Not everything is beautiful under the light of a silvery full moon. A new evil walks the night in the woods near Dante’s Hallow. Nicholas Harwood and his companions-a druid sorcerer, a witch, his best friend and a few ghosts, race against time to stop this new creature before the body count grows higher. Can they save the town without alerting the local people to the truth about the supernatural?
He was approaching a tight curve in the road where the forest grew thicker on both sides. Brutus stopped and stamped his feet, trying to turn around and head back to English Point. Nick had a hard time controlling the animal. “Easy boy, what is it what you sense?”
Nick stayed in the saddle. If he dismounted, Brutus might bolt. Something was frightening the horse, something the creature could sense but Nick couldn’t. Brutus acted like this when Nick tried to get him closer to the cemetery than the maple tree. Something was nearby, and standing here in the middle of the road with thick trees and brush on either side was a good way to get ambushed.
He adjusted his grip on the reins and tapped his flanks to signal the animal to run. Brutus obeyed. They raced along, coming quickly to the tight curve. They rounded it, and the horse reared, dumping Nicolas onto the gravel.
Brutus disappeared into the foliage, leaving Nick on the ground. When Nick finally caught his breath and sat up, there, several feet in front of him was a handcart filled with fish and ice and a man stretched out on the ground.
But that wasn’t what nearly stopped Nick’s heart, or what had terrified the horse.
It was the thing that was leaning over the man pulling his heart from his chest—a gigantic black wolf.
Augustina Van Hoven is a paranormal romance author who lifts the veil on the secrets hidden in the world around us. Whether it’s traveling through a crack in time, interacting with the dead, or meeting the supernatural creatures living among us, her characters find love in unexpected places. What would you do if you actually met a shifter? Or woke up a hundred and fifty years in the past? Or looked into a mirror and found the face staring back at you wasn’t your own? Come and read stories that show you what is possible if you will only believe.
Augustina was born in The Netherlands and currently resides in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and three cats. She is an avid reader of romance, science fiction and fantasy. When she’s not writing she likes to work in her garden or in the winter months, crochet and knit on her knitting machines.
Hey friends! Seelie Kay stopped by to tell us about her sizzling new release “Vive La Resistance”. A must read for PNR lovers who love a dash of suspense!
Paranormal Romance, Romantic Suspense, Contemporary Romance, Fantasy
Three flames, 21+
An Interview with Seelie Kay:
Q. Why do you write romance?
Since the onset of the pandemic, I have totally changed my attitude toward writing romance. While I was long enamored of the happily-ever-after because it brought me and readers joy, I have concluded that my true purpose in writing romance is to give me and my readers hope. Let’s face it, the pandemic has been traumatic—for everyone. It evolved into one of the most chaotic situations of our time, something we had never before experienced. I was grasping at anything that would give me hope and found myself turning daily to romance books and tales of finding or sustaining love. So now, I write to give people hope.
Q. Do you prefer a certain type of romantic hero?
That also changed during the pandemic. While I still adore smart, dashing gentlemen who aren’t afraid to live on the edge, I found myself focusing more on principled men, those willing to fight for what they believe in. And now, you will that find my heroes also have a strong sense of family. They value the support a family can provide. Of course, the definition of “family” varies and comprises more than the traditional assortment of parents, siblings, and relatives.
However, these “heroes” continue pair with strong, independent women who aren’t afraid to fight for what they want, even love.
Q. Why did you write “Vive la Resistance?”
At the foundation of this book is the belief that people cannot be afraid to speak out against wrongs, especially those inflicted on others, and they must be willing to fight against evil, even at the risk of death. Soldiers and peacekeepers do that every day. We live in turbulent times. It is so easy to say, “Not my problem,” and turn away. But sometimes, you don’t have that choice. You have to stand up and fight back. Donovan Trait is a vampire lawyer. In the human world, a very respected lawyer. Now he must use his skills to save the half-bloods—vampires whose blood is mixed with human or Were. What began as a Vampire Coalition vendetta against his turned wife, Judge Shirley Magnusen, who gave birth to half-blood twins in violation of her marital agreement, has extended to the elimination of all half-bloods. A campaign of genocide. However, this is not a battle that can occur with boots on the ground in the presence of humans and Weres. It must be fought in the shadows to prevent exposing the vampire world to humans. So it must be fought virtually, and soon it becomes clear that the resistance may be winning battles, but the Vampire Coalition will never concede the war. The final battle must occur in person. Sacrifices will be made, lives will be lost, and the vampire world will be shattered. But the real question is, what will emerge from the ashes? Vive la Resistance (Long Live the Resistance)!
Things are gonna get messy…
An illegal union, a banned birth, a Great Lie, and now, genocide. Vampire lawyer Donovan Trait and his wife, chemically-turned Judge Shirley Magnusen, are battling for their lives and the lives of their children. The Vampire Coalition wants them dead, but now the despots have also decided to expand their net, targeting any vampire whose blood is mixed with human or Were. Half-bloods are already treated like dirt by the Vampire Nation. They have been subjected to centuries of discrimination and cruelty at their hands. As the Coalition embarks on a campaign of terror, destruction, and slaughter, millions of half-bloods emerge from the shadows, ready and willing to reclaim their place in the Vampire Nation. The problem is, war cannot be unleashed out in the open in the human world. Battles must be fought in other ways. Even with an island of highly-skilled vampire nuns and a few Weres and humans at their side, it appears the Traits may be fighting an unwinnable war. Their only option may be to sacrifice their own lives in the hopes of setting all other half-bloods free.
Donovan shifted on the lounger and muttered incomprehensively, then he emitted a rumbling snore.
“Hey, y’all. So yeah, vampires are real and they’re not above doing the dirty to those who share their blood. Take a look at this.” The Tik-Tokker grinned. “You are not gonna believe it. It’s so shady.”
Video of the Coalition camps rolled across the screen. Occasionally, the camera zeroed in a dirty or bruised Millennial, or a guard pushing a group of people into a building, their ankles locked together with some sort of rope. They were seen eating off of metal plates and lined up to fill a metal cup with something from a barrel. It wasn’t water. The liquid was rust-colored and thick, like blood.
“And the dudes running the place have a Marie Antoinette fetish. You know—” The woman mimicked a knife across her throat. “Off with their heads?” She giggled.
A guillotine appeared on camera. About ten people were in line, each with a black hood over their heads and their arms bound behind them. One at a time, they were pushed onto a stage and forced to their knees, their necks positioned directly under the blade. With manic efficiency, a guard released the blade. Most heads flew into a barrel in front of the platform. The ones that rolled off onto the stage were kicked to their final destination. The headless bodies were tossed onto a pile on the ground.
“Oh, grosss,” the woman complained. She leaned toward the camera. “Kind of like a bad zombie movie, isn’t it?” She sat back in her chair and made a face. “Whatever. I mean, like, are we supposed to believe that’s really happening? Isn’t that against the law or something?” She cackled. “As if.” She leisurely stretched her body, her crop top exposing a belly button ring. “I’m so shook.”
The woman tossed her hair over her shoulder and smiled. “Now, I’m not sharing this for the views. It is kind of sus. But if this shit is real, someone needs to get off the pot and do something about it. Aren’t there any woke cops out there who can play the James Bond card? Before anymore—” She swiped her finger across her throat and giggled. Then the screen went black.
Donovan shot up in his chair and blinked. Once. Twice. He shook his head and attempted to gather himself. What the hell? Sure, he had needed the sleep, even if it was only a thirty-minute nap, but the dreams he could do without. It had been less than forty-eight hours since the worldwide kidnappings. Donovan knew preparations for rescue were underway. But he also knew Bengotten and Hannigan were capable of even greater cruelty. He could only imagine the terror and the torture the victims were being subjected to.
It was difficult to understand how the vampire world was capable of this. He had long prided himself on their natural superiority, their ability to rise up above the petty politics and unjustified violence in the human and Were worlds. Yet overnight, vampires had become the monsters, the tyrants capable of such evil. That astonished him. For the first time in his long existence, Donovan was ashamed of being a vampire. If it was possible, he might very well submit to being turned into a human or a Were. He buried his face in his hands. Yes, he could live as a human. Perhaps he could ask Dr. Alvarez to find a way to turn off his vampirism, maybe using the gene-editing Marilyn could not stop talking about.
Writing under a nom de plume, the former lawyer and journalist draws her stories from more than 30 years in the legal world. Seelie’s wicked pen has resulted in twenty-two works of fiction, including the new paranormal romance series Donovan Trait,as well the erotic romance Kinky Briefsseries and The Feisty Lawyers romantic suspense series. She also authored The Last Christmas, The Garage Dweller, A Touchdown to Remember, The President’s Wife, The President’s Daughter, Seizing Hope, The White House Wedding, and participated in the romance anthology Pieces of Us.
When not spinning romantic tales, Seelie ghostwrites nonfiction for lawyers and other professionals. Currently, she resides in a bucolic exurb outside Milwaukee, WI, where she enjoys opera, the Green Bay Packers, gourmet cooking, organic gardening, and an occasional bottle of red wine.
Seelie is an MS warrior and ruthlessly battles the disease on a daily basis. Her message to those diagnosed with MS: Never give up. You define MS, it does not define you!
Warrior Priest by Kate Hill Science Fiction Romance
What happens when a warrior priest from a strict religion meets a free-spirited priestess from a new age commune?
Jade and Selena are as different as two people can be, but to facilitate an alliance between their worlds, they engage in a cultural exchange. With their galaxy in danger from a planet that wants to conquer or destroy all others, they realize the importance of their assignment, but it is difficult for a warrior priest and a nonviolent priestess to understand each other.
Selena is both attracted and appalled by his old school masculinity, and Jade is tempted to break his vow of celibacy until marriage due to his powerful desire for her. Will this unlikely pair not only find common ground, but unconditional love?
At six feet three inches with a large build, Jade often considered his cell at the
temple cramped. During his travels, he’d lived in caves, cottages, tents, and mud huts. He
had even endured a Kimbrian prison camp. Still, he wasn’t fully prepared for Selena’s
“It used to be a caravan,” she said.
They removed their boots, left them on a rubber mat, and hung their coats on
hooks near the entrance.
“Ned and Rayne helped me renovate it so that I’d have a little more space.”
“Yes. Before joining the commune, he was a builder. Well, he still is. He’s been
in charge of building many of our shelters and clinics all over Neidress. He’s super
talented and smart.”
“I got that feeling.”
“He’s also great with his hands. He can build just about anything.”
“That’s a little surprising,” Jade admitted, picturing the plump, bookish priest.
“I know, right?” Selena chuckled. “It’s said that looks can be deceiving. Come on.
I’ll put some wood on the stove. It’s freezing.”
While Selena walked to a small, old-fashioned iron stove toward the center of the
house, Jade glanced around. The caravan was made for efficiency, but it had an almost
storybook charm. It fit Selena perfectly, but Jade felt too big for the house.
“It’ll heat up fast in here.” Selena stood and brushed wood chips off her clothes.
“That’s a guarantee.” Jade smiled and stepped closer to take her in his arms.
*The planet Falosia has an excess of females. The planet Verit has a surplus of males. The best of each have been put forward to start a new colony and find mates, in a last desperate attempt to save both worlds. A scorchingly hot sci fi, alien romance. *
Denara barely survived her disastrous first attempt at marriage; for years she threw herself into her research, giving herself time to heal. When the opportunity arises to take up a position on the colony, she decides to take a risk for the chance to live, and love, again. Lucius has spent his life under the heel of the ruthless Matriarchs of Verit. Tasked with leading the males of the new colony, he reluctantly accepts the assignment. The last thing he wants is to tie himself to a scheming female through mating, but nothing could have prepared him for meeting Denara. Sparks fly, but can they overcome their pasts to find love? With the political machinations of two planets vying for control over the colony, perhaps together, they can bridge the gap between their worlds.
What to expect: Glorious world building, spicy alien romance, friends to lovers, enthusiastic consent. Recommended 18+ due to sexual content.
“I am a First Warrior.” He stroked his animal fur, which she had successfully avoided looking at until now and pointed out a series of gleaming metal pins and buttons along the edge. “Each of these represents a successful campaign.”
Denara shuddered and turned back to the medicine cabinet, trying not to regard the dead animal. Lucius was moving before he was consciously aware of it. “Why do you do that?”
Suddenly he was very close; she could feel the heat radiating from him. He had moved so fast and silently that she had not heard him move. She spun around, backing up into the medication shelving, knocking several boxes to the ﬂoor. “Do what?” she stammered.
“Shudder and turn away? What displeases you so? I saw you do the same thing when you regarded me at the introduction social event.”
He was very, very close. She could sense his energy. It was distinctly feline – curiosity with a contained violence and ruthless intelligence. It was highly unusual, and nothing in all her years of experience had prepared her for the closeness of such a male. He seemed to suck up all the air in the room.
“Oh… it’s nothing.” He regarded her, his eyes deepening from their usual pale blue to a dark navy. She was transﬁxed at the sight. “Why do your eyes do that? Is it an evolutionary adaption? Or a deliberate genetic alteration?”
“Deliberate alteration. It allows us to see minute biochemical and heat changes, a useful enhancement for a warrior. It also allows me to see when you lie. I saw your displeasure at the ﬁrst meet yesterday as well.” He cocked his head at her, studying her reactions, attempting to determine the source of her distress. The dark stranger within him was demanding that he ﬁnd the source of the problem, kill it for her and lay it at her feet in tribute. “Something displeases you, Healer. Inform me of it, my lady, and I will remedy it immediately.”
“Could you, could you back up a bit please?” she gasped out, and he took two measured steps back, to place himself against the opposite wall, as far away as he could get in the small space.
“My apologies, I did not mean to frighten you. I observed you standing close to Odran yesterday and assumed it was acceptable in your culture. I would never touch you without your permission.” She detected a faint thread of hurt in his emotional resonance. “Or perhaps it is me you don’t wish to stand so close to.” He nodded, thoughtfully, examining her reactions in his mind. “Yes, that is it. It is I that distresses you. I shall remedy this by removing my presence.”
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Rose Mackie (she/her) is an Australian author who writes and loves sci-fi romance, paranormal romance and fantasy romance. Born in Scotland and living in Perth, Western Australia for the past 15 years, Rose loves nothing more than to hang out with her family and rescue cat, and create magical worlds of imagination.
All Rose Mackie books have an element of spice, kick-ass heroines, enthusiastic consent and happy endings. Rose has been writing for as long as she can remember, but has recently published her first book, Heart Fire. It still spins her out that people are reading the weird stories she makes up in her head!
Rose has fallen in love with writing, and loves seeing audiences connect with her work and characters, and hopes you’ll love them too!
*Nancy Fraser will be awarding a $20 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.*
The last place Andrew (Drew) Morgan wants to be is back on the family avocado farm in Plentiful. If he had his way, he’d still be active military and deployed someplace far, far away. Unfortunately, he rarely gets what he wants. And, being back in the orchard is just the latest in a long list of disappointments.
Single mother, Chloe Taylor has relocated from Fresno to the rural area of Plentiful, California to build her marketing business beginning with the local agriculture co-op. It’s her job to convince the local farms to invest in a major overhaul of the co-op’s publicity campaign. A mixture of modern operations, and older, family-owned farms, only adds to her frustration.
At the moment, her biggest challenge is bringing the owner of Plenty Good Farms in line with the others. The fact that the old curmudgeon of an owner, Samuel Morgan, has brought his nephew in to run things gives her hope. Surely, the younger Morgan will be more amenable to her progressive ideas.
When Chloe first presents her plan the Morgan men, it’s Drew who throws a monkey wrench into his uncle’s agreement to sign the necessary contract. What she doesn’t realize is that Drew’s reluctance has more to do with his uncle’s health issues, and the possibility that he won’t be able to talk the man who raised him into retiring.
When Drew is forced by the military medical team into choosing between a desk job or retirement, he shares his frustrations with Chloe and she helps him find a new purpose outside of being a full-time farmer. It also helps that their attraction is growing. Drew has definitely fallen for the independent woman, and her adorable daughter.
Will Chloe’s faith and determination help her lead Drew through his difficult decisions and bring them what they both need… a love that transcends their everyday challenges.
Drew Morgan pulled his muddy four-wheeler to a stop on the side of the road just short of the driveway leading to Plenty Good Farms. The last place he wanted to be, but where he was needed most. After nearly twelve years of active military service, he understood duty. Responsibility.
It wasn’t like the military was giving him an assignment any time soon. If ever.
He killed the engine, slid from behind the wheel, and walked around for a few minutes, working the kinks out of his bum leg and stretching his back. It wouldn’t do to arrive on his uncle’s porch with a limp.
The stubborn old coot would likely brand him injured and useless, and continue to insist he could manage on his own.
Drew knew better. Thanks to a letter from Doc Taylor, he’d been apprised of Sam’s failing health. As badly as Drew wanted to stay close to Fort Hood in hopes of haranguing them into letting him go back to work, he couldn’t very well desert the man who’d raised him from the age of ten.
C’mon, Andrew, grow a pair!
His uncle’s familiar admonishment echoed in Drew’s ears. Samuel Morgan was—if nothing else—an opinionated and cranky curmudgeon who liked nothing better than to goad people into doing what he wanted them to do.
Still, Drew loved the set-in-his-ways old man with all his heart. So much so, he’d accepted his mandatory three-month medical leave without so much as an argument. Then, he’d set out on the eighteen-hour drive from the base to the farming town of Plentiful, California in order to check on Sam for himself.
No sense putting off the inevitable any longer. Drew hopped back into the car and turned up the long, winding driveway. Parking at the rear of the century-old farmhouse, Drew took the steps two at a time, the reward for his exuberance a shooting pain that ran from behind his knee cap, up the back of his thigh, and ended in his hip. With the pain came the flash of memory he couldn’t quite escape, the loud explosion of an IED, flames shooting into the air, jagged shards of shrapnel flying everywhere.
He stopped at the door and sucked in a breath before turning the knob and stepping into the warm and welcoming kitchen.
“About time you got here, Andrew,” Sam groused from his seat at the table. He cradled an all-too-familiar cup of coffee in his sun-tanned grasp.
The first thing Drew noticed was the way Sam’s hands trembled where he held the ceramic mug. “The road was wet,” Drew countered. “I couldn’t go top speed all the way.”
Sam’s faded gray gaze narrowed in his direction. “No doubt you’ve lost all the driving skills I taught you as a teenager.”
“After maneuvering caravans of military vehicles for a dozen years, handling a lightweight four-wheel drive takes a bit of practice.”
“Yeah, well, you’re home now. You’ll catch on once you’re back on the tractor and pulling a wagon load of fresh-picked ‘cados.”
She’s also the granddaughter of a Methodist minister known for his fire-and-brimstone approach to his faith. Nancy has brought some of his spirit into her Christian romances. And, her own off-beat sense of humor to her clean & wholesome books.
When not writing (which is almost never), Nancy dotes on her five wonderful grandchildren and looks forward to traveling and reading when time permits. Nancy lives in Atlantic Canada where she enjoys the relaxed pace and colorful people.
It’s been awhile since I’ve written, re-posted or done anything on my blog site. Mid-2015 to now has been hectic. I’ve moved to a bigger, bustling city and accepted a new job (hopefully the last full-time teaching job I’ll ever have). Life changes are always stressful but coupled with raising a teenager and a seven year old it crosses into chaotic. During this process my writing has suffered, to the point that I haven’t written anything in months. Basically my writing “mojo” went on hiatus and recently just returned. This experience has reminded me (daily) that teaching is psychologically and emotionally draining (especially when at the middle school level) and parenting along with it kinda left me feeling like a zombie.
One day while sitting at my desk I looked at my calendar and realized it was November. Something inside of me woke up. When I moved I had plans to buckle down and write. With the goal of transitioning to a part-time teaching position (at the elementary level) and the goal of becoming a full-time editor/ writer. I hadn’t made any progress. Realizing it was November 1st and I wasn’t closer to achieving my goals scared me. Let’s face it life is short. I don’t want to wonder in five years, ten years or even twenty years why I didn’t follow through. Coupled with the fact 2015 is almost over and soon it will be 2016 — a fire has been smoldering inside of me.
I think the universe agreed because the next day I received first chapter edits back from a well-known freelance editor. I made a spur of the moment decision back in September to attend a local chapter of RWA and won the free critique.
Her words were encouraging and she seemed enthusiastic about my work.
So what am I doing now……….
I’ve enrolled in a six week online editing course. I’m actually participating and doing the assignments. I’m working on my manuscripts and am determined to finish both of them (OK at least one) by the end of this year. And I’m reading again. My current book list includes:
A Mad Zombie Party by Gena Showalter
About A Vampire by Lynsay Sands
So I’ll be posting updates weekly on this journey to get shit done.
We have another great author to feature in the Multicultural Romance Blog-A-Thon. Welcome Kim Golden, she also has a giveaway!
Maybe Forever Blurb
Note: Maybe Forever is book three in the Maybe… series. It starts with Maybe Baby, in which Laney and Mads meet in a very unconventional way and soon Laney must choose between the safe, comfortable life she’s had with another man in Sweden, or explore the unknown with Mads in Denmark. The story continues with Maybe Tonight, a novella told from Mads’s point of view. We meet Mads just before his first encounter with Laney and then what happens as their meeting changes his life forever.
Is the honeymoon over…?
Now married with two children, Laney and Mads are finding their life together isn’t as simple as it used to be. While Laney struggles with motherhood, Mads is so focused on chasing success that he loses sight of promises he’s made.
When frustration gets the better of her, Laney takes the kids and goes to the US, hoping to find solace with her aunt Cecily, a former school teacher who now teaches yoga and meditation in Florida.
Can Laney and Mads find their way back to one another…or is it too late?
Excerpt from Maybe Forever by Kim Golden
“Are you attracted to her?”
He glanced away. I saw the tension building inside of him. Instead of answering me, he began undressing. Was he ever going to answer me?
I didn’t want to cry anymore. I didn’t want to think about Benny or what he might have done with her. I kept telling myself that maybe I was overreacting—maybe there was nothing going on between them, but the telling silence continued to fester. Mads went into our en suite bathroom. As soon as I heard the shower sputter on, I ended up following him. He was already in the shower stall, his back to me as the water streamed down his body. I watched as he rinsed off a day’s worth of sweat…maybe even another woman’s scent…from his skin. But standing there watching him…I hated that I still wanted him. I still wanted him to want me and only me. And I knew that tonight might be the last time I could have him to myself. Maybe it was already too late. I was trembling, still unable to stop this unsettled feeling inside me. And when he finally turned off the shower and reached for his towel, I ran my hands along his hips and pulled him close. He turned and the tight expression on his face nearly sent me away. I steeled myself. He exhaled slowly and leaned into me. He captured my lips with his, kissing me tenderly at first, his lips grazing mine, the tip of his tongue gently urging me to let him in. I squeezed my eyes shut and let my arms tighten around him. For a little while the rising heat between us was enough to make me forget. I let him peel away my camisole, let him push down my shorts. I kicked them aside. My body was coming alive for him even while my doubts were whispering to me, “This won’t help…”
But I wanted him, wanted him to fuck me until I could stop feeling so empty inside. I wanted him to claim me, to make me his again. And as he lifted me, pressed me against the wall and I hooked my legs around him, I opened my eyes again and tried to remember every moment of this. He plunged into me and, once we were joined, a tiny ball of heat flamed inside me. “It’s been too long…” he gasped in my ear. I tried to stay focused; I just wanted to feel how he throbbed inside me, remember each sensation of his chest against mine, his hands gripping my ass, my hips… the damp tile wall pressing into my back…With each thrust, with each moan, I told myself, “Remember this…remember how good it feels…” And I cried out as he touched me, deep inside, rubbing the right spot, sending waves of liquid heat through my veins, and still I wanted more.
I grew up in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania and spent most of my childhood summers in Smithfield, Virginia. I’m not sure where my love of words comes from, but I’ve loved books since I was a child and I’ve loved writing stories for as long as I can remember.
My parents wanted me to do something practical–be an engineer, a doctor, a lawyer, an accountant. But I always dreamed of doing something completely different. I knew I wanted to be a writer, even if it took a bit of time for me to get to that point.
It led me to spend more time writing stories than studying physics and chemistry in high school. It’s what led me study literature and then work on an MFA in Creative Writing at Virginia Commonwealth University. And when I finished my master’s degree, love led me away from the US and brought me to Sweden.
So what do I write? I write about relationships, about love. I often write about interracial relationships. I like reading stories about people who are different, who see past the differences and fall in love. And those are the stories I also enjoy writing. I write stories for people who know that love comes in many colors.
Below are six paragraphs from my upcoming novella A Will for Love, releasing February 11.
Layna hurried in, her eyes connecting with Mikael as soon as his apartment door closed behind her.
“I came as soon as I got your message.” Concern etched her face. “What’s wrong? Your message said it was important.”
Layna’s heart rate had skyrocketed when she received the text from Mikael telling her it was an emergency and to come to his apartment as soon as possible.
Expecting to see chaos as soon as she entered, Layna stopped and took a deep breath noticing for the first time that everything looked calm, including the sender of the text.
Something was not right here.
“Mikael, what’s wrong?”
His blue eyes were chilly and his usually messy black hair was styled perfectly giving him a debonair look. She asked as she realized he was dressed in business attire. Mikael’s usual style was rocker meets prep. He left her and other girls drooling when he wore his trademark tight black tee and faded blue jeans. Although the black suit fit his lean, muscular six–foot-plus frame nicely it also made him look cold and detached. She had jokingly referred to it as his LockRidge armor. He only wore his ‘armor’ when he had to deal with his father.
Check out the other wonderful sneak peek snippets by clicking here:
Only fifty years left before vampires rule the world. When Dallas police detective Cami Davis joined the city’s vampire unit, she planned to use the job as a stepping-stone to a better position in the department.
But she didn’t know then what she knows now: there’s a silent war raging between humans and vampires, and the vampires are winning.
So with the help of a disaffected vampire and an ex-cop addict, Cami is going undercover, determined to solve a series of recent murders, discover a way to overthrow the local Sanguinary government, and, in the process, help win the war for the human race.
But can she maintain her own humanity in the process? Or will Cami find herself, along with the rest of the world, pulled under a darkness she cannot oppose?
“Ooh,” the taller woman said, “your friend doesn’t like it when you flirt.”
I glared at her. Vampires should not know more about me than I do.
“I’ll have to see that she gets over it,” a voice drawled from behind me. I whipped my head around in time to see a man standing up from a barstool behind me. I hadn’t even noticed he was there
God knows how I could have missed him.
He wore jeans and a dark blue button-down shirt. He had on dark brown cowboy boots, and as he turned away from the bar, he picked up a black felt cowboy hat from the seat next to him, placing it on his head. On anyone else, I might have assumed that the hats and boots were an affectation. On him, they looked perfect. He was utterly beautiful, with bright green eyes, and dark hair that curled down to barely brush the back of his collar.
I am undercover, I reminded myself sternly. Here to do a job.
When Garrett caught my gaze in his, flicking his glance toward the cowboy vamp, it was all I could do to keep from sighing aloud.
Would it have killed my partner to be a little more descriptive when he briefed me?
Of course that was the vampire cowboy I had to get close to tonight.
No making eyes at the informants, Cami.
But damn, he was hot.
“Nice scars,” he said, sliding his gaze along my bared shoulder.
“Thanks,” I said, almost breathless.
“But I thought you didn’t do Un-Claimed strays, Reese,” the short woman said, managing to both pout and smile at the same time.