was real. It just meant she wouldn’t be able to enjoy it as much.
Braeden smiled down at her. A few dark hairs fell across his olive face, blocking her view of those black eyes that glittered with mischief. He pulled her a little closer with his rough hands, even though no space remained between them. Her frown dissolved. Every bit of her crackled with energy. He ran his fingers along the hem of her shirt, pulling it higher.
She poked his side. “I miss you.”
He ran a hand through her hair. “Come see me, then.”
“You know I can’t. Not yet.”
He grinned. “Liar.”
She faltered and glanced down at the mattress. Of course she couldn’t leave. Not even a month ago, she discovered she was an isen—a creature that could steal souls. Though she hadn’t even known what an isen was before she discovered the crazy world of Ourea, she had apparently always belonged to the hidden realm of monsters and magic. Her mother passed the isen gene to her, and their bloodline had a terrible curse: power and magic came easily to them. It sounded great at first, sure, but the power came too easily. Kara couldn’t control herself. She could kill with barely any effort.
Every day, her control dwindled a little more. If she used the air to turn a page in a book, she ripped out the sheet instead. If she tried to hit a target with her favorite attack—red sparks that danced through her fingers like lightning—she blasted the target to bits. She refused to spar with anyone for fear of what she might accidentally do to her opponent.
After she discovered she was an isen, she’d spent every second of free time with her mentor, Stone. They traveled to a safe place to train: her village, the one she inherited from the ancient ghost who had given her the Grimoire.
Kara hadn’t left the village yet only because she couldn’t do anything without destroying something.
As if Braeden read her thoughts, he wrapped her in a hug. “It’ll be all right.”
“I’m just so lost, Braeden. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I don’t know how to stop.”
He pulled away and held her face in his hands. “You don’t have to do it alone, you know.”
“You’re right, I guess.” She smiled and slipped her arms around him in return, burrowing her face into his torso. Her fingers tightened around his waist.
Something shifted in her palms. A sharp crack cut through the dream. The crash of breaking glass rocked her. Braeden tensed in her arms.
Kara pulled away, trying to figure out what was going on. Braeden studied her, his smile gone. A fissure inched along his face as if he were porcelain and she’d dropped him. It splintered, dividing his handsome features into pieces. His eyebrows shifted upward, likely to question what was going on—or worse, what she was doing to him.
Kara gasped. Oh, Bloods! have I hurt him, too?
She reached for him, unable to form words. Fragments of his shirt broke away like ice in her hands. The cracks in his face widened.
His voice shook. “You’re not alone.”
“Braeden!” she screamed.
Kara bolted upright in bed, her scream lingering in her chest.
White light swam in her vision, blinding her. Something crashed again, as if on replay from her nightmare. Glass tinkled. The wall vibrated with the thump of a heavy object ramming it with great force.
A breeze ruffled her hair. Chills raced down her back. She shivered. Salt stung her nose, as did the sweet tang of honeysuckle. Her fingers tensed, grabbing handfuls of the cotton bedspread as her vision blurred.
She rubbed her eyes.
Bit by bit, her familiar bedroom in the Vagabond’s village shifted into focus. White walls. Wooden bed posts. Silk blue canopy over her bed. White comforter. Cotton sheets. Two mahogany bedside tables. A stack of paper on a desk in the corner. The pages shifted in the breeze, and a couple drifted to the floor.
Sunlight streamed through the windows on her left, catching on the jagged edges of a broken window. Wind rattled the drapes, shuffling them aside as it whipped through the room. Shards of glass littered the floor, glinting.
A red brick lay on the carpet in the middle of the pool of broken glass, a white piece of parchment tied around it with a string.
Kara jumped out of bed and tiptoed across the remnants of her broken window, though it didn’t matter if she cut herself. She knew plenty of charms to heal a cut well enough to leave no scars.
She picked up the brick and yanked the note from the baked clay. A few words covered the other side of the small square of paper, written in tight handwriting.
We ’re done with the basics. Your real training starts today. Meet me in the clearing in the forest behind the kitchens. You have much to learn.
—Stone
Kara cursed under her breath. Her mentor threw a brick through her window to wake her up. That dramatic son of a—
“Couldn’t he just knock?” she muttered.
Her pulse settled. Adrenaline dissolved in her veins. She took a deep breath to clear her head, and the cold air swirled in her chest. Her worry hadn’t been anything more than the panic of being woken from a dream.
She sighed. And until the interruption, it had been a wonderful dream.
Something squeaked by her bed. Her tiny pet Flick stretched from his place on the pillow beside hers, his bushy tail straight up in the air. His ears—still too big for his head, even though he was mostly grown—twitched as he shook himself awake. No bigger than a squirrel, the furry red creature hopped along the folds in the blanket, battling the valleys of fabric on his way to her.
“Morning, munchkin,” she said.
He burped in answer. Charming thing.
Kara focused her attention on the broken window. She hadn’t fixed a window before, but she could manipulate the air and start a fire with the magic coursing through her. Since the glass just needed to be fused back into place, fixing a window couldn’t be too terribly difficult.
She reached her fingers toward the shards. With a deep breath, she borrowed the breeze dancing through her room. Tension pulled on her hands, dragging her knuckles downward. She resisted, pulling back to lift the fragments of glass. The pieces hovered. Her palms warmed.
The shards slid through the air, and Kara directed traffic as best she could. When bits of the glass pushed into their neighbors, she focused the full weight of her gaze on the seam, fusing the pieces on contact.
In a matter of seconds, her window was once more whole. A little worse for wear, perhaps—she hadn’t quite gotten rid of some of the cracks in the pane—but solid nonetheless. She smirked with satisfaction.
A dull pain throbbed in her wrist. She scratched at it, her nails catching on leather. She sighed and resisted the impulse to rip off the wrist guard on her right arm. The ornate leather band on her right wrist covered spikes that dug into her skin, helping keep her uncontrollable magic at bay. Her arm ached when she wore the thing, but even her grandfather, Agneon, had worn the band at one point to restrain his magic.
After Stone awoke her isen nature, he told her to never take off the wrist band for fear she would lose her last ounce of self-restraint. So far, she had obeyed.
She headed for her closet to change. However good Stone’s intentions may have been, he’d forced her into the life of an isen. She hadn’t wanted any of this. Since he turned her, Stone was her master and could control her. He could make her hit herself in the face if he wanted, but she listened to him out of respect. He’d lived for centuries.
Still, despite his vast knowledge and experience, she would give him a piece of her mind when she found him.
About the Author:
S.M. Boyce is a fantasy and paranormal fiction novelist who also dabbles in contemporary fiction and comedy. Her B.A. in Creative Writing also qualifies her to serve you french fries. She updates her blog (smboyce.com) a few times each week so that you have something to wake you up in the morning.
Website: http://www.smboyce.com
Blog: http://www.smboyce.com/boyce-blog/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/thesmboyce
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/thesmboyce
Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/112175470463905024259/posts
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/smboyce
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My Takeaway from the Indie Author Symposium
So this past weekend a friend from my local RWA chapter and I ventured to Rhode Island for the Indie Author Symposium. I woke up not knowing where I was and without the little feet of toddlers pushing me to the edge of the bed. New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author Marie Force and Penny Watson—blogger and author of seasonal Christmas stories—hosted a series of workshops regarding indie publishing.
This past year a new tract for self-publishing was presented at the national RWA conference to address this growing demand. The turnout and the amount of agent and editor pitch appointments that went unfilled clearly exposed the shift in publishing trends. Despite the diminishing self-publishing stigma there is a barrier of misinformation for authors new to the indie revolution.
The misinformation hurdle makes indie publishing seem like a mystical process that only those with an entrepreneurial or business background can handle without the divine intervention of agents and editors. However, agents and editors that embrace the changes in the industry remain relevant and are often sought after by those who take a hybrid approach to publishing. Make no mistake that I would rather have an agent in my corner to act as a business partner to tackle foreign translation and other avenues that I don’t have an inclination to explore.
I’d rather use my time to write more books.
But Marie and Penny recognized that there was a need for updated and relevant information about indie publishing. The take-home message to those who want to take the self-publishing plunge—the book is king.
Sitting in the audience I found myself smiling and nodding.
As a very young author and newbie, I quickly discovered how much I have to learn. I’d always considered myself a fairly decent writer. I could string words together. Anyone can string words together and even form coherent sentences. That doesn’t mean they can write a book. At least not without investing in learning craft and sitting in front of their keyboard clacking away until they get right. I’d been doing it with short stories since I was a kid. I practically lived at my local library as an act of escapism and self-preservation from headgear, braces, glasses, and the host of hardware that gave middle school classmates a reason to taunt me.
When I’m not writing you can find me reading other books in the genre I write, books about craft, and more blogs than are probably healthy for one person to read. I still read genre fiction for pleasure. But I also read to research what others have done because the original idea is rare and when you see how other writers do it, at first you learn by imitating, by emulating—like using training wheels before learning how to ride a bike.
A few months ago a friend of mine on Facebook contacted me to ask how to publish some short erotica stories on Amazon after learning that I write erotic romance and erotica. My response probably shortened the learning curve as I guided him to some of the resources and writing communities that I use.
The story is everything.
I want to tell these stories today. I know that I still have a lot to learn. Readers and fans only give you one chance. And I know that my debut novel—Eternal Ever After—coming out in December will not be as good as my second, third, or even fourth book. Inevitably, books that I write tomorrow will be better than the ones I write today. It will reveal that I’m learning and growing as a writer. This is a good thing. If I wake-up and I’m not absorbed in learning from other authors, excited about their books, and excited about writing—I might as well quit what I’m doing.
Last month I read this article by James Clear on Rebelle Society about Richard Branson. The takeaway from it was to do it now, do it before you’re ready, use what you have, and build on it. Penny Watson reminded us that there are a lot of three star authors and they’re doing all right.
That’s exactly what I plan to do. And use best practices to do it right. Do it to the best of my ability and hire out for an editor and cover artist. Shoot for the four and five star reviews. I’ve always been a very stubborn person, almost to a fault. No one likes rejection. I plan on writing for as long as my mind is able to form cogent thoughts and my fingers are able to type. If you’re serious about writing—take yourself seriously. No bullshit. If you churn out drivel, then you’re setting yourself up for upset readers and returns. There’s no one you can blame for failure in this business. Believe me, it’s very much a business and it’s a lot of work. But it’s your business and hopefully you’re in it because it’s a passion.
Next year Marie Force and Penny Watson will be hosting another Indie Symposium. In an industry that’s changing at the speed of light, they plan on presenting new workshops and new information. I look forward to seeing what their conference workshops will be next year and hope that I can attend. It was a pleasure to meet them both and I’m sure I speak for everyone who attended when I say thank you for putting this together. I walked away more motivated, more inspired, and more informed then you can imagine.
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November 3, 2013
Penton Vampire Legacy (Paranormal Romance)
Omega
Penton Vampire Legacy, Book 3
Susannah Sandlin
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Montlake Romance
Date of Publication: February 5, 2013
ISBN: 978-1612183596
ASIN: B0073XV3L2
Number of pages: 328
Word Count: approx. 88,000
Amazon Barnes & Noble Book Depository
Book Description:
The bloody war between the Vampire Tribunal and the defiant scathe of Penton, Alabama, rages on, forcing its residents and their bonded humans to retreat into the underground fortress of last resort: Omega. There, Will Ludlam is charged with the care of Penton’s humans, though he longs to fight alongside his vampire brethren. He knows the risks: as the renegade son of the Tribunal’s vicious leader, Will’s capture could doom the resistance.
Yet he is determined to prove his worth to his adopted scathe, to his vengeful father and to former US Army officer Randa Thomas, his beautiful, reluctant partner. Randa has little faith that a former member of the vampire elite has what it takes to fight a war. But as their enemies descend upon Omega, Will’s polished charm and Randa’s guarded heart finally give way to the warrior within.
Fans of Susannah Sandlin’s Penton Legacy are sure to devour this long-awaited third installment of the steamy paranormal series.
ABSOLUTION
The Penton Legacy, Book 2
By Susannah Sandlin
Release date: October 9, 2012
Publisher: Montlake Romance
Book Description:
With the vampire world on the brink of civil war over the scarcity of untainted human blood, battle lines are being drawn between the once peaceful vampire and human enclave of Penton, Alabama, and the powerful Vampire Tribunal.
A Scottish gallowglass warrior turned vampire in the early 17th century, Mirren Kincaid once served the Tribunal as its most creative and ruthless executioner—a time when he was known as the Slayer. But when assigned a killing he found questionable, Mirren abandoned the Tribunal’s political machinations and disappeared—only to resurface two centuries later as the protector and second-in-command of Penton. Now the Tribunal wants him back on their side—or dead.
To break their rogue agent, they capture Glory Cummings, the descendant of a shaman, and send her to restore Mirren’s bloodthirsty nature. But instead of a monster, Glory sees a man burdened by the weight of his past. Could her magic touch—meant by the tribunal to bring out a violent killer—actually help Mirren break his bonds and discover the love he doesn’t believe he deserves?
It’s a town under siege, a powerful warrior in a battle with his past, and one woman who can make the earth move—literally—as the Penton Legacy continues.
Amazon Barnes & Noble Book Depository
REDEMPTION
Book One Penton Legacy series
By Susannah Sandlin
Following a worldwide pandemic whose vaccine left human blood deadly to vampires, the vampire community is on the verge of starvation and panic. Some have fanned into rural areas, where the vaccine was less prevalent, and are taking unsuspecting humans as blood slaves. Others are simply starving, which for a vampire is worse than death—a raging hunger in a creature too weak to feed.
Immune to these struggles—at first—is Penton, a tiny community in rural Chambers County, Alabama, an abandoned cotton mill town that has been repopulated by charismatic vampire Aidan Murphy, his scathe of 50 vampires, and their willingly bonded humans. Aidan has recruited his people carefully, believing in a peaceful community where the humans are respected and the vampires retain a bit of their humanity.
But an unresolved family feud and the paranoia of the Vampire Tribunal descend on Penton in the form of Aidan’s brother, Owen Murphy. Owen has been issued a death warrant that can only be commuted if he destroys Penton—and Aidan, against whom he’s held a grudge since both were turned vampire in 17th-century Ireland. Owen begins a systematic attack on the town, first killing its doctor, then attacking one of Aidan’s own human familiars
To protect his people, Aidan is forced to go against his principles and kidnap an unvaccinated human doctor—and finds himself falling in love for the first time since the death of his wife in Ireland centuries ago.
Dr. Krystal Harris, forced into a world she never knew existed, must face up to her own abusive past to learn if the feelings she’s developing for her kidnapper are real—or just a warped, supernatural kind of Stockholm Syndrome in which she’s allowing herself to become a victim yet again.
Susannah Sandlin’s REDEMPTION is the first in the Penton Legacy series. Book two, ABSOLUTION, will be out September 18, and book three, OMEGA, on December 18.
Amazon Barnes and Noble Book Depository
About the Author:
Susannah Sandlin is the author of paranormal romance set in the Deep South, where there are always things that go bump in the night. A journalist by day, Susannah grew up in Alabama reading the gothic novels of Susan Howatch and the horror fantasy of Stephen King. (Um…it is fantasy, right?) The combination of Howatch and King probably explains a lot. Currently a resident of Auburn, Alabama, Susannah has also lived in Illinois, Texas, California, and Louisiana.
Website: http://www.susannahsandlin.com
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/susannahsandlin
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/susannahsandlin
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5828129.Susannah_Sandlin
Indie Bound: http://www.indiebound.org/book/9781612183541
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October 31, 2013
Noreen’s Choice (Shifter Menage)
Noreen’s Choice
Wolf Clan Shifters
Book 2
Ann Gimpel
Publisher: Liquid Silver Books
ISBN: 978-1-62210-058-3
Release Date: 11/4/13
Genre: Paranormal romance / Shifter Menage
47,000 words
Snared by the mate bond, Noreen risks everything for the men she loves.
Book Description:
It’s 1936 in Calgary. After a terrifying experience, Noreen is frantic to escape the Garden of Eden cult, so she catches the night train north out of town. An ominous stranger and a farmer who’s furious she slept in his barn remind her just how alone she is in the world.
Wolf shifters, Les and Karl, eke out a primitive existence on the flanks of the Canadian Rockies. Between Hunters who want to kill them and a wildfire raging out of control, they’re relieved when their clan leader, Jed, shows up.
Jed has a surprise in his car, though. While passing through the nearest town, he spied Noreen by the side of the road picking straw out of her hair and offered her a ride. Before Jed’s car even stops rolling, Les and Karl know she’s their mate. So skittish she’s barely willing to exit the car, Noreen busies herself helping Jed and his pack mates unload supplies.
Can Les and Karl convince her to stay? If she does, will the risks she faced as a cult member pale in comparison to being mated to shifters?
Chapter 1
Autumn, 1936
The swish of tires on wet pavement drove Noreen deeper into the shadows of a band of oak trees. She pulled her black wool cloak tighter against her body and set her teeth to keep them from chattering. Maybe running away from the Garden of Eden cult hadn’t been such a hot idea, but staying didn’t work either. Not after what she’d witnessed last night. When she’d joined the group two years ago, they’d been warm and welcoming. The rituals were a bit risqué, but harmless all in all. She squeezed her eyes shut to block out the image of a cheering mob that had segued from chanting while scantily clad to blood sacrifice. Exposing her body was one thing, a thirst for human blood quite another…
She pried her eyes open. No one would save her except herself and there wasn’t much she could do by playing ostrich. Escape was essential, the only thing that mattered. Never mind she’d be walking away from what little she owned, since her things were in one of the cult’s many apartments.
Noreen took another step backward. One boot sank into sticky mud; cold water ran into it. Reality hit home and terrified her. She couldn’t go back to work. Nearly everyone she knew at the insurance exchange was related to the cult in some way. Or to another similar group. Occult fervor had risen during the twenties in the wake of World War I. By the middle of the nineteen thirties, it had a well-established toehold. Fascination with the supernatural ran high and had grown like an out-of-control weed. Most spiritual cults were rooted in the States, but it hadn’t taken long before Canadians picked up the banner, enthralled by the unseen world.
Despite Noreen’s best efforts, shudders racked her body, and her teeth banged against one another uncontrollably. October in Calgary meant the air was dry and crisp. She’d seen frost on the roofs this morning. Tonight would likely see another freeze. It didn’t take much of an imagination to realize winter would set in soon.
Somehow, she’d sat at her desk all day. When co-workers commented she seemed subdued, she’d just said she wasn’t feeling well. It was the only way she’d gotten out of mandatory attendance at tonight’s cult meeting. Midday, she’d slipped out of the office and stopped by the bank. Closing her account would have engendered suspicion, so she’d withdrawn two hundred dollars, half of what she had saved. Even that earned her a stern lecture from one of the bank vice presidents. Likely afraid she’d fallen for some scam, he drew her into a side office intent on discovering why she needed such a vast sum of money. Noreen rolled her eyes at the memory. She’d fabricated a story about a mythical aunt who had unexpected medical bills.
“Yes, and I’m wasting precious time standing here,” she muttered, the words barely discernable against her chattering teeth. If she was going to follow through with the plan she’d hatched during the day, she needed to be out of town and well-hidden before someone looked for her. If she got really lucky, that wouldn’t be until after she didn’t show up for work tomorrow.
Or they might send someone to my place tonight to see if I need anything.
That last thought galvanized her into action. Noreen broke into a shambling trot and ducked into a coffee shop. She needed something hot to drink, and then she’d head for the train station and catch the evening express north toward Edmonton.
“Looking pretty wet there, hon.” A smiling waitress hustled over to her. “We’re closing soon, but I can get you some soup.”
“Just coffee,” Noreen managed. “And I promise I’ll drink it fast.”
The waitress, a buxom blonde with gray roots, cocked her head to one side. “You okay, sweetie?” Her brown eyes flickered kindly.
“Fine.” She dug a nickel out of a pocket. “Here’s for the coffee. I like it black.”
The waitress frowned and then shrugged. “It’s six cents now, but seeing as how we’re just going to toss what’s left in the pot, keep your money. Looks as if you need it worse than we do.”
Tears threatened at the woman’s unexpected thoughtfulness. Noreen blinked them back and murmured, “Thank you.” She sank into a red leather padded chair at the counter and waited while the waitress poured steaming liquid into a heavy, white ceramic mug. The heated crockery felt heavenly when she cradled it between her hands. The coffee burned her tongue, but the jolt from the caffeine was instantaneous and welcome.
Noreen glanced at her watch. How had it gotten to be nine p.m.? Her train left in an hour; it was a thirty minute walk to the station, and she needed time to purchase a ticket once she got there. She didn’t have extra money to waste on streetcars or taxis. Setting her cup down, she nodded at the waitress and hurried out of the café. The streets weren’t exactly deserted, so she pulled the sodden wool of her cloak’s hood over her bright hair. She didn’t want to have to explain why she hadn’t been at the meeting if anyone recognized her. After all, her excuse had been she was too sick to leave her home that night, and it would be blown to hell if she were seen wandering around in marginal weather.
Stop that! She lectured herself. Everyone else is at cult headquarters. No one’s out and about who might recognize me.
Brave words. Too bad I don’t believe them.
Her heart thudded so hard, she was afraid everyone she passed could hear it. Noreen counted off blocks as she walked through the heart of Calgary’s business district. Her wet sock squished in her boot. She wished she had time to take it off and wring it out. Another café, this one advertising it stayed open until ten, looked inviting, but she walked on by.
I’ll take care of my sock problem at the station. I’m cutting the timing close as it is.
Noreen felt ill. The coffee she’d welcomed going down ate at her stomach like acid. If she met up with anyone from the cult at the train station, she’d be finished. Cult members signed on for life. There weren’t any early out clauses that she knew of. A tear dripped down one cheek; she brushed it aside. No point in feeling sorry for herself. She’d made a bad decision and didn’t have any fallback position. There was no family to run home to—or call for help. They’d all died in the flu epidemic of 1918. She’d been seven at the time and had ended up in the Calgary orphanage.
“Even if I had relatives,” she mumbled, “they’d be the last place I’d go. Wouldn’t want to implicate them.” There hadn’t been anything truly wrong with the orphanage, but there hadn’t been much right there, either. Noreen understood perfectly why she’d been so attracted to the cult. For the first time in her twenty-five years, she felt as if she belonged somewhere. Like she had a family.
What a joke! Noreen castigated herself for being a fool, and a gullible one at that, and then gave it up for wasted effort.
The station lights shone through ground fog that had misted out of nowhere during her flight across town. A few more steps and she pushed the door open, walking into warmth so welcome it took her breath away. She didn’t realized how cold she’d gotten. Not just body-cold; her spirit was frozen to the core of her soul.
Noreen gazed around the station. A few people milled about, but not many. Resolute now that she was here, she marched to an open ticket counter and said, “Edmonton, please. Economy coach.”
The man didn’t bother to look up. “How many?” In his fifties or sixties, he was rail thin with sparse, gray hair.
“Just me.”
“Name?”
“Noreen Galen.”
His fingers shook as he wrote out her ticket. “That’ll be a dollar-fifty, miss.”
“Oh.” She bit her lower lip and fished in her handbag.
He glanced at her, rheumy blue eyes shrewd. “You got a problem with that?”
Noreen swallowed hard. It went against the grain, but she spoke up for herself. “Since you asked, yes I do. I don’t have much, and I thought the advertised fare was a dollar. I, um, called today and asked about it.”
He shrugged. “You got a buck?” She held it up so he could see. “Okay, missy. Here’s your ticket.” He stamped it and held it out to her, but Noreen was still nonplussed he’d tried to overcharge her, so she didn’t reach for it. “Ain’t you going to take your ticket?” He sounded annoyed.
“Uh, sure.” She pushed her money under the bars and took the ticket.
“Gate seven. She boards in twenty minutes.”
Noreen scuttled away, not wanting to deal with the clerk who’d tried to cheat her. If she wouldn’t have said anything, he would have pocketed the extra fifty cents. Outrage flooded her and left a bitter taste at the back of her mouth. Someone really should report him.
Yes, someone should, but not me. The last thing I need is to draw attention to myself. Following the signs, she settled in to wait near where the train would come and bent to unlace her boot. Her sock had soaked up most of the water. She wrung out what she could and put it back on before the wool could cool off and become clammy. Some strands of her white-blonde hair had escaped from beneath her hood; she tucked them back out of sight and drew in a shuddery breath. Fifteen more minutes and she’d be safe on the train. Well, maybe safe, though it seemed unlikely she’d run into any Garden of Edeners on the night train to Edmonton.
She’d studied maps during the day and decided to get off around Red Deer. Buying a ticket all the way to Edmonton was a hedge in case anyone tried to find out where she’d gone. From Red Deer, hopefully she could hitch a ride west into some of the smaller communities dotting the Rockies. Maybe, if she were really lucky, she could land a job before her money ran out. Insofar as she knew, cult activities were limited outside major cities.
Wonder how much trouble they’re going to go to to find me?
The loudspeaker announced her train; after a final glance around the station, Noreen strode toward the door and out onto the platform. The steam engine’s headlamp lit the night. With a whoosh and a roar, the train clattered to a halt. She waited until a flood of travelers disembarked, went up the steps, and found her way to a nearly deserted coach.
Her seat was soft and the train car warm. Before the train had even pulled out of the station, her eyes felt heavy. Noreen pinched her hands. Sleeping, at least until they got underway, wasn’t an option. She had to stay alert and keep an eye on the few passengers entering her car.
It wasn’t easy to stay awake. She’d barely slept the night before as her mind replayed the horror of a man she’d known and respected chopping off two of his fingers while lost in cult-driven zeal. If it had just been him, acting by himself, it might have been one thing, but hundreds of other cult members were screeching, cheering, and egging him on. They’d put his fingers in a brass bowl and used the blood to lure a spirit guide. Two men had gone into a deep trance after that. Noreen had excused herself, barely making it to the ladies’ room before her stomach rebelled. She hadn’t returned, but the cult was so high on bloodlust, she figured no one even noticed her absence.
Finally, the wheels squealed against the rails and the train chugged northward. Her car was still mostly empty. As she sank deeper into her seat and drew her hood low over her eyes, Noreen dared to let herself hope. She’d made it this far. Maybe, just maybe, she’d escape to start a new life, one where she’d make better choices.
* * * *
The phone jangled again. Loud and strident, it made Les’ sensitive lupine hearing ache. It took him a moment to realize he needed his human form to make the noise go away. He’d tried to ignore the damned thing, but whoever was calling wouldn’t give up. Every time he ventured near the house, it was ringing. With an aggravated snort, he commanded his body to shift. As soon as he had feet rather than paws, he strode through the door of his cabin deep in the woods, jaw tight with annoyance. His remote location a few miles outside Rocky Mountain House often lost phone service for long periods of time.
“Yes and too bad this isn’t one of them,” he muttered, snatched up the receiver, and barked, “Yes, I’m here.”
“It’s about damned time. I’ve been trying to get hold of you for days.”
Les’ eyes widened. “Jed?”
“Who the hell else?”
Les brayed laughter. “Good point. It’s not as if very many people have this number. What’s up, boss? I thought you were coming my way months ago. The boys and I wondered what happened.”
“Now that I have your attention, hang up.” Jed’s voice had a sharp edge that Les remembered all too well. “We’ll do this a more private way.”
“You got it.” Les dropped the black receiver back in place. He kicked the door shut to keep the cold breeze out. It didn’t bother him as a wolf, but he was naked and the air had a chill edge to it. He trotted into the bedroom and had begun to dress when Jed’s voice sounded in his mind.
“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you for a week.”
Les sank onto the bed and pulled a quilt over his still-bare legs as he considered where to start. Jed was clan leader for wolf shifters. He needed all the information Les could provide. “First off, we’re all still okay.”
“That’s a relief. When I couldn’t raise you, I was afraid Hunters had killed everyone. Made me half-crazy not to know anything. Anyway, we pulled into Calgary last night.”
“With your new mate?”
“Affirmative. Bron, Terin, and Alice are with me.” Jed blew out a breath. “You may have heard through the grapevine, we’d originally decided to come north as part of our wedding trip, but Hunters nabbed half a dozen of us in northern California. It took a major offensive to free our people. Even so, we lost a couple.”
Les nodded, and then realized Jed couldn’t see him. “Yes, I know. We’ve had problems of our own. First it was Hunters. They almost got your cousins Ron and Chris. I’m still waiting for the fallout on that one since we killed the whole posse that came after us. All five of them.”
“Was there any choice?” Jed’s voice was stern.
“No.” Anger tightened Les’ muscles. He’d like to kill every goddamned Hunter in the universe, but he wasn’t about to tell Jed that. And there hadn’t been any choice, not really. They’d been surrounded. The only thing that saved them was taking a firm offensive position.
Jed broke into Les’ thoughts. “What’d you do with the bodies?”
“Don’t worry, boss. No one will ever find them. We dragged them to the very bottom of a cave system where there’s a vent to an upper cave and burned them.”
“How long ago?”
Les thought about it. He’d spent much of the last month as a wolf which skewed his time sense. “Maybe a week.”
“You still haven’t told me why you weren’t answering your phone.”
“We’ve all been in our wolf forms. There’s a fire burning out of control between our pack and the crest of the Rockies. A couple of the cabins farther west incinerated—”
“Hmph,” Jed interrupted, obviously not concerned about an out-of-control wildfire. “Any of you find mates yet?”
“What do you think? It’s not as if the odds are in our favor.”
“Maybe Alice can change that. Women trust her. She’s actually scared up three mates since she joined Bron, Terin, and me.” A hesitation. “How close did you say that fire was?”
“My cabin’s not in any immediate danger. It’s fall and I’m expecting it to rain soon.” Les scratched at month-old beard growth on his chin. “It’s pretty primitive here, boss. Nothing like your digs in Hollywood.”
A different voice sounded in his head, rich, vibrant, and definitely female. “I’ve been listening in. Shameless of me not to have said something earlier. Don’t worry about me. My life was a whole lot simpler before I met up with Jed and my other two mates. Besides, I’m looking forward to meeting the clan members here in Alberta.”
Les’ mouth twitched into half a smile. “You must be Alice. We’ve heard a lot about you. Are you really six feet tall?”
Alice snorted; it made Les wish he’d kept his mouth shut. After all, Alice was mated to his clan leader. “How about if we leave the details open and you can see for yourself when we get there? Jed says it’s a four or five hour drive and we should arrive sometime tomorrow. Is there anything we need to bring from the big city?”
Les gazed around his one bedroom cabin as if he expected a grocery list to materialize. He cleared his throat before remembering he didn’t need his actual voice. “Um, we’ve been pretty much living off the land this past month, so anything you bring would be welcome.”
“I get the picture.” Jed broke in with a laugh. “We’ll fill up the trunk and the rest of the back seat.”
Les couldn’t help himself. “Who gets to sit next to Alice?”
Female chuckling made his heart lighter than it had been in a long time. “Oh, they fuss and snarl a bit, but they sort of take turns. It’s nice actually, to have three doting mates.”
“I’m sure it is.” Les brushed a wave of sadness aside. He’d love to have a woman to fuss over, alongside Karl, his pack mate. They’d hunted for years for a female to grace their lives without success. A few promising candidates had crossed their path when they’d lived in Edmonton, but Hunters had driven them out of the city fifty years before.
“We’ll be there by tomorrow afternoon.” Jed’s voice was gruff, and Les figured his clan leader could read his mind.
“I’ll alert the troops, boss. Everyone will be really glad to see all of you. And to meet your mate.”
Les waited, but a certain emptiness told him Jed had signed off. He shoved the quilt aside, finished dressing, and called Karl through their telepathic link. It didn’t take long before paws scrabbled against the door, and Les remembered he’d shut it. By the time he crossed the small space and pulled the door open, Karl had found his human form and stood shivering, arms wrapped around his tall, spare frame. Black hair hung to his waist in tangles. “Thanks. Damned cold out here.” The wolf shifter bounded into the room, giving the door a shove as he passed through it. “What’s up?”
“Jed’s here.” Les spread his arms wide and rolled his eyes. “Along with his lieutenants and their new mate. We’ve got to clean this place up.”
“Why? It’s always been good enough for us.”
Les slugged him in the arm. “You weren’t listening. Jed’s mate will be here.”
“Oh, I get it.” Karl chortled, dark eyes gleaming with glee. “Maybe if we didn’t do anything, she’d take pity on us and—”
“Right. Find some clothes and we’ll get to work. I don’t think Jed, Terin, or Bron will want their new mate waiting on the likes of us.”
Karl sprinted for his sleeping alcove toward the rear of the log cabin’s main room. Drawers banged open. “Fire’s getting closer,” he called over one shoulder. “Maybe it would be better for all of us to get together in Red Deer.”
Les considered it. “Nope. Too soon since we axed those Hunters. That’s where they were from—there and Edmonton. I don’t want any friendly sheriff asking questions if they discover we live out here. Are you sure the fire’s closer? Maybe the wind just shifted direction.”
“It’s definitely closer. The smoke’s thicker, and I can actually hear it burning from the rise a couple miles west of here.” Karl slid his legs into trousers and pulled a sweater over his head before shoving his feet into an ancient pair of sheepskin slippers. He turned to Les. “Where do you think we should start? Come to think of it, when do you want to alert the rest of the clan, or should I do that?”
“We can take care of that later tonight. How about if you work on the dishes? I’ll sweep and get the kettle going for laundry.”
Karl strode to the sink and pumped the handle for water. “Eww.” He wrinkled his nose. “How long have these plates been here?”
“Does it matter?” Les lugged a large, cast iron kettle in through the back door and hefted it onto a wood-burning stove. He opened the firebox door, levered a pocket knife out of his pants, and started shaving tinder. “Let’s warm some water. That should help.” As he worked, Les dialed in his lupine senses and scented fresh air coming through the back door. It was indeed tinged with smoke. What bad timing for a major fire. If it drove them into one of the nearby towns, they’d risk discovery because Hunters could scent them.
“Les?”
He looked up from his half-built fire. “Um-hum.”
“Maybe it’s time to move on.”
“No!” Les banged a fist down on his thigh. “I’m sick of running. If the fire gets this far, we’ll come back when it’s over and rebuild.”
“But we’ll never find a mate out here.”
“Just do the damned dishes. We’ve got enough problems without adding to them.”
About the Author
Ann Gimpel is a clinical psychologist, with a Jungian bent. Avocations include mountaineering, skiing, wilderness photography and, of course, writing. A lifelong aficionado of the unusual, she began writing speculative fiction a few years ago. Since then her short fiction has appeared in a number of webzines and anthologies. Full length works, Psyche’s Prophecy, Psyche’s Search, and Psyche’s Promise are small press publications available in e-format and paperback. To Love a Highland Dragon, Fortune’s Scion, Earth’s Requiem and Earth’s Blood are urban fantasy romances available in e-format. A number of paranormal romance shorter works are also available. Check out Ann’s website or blog for a full listing of her fiction.
http://www.amazon.com/author/anngimpel
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