Saturday, September 20, 2014

Fairy Tale Magic Blog Hop Starts Now!

Love...All things Fairy Tale? We're celebrating them in all their forms...originals, adaptations, twists and retellings. Sweet or steamy or a little bit twisted! Hop through all the blogs for giveaways at each stop! And don't forget to enter for the $100 Amazon gift card grand prize drawing too!



If you are a regular here at Share My Destiny, you are probably well aware that we like our fiction with a little edge and Fairy Tales are no different. Twisted fairy tales are some of our favorites and have often been spotlighted here.

Cameron Jace is a fabulous weaver of twisted tales and we are featuring the Grimm Diaries prequels in the Share My Destiny Blog Giveaway for the Fairy Tale Magic Blog Hop, Sept 15 - 22nd!

Good Luck and don't forget to follow the Hop for more great Fairy Tales and Giveaways!






The Grimm Diaries Prequels volume 1- 6: Snow White Blood Red, Ashes to Ashes & Cinder to Cinder, Beauty Never Dies, Ladle Rat Rotten Hut, Mary Mary Quite ... (The Grimm Diaries Prequels Collection)



Collection Book 1 is FREE on Amazon 

http://www.amazon.com/Grimm-Diaries-Prequels-1--Collection-ebook/dp/B00AA4JIWC


Enter to Win your choice of Collection 2, 3 or 4!




The Grimm Diaries Prequels volume 7- 10: Once Beauty Twice Beast, Moon & Madly, Rumpelstein, Jawigi (The Grimm Diaries Prequels Collection Book 2)



The Grimm Diaries Prequels volume 11- 14: Children of Hamlin, Jar of Hearts, Tooth & Nail & Fairy Tale, Ember in the Wind, Welcome to Sorrow, and Happy ... Grimm Diaries Prequels Collection Book 3)




The Grimm Diaries Prequels volume 15 - 18 : Snow White Black Swan, The Pumpkin Piper, Prince of Puppets, The Sleeping Swan (The Grimm Diaries Prequels Collection Book 4)







a Rafflecopter giveaway




Enter to win the Grand Prize, a $100 Amazon Gift Card and Follow the Hop for more great prizes!


Danger and Desire Blitz & Giveaway!

Danger and Desire Boxed Set
Publication date: September 15th 2014
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense



Synopsis:

Danger and Desire: Ten Steamy Romantic Suspense Novels

Hold on tight for ten tales of intrigue and passion from New York Times Bestselling and award-winning authors. Men in uniform, sexy spies and pulse-pounding action fill over 650,000 words of this limited edition boxed set.



New York Times Bestseller Katie Reus – Sensual Surrender
RITA Award Winning Author Carolyn Crane – Against the Dark
USA Today Bestseller Pamela Clare – Skin Deep
New York Times Bestseller Dianna Love
Dee J. Adams – Against the Wall
USA Today Bestseller Norah Wilson
USA Today Bestseller VK Sykes – Lethal Confessions
Amber Lin
USA Today Bestseller Misty Evans
New York Times Bestseller Kaylea Cross


The individual novels cost over $35 in total and have more than 2,000 5-star reviews on Goodreads. This set is only available for one month, so grab your copy now!

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22934431-danger-and-desire?ac=1


Purchase:
--Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00MSDGZZG






Friday, September 19, 2014

Blood Diva Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway!

Blood Diva
VM Gautier

Genre: Urban Fantasy

ISBN: 978-1496027511
ASIN B00MKM072W
Nook 2940150733404
Kobo: 9781501416071
I-Books: 908464724

Number of pages: 435
Word Count: 121,000

Book Description:

The 19th century's most infamous party-girl is undead and on the loose in the Big Apple.

When 23 year-old Parisian courtesan, Marie Duplessis succumbed to consumption in 1847, Charles Dickens showed up for the funeral and reported the city mourned as though Joan of Arc had fallen. Marie was not only a celebrity in in her own right, but her list of lovers included Franz Liszt – the first international music superstar, and Alexandre Dumas fils, son of the creator of The Three Musketeers. Dumas fils wrote the novel The Lady of the Camellias based on their time together. The book became a play, and the play became the opera La Traviata. Later came the film versions, and the legend never died.

But what if when offered the chance for eternal life and youth, Marie grabbed it, even when the price was the regular death of mortals at her lovely hand?

Today, Marie wonders if perhaps nearly two centuries of murder, mayhem, and debauchery is enough, especially when she falls hard for a rising star she believes may be the reincarnation of the only man she ever truly loved. But is it too late for her to change? Can a soul be redeemed like a diamond necklace in hock? And even if it can, have men evolved since the 1800′s? Or does a girl’s past still mark her?

Blood Diva is a sometimes humorous, often dark and erotic look at sex, celebrity, love, death, destiny, and the arts of both self-invention and seduction. It’s a story that asks a simple question – Can a one hundred ninety year-old demimondaine find happiness in 21st century Brooklyn without regular infusions of fresh blood?



Excerpt

The hostess told them the other party had already been seated and walked them toward the back section. Heads turned as they passed. Alphonsine recognized the man sitting alone at the corner booth although she’d never seen him in person. It was David Alexander, her lover’s father. He kissed her hand as she arrived at the table, “Enchanté, mademoiselle,” he said.
She looked at both men, and couldn’t help noting how strange it was that Dashiell and David bore the same resemblance to each other as her Adet had to his father, Alexandre Dumas, père. In both cases, the father was a shorter, broader, courser, less handsome older version of the son. In this case, add to a poorer diet, and probable alcoholism.
They had run into each other on the plane.
“What brings you to New York?” Alphonsine asked. She noticed the intensity of the old man’s gaze. She caught something from him – the smell of fear. Not what she would have expected. It excited her.
“He came to see a cardiologist,” Dashiell answered for him.
Alphonsine looked alarmed. “You have a problem with your heart?”
“Not really. Just the usual complaints of all American males my age. The problem is they have me on a medicine that prevents my being able to take a medicine also popular with American males my age.”
She laughed. He took a sip of the scotch in front of him. The waitress came by and they did the best they could with the limited vegan wine menu – vintners she hadn’t heard of who used no bone or other animal products in their filtration process. As it didn’t affect her kind’s prohibition against dead blood, she didn’t usually worry about how her wine was made.
They ordered appetizers. David made remarks about this being his first vegan dining experience, something he might need to get used to, as it was working out so well for Clinton and others. She noticed him staring at her mouth as she popped in a piece of fried artichoke. Then he caught her watching him and looked away.
“How long have you been a vegan, Camille?” He asked.
“Awhile,” she said. “Unlike Dashiell, for me it wasn’t so much a moral issue. It’s a good way to stay slim.”
“That doesn’t look like it would be a problem for you,” he said, and then after a moment continued, “So it doesn’t bother you, killing for food?”
“I probably differ here from your son,” she said, looking over at Dashiell. “I don’t think it’s necessarily wrong, but the conditions on factory farms are cruel. There’s no reason for that.”
“And you’d have no trouble with hunting then, if you ate your prey?”
“I suppose not,” she said, trying to sound thoughtful. “I’ve never been. Have you?”
“A few times,” he answered, “a few.”
She hoped the subject would change, though she didn’t want to initiate it. The old man continued, “In fact, I was hunting once with your mayor.”
“Piccolini?” Dashiell asked.
“The same. But that was back before he got really rich when he was a mere-multi-millionaire.
“Camille’s met him,” Dashiell said.
“Oh yes,” David said, “I seem to recall something on the Internet.”
“Just at some events for the gallery,” Alphonsine said as lightly as she could. “Are you close friends?” She asked as their entrees arrived.
“I haven’t seen him in a few years. Meeting him for lunch tomorrow. Shall I tell him you say hello?”
“If you’d like. I doubt he’d even remember me.”
“I’d think you’d be very difficult to forget,” David said.
They talked throughout the meal, never touching on anything personal. If not for the resemblance, she noted to herself, no one would have known the men were related. By the time they were waiting for dessert, the subject had turned to the west versus east coasts.
“Liz Taylor used to say that New York had the shopping, but Los Angeles had the weather.
“You knew her?” Alphonsine asked, sure he would claim he had. He’d been dropping famous names casually into the conversation all evening. Still, there was something about the old hack she found charming.
“I’m sure less intimately than you know the mayor,” he teased.
“I think Camille looks like a young Elizabeth Taylor,” Dashiell blurted.
“Liz was a little more …” David moved his hands to indicate large breasts, “And she had those light eyes. Camille’s an Audrey Hepburn type, a bit Holly Golightly.”
She wondered exactly how he’d meant that, but Dashiell, who’d probably never seen the movie, didn’t catch it.
“Oh, Dashiell thinks I look like everybody,” she said. “Who did you say the other day? Louise Brooks? And then we were watching some old movie with Jennifer Jones.”
“You sound a bit like Jennifer Jones, that wispiness, but I’ll go with,” David paused a moment, “Maria Callas. The dark hair and eyes, that slightly exotic look. Of course, your nose isn’t so ethnic.”
There was something in his tone that sounded rehearsed.
“It’s funny tha … ” Dashiell began.
“Maybe we should take this conversation elsewhere? An after dinner drink? Or we could show you around Brooklyn,” Alphonsine interrupted, hoping to derail the topic.
“Great idea,” David said. “We can go in five minutes.” He signaled the waiter for more coffee. “What were you saying, Dashiell?”
“It’s funny you mentioned Callas,” he said, turning toward her, “This one actually got me to go to an opera.”
“Really, are you a big fan, Camille?” David asked, staring at her intently.
She’d heard him pause briefly before he said her name. Whatever was happening was not her imagination.
“My boss always gets tickets for clients,” she said.
“How European.” He turned to his son, “What did you see?”
La Traviata,” Dashiell said.
She was desperate to stop the conversation, but every means she thought of seemed so obvious, and a strange sort of mental paralysis had set in.
La Tra –vi –ata,” David repeated, nodding, looking down. She noticed his lips curl just slightly into a smile, but by the time he looked up it was gone.
“You want to know who she really looks like?” Dashiell asked.
“Dashiell, David, I wish you guys would talk about something else besides women I resemble. It may be less complimentary than you think.”
“I’m sorry if we’re making you uncomfortable. Of course, we should change the subject, but I think I know where my son was going with this. As soon as he told me your name, and showed me a photo, I made the connection, maybe because you’re French. Has anyone commented on your resemblance to Marie Duplessis?”
She had killed men for less.
“But you actually remind me of a woman I only saw once,” he continued.
“That sounds intriguing,” Dashiell said.
“I mentioned Callas before. ” David took a sip of coffee and leaned back in his chair. “I met her. Maybe that’s an exaggeration. It was summer, 1966. I was traveling, part of my writer’s education. Young, unattached. A proto-backpacker, drifting through Europe on a few dollars I’d earned, a meager advance on my first book. On Mikados, I’d met a young German, equally adrift between university and further studies. Bright guy. Funny as fuck, for a German. Excuse my Fren uh language. He was torn between medical school and pure sciences. Three generations of doctors, so there was some family pressure, and there was a girl waiting for him he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to marry.”
“You remember a lot about him,” Dashiell said.
“It’s stayed on my mind.” He breathed in deeply. “We somehow wrangled our way into a party on a yacht. I’m a little fuzzy how, but it involved some girls we’d met on a beach. She was there, Maria Callas.”
Alphonsine had an idea how the story might end. She was trying as hard as she could to get into his brain, project a thought, give him a headache, or something, anything to distract him, but she felt blocked.
“She was surrounded by her own clique most of the time. There was this one young woman. I thought at first she might be related to La Divina, as they called her. They had similar features. She looked very much like you, Camille. Very much.”
“They say everyone has a double somewhere in the world,” Dashiell said.
“I got close enough to hear part of their conversation. They were speaking French, and mine wasn’t great. She even sounded like you,” he said looking at her, and then quickly turning his eyes to his son, pausing like he was trying to remember something. “Callas was saying how she wished they’d met when she was younger. Her new friend seemed to her a perfect model for Violetta Valéry. ‘Violetta, c’est toi.’ I remember her saying that. Something about the way she moved, and smiled, an inner light she had, and how she so casually broke hearts.”
“And that’s one way we differ,” Alphonsine said. She looked over at Dashiell. “My heartbreaking days are over.”
“Tristan, that was my friend’s name. Tristan Schiller, he somehow caught the young lady’s eye. He was a handsome guy. Not as good looking as this one I’m sitting across, but a similar type.”
“I’m sure you were quite the lady’s man as well, David.”
“Maybe,” he said, “I recall leaving with a red-head.”
“And your friend with the brunette?” Dashiell asked. He turned to Alphonsine and said playfully, “Good thing I don’t get jealous.”
“I saw them having what looked like an intense conversation. I can’t be sure they left together. I just have a hunch.”
“A hunch?” Alphonsine asked. “I guess he wasn’t the type to kiss and tell.”
“He disappeared.”
“Disappeared?” Dashiell asked.
“We were staying in a hostel, dorm style. I didn’t make the curfew. But in the morning I went back to get my things. He wasn’t there. We had tickets for a ten a.m. ferry to Cyprus. I thought about taking his stuff in case he was running late.”
“He didn’t make the boat?” Dashiell asked.
“No, he didn’t.”
“Maybe he got very lucky,” Alphonsine said looking at Dashiell. “Maybe they ran off together and had lots of babies.”
“I don’t think so,” said David, “although I was pretty sure it was something like that at the time. I thought we might catch each other later, at the next port of call. We’d discussed some possible itineraries. Nothing was settled.”
“But you didn’t see him again?” Dashiell asked seriously, following something in his father’s tone.
“No, no I didn’t.” He looked like he might go on with his story, but then he said, “Let’s get out of here. Go somewhere we can drink.”
They stopped at an old writer’s bar in the West Village, then went on to another couple of places. They ran into a few people David knew but hadn’t seen in years, as well as strangers who recognized him and wanted to buy a famous writer a drink. The old man introduced his son and “the lovely” Mademoiselle Camille St. Valois. There was little real conversation. Mostly, Alphonsine and Dashiell listened to his stories, none of which had anything to do with his offspring. They might as well have been fans on whom he was bestowing the gift of his presence, yet Alphonsine was certain he loved Dashiell in his way. What else could explain that underlying anxiety? Which she now understood came from his suspicion of her.
What he thought and what he could prove were different things entirely. Creative minds were capable of great intuitive leaps, but what could he know of her true nature? If he went to Dashiell what would he say?
“Have you ever seen your girlfriend in daylight?”
The answer would be yes.
“Have you seen her eat food?”
Again, yes.
“Has she entered a residence without being invited?”
Well, that would just be rude wouldn’t it?
The myths kept her safe. Yet, he might need to be dealt with, which wasn’t something she wanted to do. Dashiell seemed so happy to be with his father. She knew what it was like to have neglectful parents. One loved them no less. And when they reached out even a little, as David was doing, the grudges melted away.
If something needed to be done, she would ask Pierre to help. Of course he’d chide her, remind her this is what comes from getting too close to mortals, from living too much in the spotlight. But he’d come through and make sure the old man’s end was quick and painless, and then she’d do what she could to comfort her lover.
By the end of the evening, David was slurred and sloppy, so they rode with him back to his hotel. Dashiell escorted his father into the lobby and let a bellhop take it from there while she waited in the taxi. They were quiet most of the ride back to Brooklyn.
“A kiss for your thoughts,” he said leaning over and pecking her cheek.
“I was just thinking how cute you must have been as a boy,” she answered.
 .


About the Author:

VM Gautier is a pseudonym. This is not VM's first book, but it is VM's first book with fangs. VM is no one you've heard of and is not trying to fool anyone. All will probably be revealed soon, but meantime VM is enjoying the masquerade.

We are never more ourselves than when we wear a disguise.







Worlds Collide Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!

Worlds Collide 
S.M. McEachern
(Sunset Rising #2)
Publication date: March 3rd 2014
Genres: Dystopia, Young Adult



Synopsis:

In a desperate attempt to escape execution, Sunny O’Donnell and Jack Kenner find a way out of the Pit and into a world still believed to be toxic with radiation. Under the brilliant sun for the first time in their lives, they not only discover that the earth has healed from nuclear war, but there are people outside the Dome.

In Worlds Collide, the second book of the Sunset Rising trilogy, Sunny and Jack must continue a life of subterfuge in order to stay alive and find a way to free the Pit. But in their attempt to save the urchins, they uncover the horrifying truth about President Holt and the evil he could unleash on the world.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20427668-worlds-collide?ac=1

Purchase:
Sunset Rising:
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Sunset-Rising-S-M-McEachern-ebook/dp/B009G3ZIO0
iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/sunset-rising/id898986078?mt=11
Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/sunset-rising-sm-mceachern/1113845787
Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-CA/ebook/sunset-rising-1


Worlds Collide:
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Worlds-Collide-Sunset-Rising-Book-ebook/dp/B00ISE8BRE
iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/worlds-collide-sunset-rising/id898986821?mt=11
Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/worlds-collide-sm-mceachern/1119952432
Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-CA/ebook/worlds-collide-sunset-rising-book-two


Excerpt
Excerpt from “Worlds Collide” (Book 2 “Sunset Rising” series) by S.M. McEachern

His hand gently wrapped around my arm and I resisted the urge to yank away from his touch. I was angry, but I was conscious of the fact that we promised each other before setting out for dinner that we were just playing our roles. It was necessary for our survival. I wasn’t a stranger to being a slave. I was born one. Yet being Jack’s slave had been humiliating. He was my partner, my almost-lover and my friend. It made hearing his role in the sterilization program that much harder to take. I thought I knew him, but he was still a stranger.
He turned me around to face him, his expression sad and apologetic. “Sunny…I’m sorry.”
I could tell he was struggling and a part of me was grateful that he might be feeling some remorse. “The sterilization program?” 
My voice broke around the lump in my throat. For once I was glad my emotions had stolen my ability to speak. I didn’t want to talk. I just wanted to shut down.
“I was a little kid when my parents campaigned for that program,” Jack said, his voice cracking with emotion. “They pushed it through as an alternative to lowering the age of the Cull. They saved thousands in the Pit from being rounded up and killed.”
I opened my mouth to speak, challenging that lump, but my tears decided it was a good time to show up. I jerked my arm out of his grasp and started toward the bedroom.
Don’t walk away from me.” 
I stopped and turned to look at him. “Was that an order, sir?”
We glared at each other from across the room. Jack was the first to look away. “No, it wasn’t,” he said. He rubbed a hand across his eyes.
I continued to glare at him. “Is that why you were acting so jumpy earlier tonight? You were afraid I’d find out what you’re really like?”
“I’ll admit it was one of the reasons.”
My eyes widened in shock at his honesty.
“Don’t look so surprised, Sunny. I was the presidential heir! You think I didn’t do anything to earn that title?” He stared at me, waiting for my reply.
I didn’t have one. Maybe because at some point during our association I had convinced myself that the presidential heir I had seen on TV so many times didn’t actually exist. That man was just an image and not the same person I had lived with in the Pit. 
“I told you before we left the Dome, you changed me,” he said, breaking the silence that had grown between us. “I had my eyes opened during my time down there.”


a Rafflecopter giveaway

AUTHOR BIO

S.M. McEachern was born in Nova Scotia, Canada. She attended Dalhousie University in the 1990s where she earned an Honours Degree in International Development Studies. She worked in the field of International Development for several years, specializing in ocean development.

"Sunset Rising" is S.M. McEachern's first novel. She says the idea for the story first came to her in the 1990s when she researched a Bio-Dome experiment in Arizona for an academic paper. The thought that the world might one day need a Bio-Dome to escape a global catastrophe set her imagination into overdrive. And the ethics behind such an idea formed the backdrop for Sunset Rising.

Her goal in writing the novel is to entertain the reader with an interesting plot and colourful characters.

Author links:
http://smmceachern.com/
https://twitter.com/smmceachern
https://www.facebook.com/S.M.McEachernAuthor
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6538545.S_M_McEachern


Thursday, September 18, 2014

High Moon Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway!

High Moon
The F.R.E.A.K.S. Squad Investigation Series
Book Four
Jennifer Harlow

Genre: Urban Fantasy/PNR/
Paranormal Mystery              

Publisher: Devil on the Left Books

Date of Publication: 9/16/14

ISBN: 978-0-9893944-6-8
ASIN:

Number of pages: 296
Word Count: 90,000

Cover Artist: Jennifer Harlow

Book Description:

CLASSIFIED: A F.R.E.A.K.S. LOVE STORY

Telekinetic Special Agent Beatrice Alexander has fought a horde of zombies, psychotic vampires, even a troll. But now she faces her greatest challenge: love.
Fully recovered from her holiday from hell, Bea has returned to the F.R.E.A.K.S. with a mission, to gain the love of her werewolf team mate, Will Price.

Of course nothing is ever easy when it comes to love and war. And when the killing fields of a pack of murderous werewolves is discovered in the wilds of North Carolina, the situation goes from complicated to deadly.

Because though Bea always seems to get her man or beast in the end, this time she does not know if she will survive with her love intact. Or her life…

Available at Amazon



Excerpt Chapter One- Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered

Watching the man you love suck face with a gorgeous woman is not the best way to start a birthday. Welcome to my world.
He sits at a back booth, lips and every other body part pressed against that succubus, appearing to love every second and caress, the rat bastard. And how can he not be? The evil slut queen of doom has everything I don’t. Long, straight hay-colored hair, big blue eyes, big breasts, long lean legs, tight body all encased in a skintight black dress clinging to her perfect curves that only a plastic surgeon could ever recreate on me. I’ve envied women like her all my life, and now that succubus has my future husband in her enticing clutches. Literally. An actual succubus is clutching his soft brown hair and kissing him as if her life depended on it. Which I guess it does—as she feeds off sexual energy to live—but still. Does he have to frigging enjoy the whole experience so much?
Howdy. The jealous, insecure, emotional wreck before you is Special Agent Beatrice Alexander of the covert branch of the FBI known to the underworld as the F.R.E.A.K.S. We fight the monsters under your bed: the vampires, the ghosts, and the soon to be decapitated succubi of the world. Those terrors in horror movies? Real. Trolls, zombies, even giant snakes. Killed them all so the citizens of America can go about their normal lives. Why am I so lucky? Because technically I’m one of them. I can move anything with my mind. It’s called tele or psychokinesis. I can carry in groceries or stop hearts without lifting a finger. And let me say doing the latter is mighty tempting right about now.
The man having his tonsils examined by the succubus is my teammate Special Agent Will Price. He’s technically a monster too, at least once a month. He’s a werewolf, not that I hold that against him. After all us freaks can’t help who or what we are. We’re actually a lot like everyone else. Though Will did literally eat my last boyfriend. The psycho was trying to kill me at the time, so I gave Will a pass on that. But this…
Will shifts in his seat to get closer to her. They haven’t broken apart in over forty-seven seconds. Forty-seven! He’s kissed her longer than he’s ever kissed me all three times combined. I don’t care that she’s more or less bewitched him. I don’t care that it’s all for a case. My hands ball into fists, fingers digging so deep in my own flesh it hurts. A cool hand touches mine. I look away from this nauseating PDA toward the hand’s owner. My friend, the delectable Oliver Montrose gazes at me, his gray eyes warning me not to put into action what I’ve been contemplating. Namely storming over there and cold cocking that female dog with the butt of my Glock. Though she so deserves it. In Virginia Beach alone she’s been linked to two deaths. Two young seamen were found naked and dead in their own beds of apparent heart attacks after going home from a club with a hot blonde. Who knows how many others she’s sucked dry over the years?
For those not in the monster killer business, a succubus is a woman who Hoovers up the life-force from her lovers, much like a vampire feeds off blood. Now, I don’t begrudge a life form getting whatever they need to live. I watch Animal Planet. Sometimes it’s kill or be killed. But a succubus doesn’t need to kill anymore than a vampire does. A little can go a long way. Some people are just evil. And right now evil has Will in a lip lock.
“Whatever course of action you are contemplating inside that beautiful head of yours, I suggest you forget it post haste,” my vampire friend warns. His hand remains heavy on mine, a reminder about restraint. We don’t want to blow our cover. While Will plays doctor, Oliver and I sit at the bar, just another couple enjoying the Virginia nightlife. A few stools down, Agents Rushmore and Wolfe, in their chic Ralph Lauren polo shirts and buzz cuts, nurse ginger ales, and keep their eyes locked on the same booth. Chandler is lucky enough to be out in the parking lot waiting for the signal to take her down. Darn you, innocent bystanders. Darn you.
Lord, I hate clubs. They’re loud, crowded, expensive, and filled with hormone crazed men and women with no sense of shame or decorum. I’ve lost count of how many strange crotches have rubbed up against my backside while “dancing.” I’d only been a handful of times before I joined the F.R.E.A.K.S., and now it seems as if I live in one. Why preternaturals feel so at home in these places is beyond me. I guess to them it’s nothing but a smorgasbord. Easy pickings. Everyone’s mind is so filled with sex and booze they forget basics like safety and common sense. And now Will has joined their ranks.
“I wasn’t contemplating anything,” I snap, downing my screwdriver. “I’m not bothered by them. Not a bit. It’s work. We’re working. Another drink, please! Now! Now!”
“That is not a wise idea, my dear.”
“Wise is so overrated,” I mutter.
I glance back at the couple. Still making out, still…oh, no she isn’t! Her graceful hand slides up Will’s thigh, resting on the bulge in his pants. At first she just traces the outline with her fingertip, and then rubs against him with her whole harlot hand. He doesn’t push it away.
Rage boils over. Involuntarily I leap up, every inch of me tense and ready to rip her shining hair out at the roots. Before I’m totally upright, a hand on my shoulder presses me back into my seat. “No.”
“But she—”
“No,” Oliver says as if I’m an ill-behaved dog.
“But he—”
“No.”
Torture. This is nothing more than torture. This is worse than the time I was actually physically tortured. At least that ends. Bones heal. This will be seared into my brain for years to come. I could kill her, just pop a vein in her brain or squeeze her heart until it stops. But I reign in the homicidal part of my nature, instead gazing at my ridiculously handsome friend in an effort to calm me the frak down.
I don’t normally act like this. I’m a good, sane person. Or at least I was until I fell in love with a man who refuses to acknowledge he loves me back. He does. I mean, I’m eighty percent sure he does. The man all but said he did, and his kisses shouted it from the rooftops. He just won’t give in. Won’t let himself admit it because apparently I make him nuts. I cloud his judgment. Of course my worst offense is I give him hope. But to a control freak who watched his wife get eaten by a werewolf, these are apparently bad things. I’m in love with an idiot.
And absence did not make the heart grow fonder, at least in his case. Me, I was watching Beauty and the Beast with my goddaughter and burst into hysterical tears at the end when Belle saves the beast. Will has fared better in the past two months. I had to remain in San Diego longer than expected because of my elbow. I broke it while I ran from a crazed cop hopped up on troll blood. Long story. Ended with previously mentioned psycho ex-boyfriend being eaten by the current object of my affection. I needed surgery to repair the damage, then it healed wrong and I had a month and a half of physical therapy before I was cleared for duty. I got back two weeks ago. So I was stuck in San Diego with nothing to do but watch sappy movies and think about Will.
He returned only one of my ten phone calls, and then just asked after my health and family. I could tell he couldn’t wait to get off the phone. And since I’ve been back, well this is the longest he’s been in the same room with me. I walk in, he walks out. When we’re working, I’m either assigned to a different team or barely acknowledged. If he didn’t blush every time he looked at me, I’d be put off. But I’m no quitter. I love him, and per the songs, that can conquer all, including the neuroses of a bull-headed werewolf. I’m banking my heart on it.
“You must calm yourself,” Oliver orders. “You are acting as wretchedly as he usually does. If you recall, this was your plan.”
“Yeah, but you were supposed to be bait. Or one of the other guys. Not him.”
“A succubus feeds off living energy, which I am lacking and werewolves possess in abundance.”
“Yes, and thank you for pointing that out in the meeting. Why didn’t you just wrap him in a bow for her while you were at it? Whose side are you on, anyway?”
“The victims’,” he says. Fudge. Now I feel like a total jerk. “It is our job to keep predators off the street the quickest and safest way possible. And occasionally that requires sacrifice.” He glances back at Will, and Grin Number Two, with the tips of his fangs, forms. “Though I doubt William minds playing the martyr at this moment.”
I have to look again. Great, not only is she feeling him up, but he’s returning the favor, kneading her breast with his strong hand. Can she feel those rough calluses? Does she even care how he got them? Years of rowing on the Potomac River, that’s how. And yet she gets to second base with him before I do. “This is hell. I am in hell.”
“I do not know why you are distressing yourself over that man. I really do not. He has not showed you the slightest regard since your return. Or prior to that while you convalesced. He made his position abundantly clear.”
“You don’t understand,” I sigh.  They pull apart for air, and she says something that makes him smile. He usually never smiles, except for me. She’s even stolen that from me.
“Understand what, Trixie?”
Will caresses her face and dives in for more. “Some things are worth fighting for. They make no rhyme or reason to anyone but you, but you just know. It’s outside logic, it’s outside reason, it’s just something you sense in your very core. And if you don’t listen to it, if you allow it to slip through your fingers, then you spend the rest of your life regretting it. You spend the rest of your life an empty shell. If that’s not worth a whole damn war, let alone a fight or two, I don’t know what is.”
Will moves his lips down the succubus’ neck, and I turn back to Oliver, who studies me with a mix of sadness and anger that takes away only a fraction of his exquisiteness. I can safely say he is the most physically handsome man I’ve ever seen. Pale skin, lush red lips, cleft chin, wavy shoulder length brown hair with blonde highlights, and straight nose all in perfect proportion. The impossible balance of masculine and feminine. The only other man who holds a candle to him in the looks department is the Lord of San Diego, and even Connor doesn’t come close to this level of perfection. Not outside and certainly not inside. No one does. “You are…” he touches my face with his ice cold fingertips, “such a fool.”




About the Author:

Jennifer Harlow spent her restless childhood fighting with her three brothers and scaring the heck out of herself with horror movies and books. She grew up to earn a degree at the University of Virginia which she put to use as a radio DJ, crisis hotline volunteer, bookseller, lab assistant, wedding coordinator, and government investigator.

Currently she calls Northern Virginia home but that restless itch is ever present. In her free time, she continues to scare the beejepers out of herself watching scary movies and opening her credit card bills.

She is the author of the Amazon best-selling F.R.E.A.K.S. Squad, Midnight Magic Mystery series, The Galilee Falls Trilogy, and the steampunk romance Verity Hart Vs The Vampyres. For the soundtrack to her books and other goodies visit her at www.jenniferharlowbooks.com







A Vault of Sins Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!

A Vault of Sins 
Sarah Harian
(Chaos Theory #2)
Publication date: September 16th 2014
Genres: Dystopia, New Adult



Synopsis:

In her stunning New Adult debut, The Wicked We Have Done, Sarah Harian introduced readers to the Compass Room: a twisted experimental jail where the guilty and the innocent suffer alike. But breaking out was only the beginning…

Even though she’s escaped, twenty-two-year-old Evalyn Ibarra is anything but free. She’s desperate to return to a life that no longer exists, but prying reporters continually draw her back into nightmarish memories, using the tabloids to vilify her. Bad press is the last thing she needs during the trial of the year: the case that she and her fellow survivors staked against the Compass Room engineers. A case that could terminate the use of the inhumane system forever…

But in her dreams, she is still locked in that terrifying jail.

When she wakes, someone is trying to communicate with her in secret, through strange and intricate clues. As Evalyn follows their signs, she uncovers a conspiracy that goes so much deeper than her own ordeal. A dangerous intrigue that only she can bring to light. One that will force her to work with the one person she doesn’t want to see.

The person who owns her heart…

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18579501-a-vault-of-sins?ac=1


Purchase:
--Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00IDD9V7Y/ref=x_gr_w_bb?ie=UTF8&tag=httpwwwgoodco-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B00IDD9V7Y&SubscriptionId=1MGPYB6YW3HWK55XCGG2
--B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-vault-of-sins-sarah-harian/1118618700?ean=9780698152182
--Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-CA/ebook/a-vault-of-sins



Excerpt

In my dream, I’m alone.

The forest swells up all around me, warm and dark and moist. It’s a cocoon of comfort, if I didn’t know better. This is always the worst part of the dream—the feeling of entrapment, of loneliness. I’m lying on the ground, the underbrush of the woods spidering over my body, and I smell the Compass Room again. The wood fire, the soil, the sweat—and the blood, permeating above all the other odors.

It’s always night in the dream-Compass Room. Fog rolls through the air, thick enough to taste.

I hear the other candidates. Tanner and Jace scream the loudest. Shrieks of anguish, like their flesh is slowly being ripped from their bones. I shut my eyes to wait it out because I know that I can’t save them.

But then I hear Casey.

The underbrush ropes me to the ground, growing tighter as I twist and writhe, trying to free myself to get to him. His voice rips the night in half, and I scream to match his, back arching off the earth, the entire forest shattering into a thousand sharp pieces.

I jerk awake, lying on my back with my hand pressed to my chest, waiting for my heart to stop pounding. I inhale the cold air of my living room and hold it in my lungs as the terror dissipates. It’s like waiting for a brain freeze to end. I get up, flipping on all the light switches in the silent house, checking the shadowy corners for dream monsters.

Not dream monsters. Illusions. Nick or Meghan, a Compass Room test crawling from the darkness. There’s nothing in the house, but of course there wouldn’t be.

I peel back the curtain in the living room. Fingers of the dark trees sway back and forth with the wind and I want to throw up my heart. I let the curtain fall back into place, rush to the kitchen, and take a long pull from the tequila bottle. The good tequila bottle.

Returning to the living room, I flop back onto the bed.

The woods in my dreams are thick, always lurking with Compass Room devils. The woods around my home are nothing more than a scattering of sad little trees, but my mind doesn’t care.

Gemma and the division thought they erased Compass Room C from existence, but they can’t. It’s everywhere.



AUTHOR BIO



Sarah Harian grew up in the foothills of Yosemite and received her B.A. and M.F.A. from Fresno State University. When not writing, she is usually hiking some mountain or another in the Sierras, playing video games with her husband, or rough-housing with her dog.


Author links:
https://twitter.com/sarahharian
http://sarahharian.com/
https://www.facebook.com/sarahharianbooks
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7112593.Sarah_Harian




Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Tainted Blood Cover Reveal, Excerpt & Giveaway!

Tainted Blood
Hell's Belle Series
Book 2
Karen Greco

Genre: Urban Fantasy

Date of Publication: Oct. 20, 2014

ISBN: ISBN-13:978-1500844448
ISBN-10:1500844446
ASIN: TBD

Number of pages: 582
Word Count: 95,704

Cover Artist: Robin Ludwig Design Inc.

Book Description:

After surviving a vampire assassin (not to mention an awkward affair with a hot FBI agent that ended worse than she could have imagined), witch/vampire hybrid Nina Martinez is reunited with the full Blood Ops team in Providence, Rhode Island. Her Aunt Babe is tutoring her in all things witchcraft, and her vampire partner Frankie is enjoying the benefits of daywalking, courtesy of a demon spell.

When a segment of the Rhode Island vampire population is marked for death by a tainted blood supply, Nina and her team race to find Patient Zero before the local vampire population is wiped out. But when a demon infestation threatens to take control of the city, Nina must join forces with newly elected mayor—and closet demon— Ami Bertrand before the city falls into ruin.

Filled with fast-paced, edge-of-your-seat action, Nina and her group of supernatural misfits battle a surprising new enemy that threatens their very existence.

No wonder she still can’t get a date.

From Amazon.com best-selling author Karen Greco, Tainted Blood is the second book in the critically acclaimed Hell’s Belle urban fantasy series.

Excerpt


"Jesus Christ, Frankie," I muttered as the crowbar hit the worn marble floor with an earsplitting clatter.  So much for stealth. We should have just ripped through the doors with explosives.

We were breaking into the Superman Building. At 26 floors, it was the first skyscraper ever built in downtown Providence. It lost its last tenant three years ago, and the gorgeous art deco structure was now a towering reminder of better days, when manufacturing was booming and people had money to burn. Years of attempts to "revitalize" the area had fallen flat. This left plenty of room for the underground supernatural factions to sweep in and take over.

Frankie flashed a fangy grin at me. "What's the fun in surprising them? It's never a good time unless it all goes off the rails."

I shook my head and sighed. Ever since Frankie was charmed by a demon to walk in the sunlight, he thought he was invincible. And, sure, being a vampire helped, but he could be staked just as easy as any other vamp. His arrogance could get us both killed.

We walked swiftly through the lobby of the abandoned high rise, keeping tight to the walls. In our all-black commando outfits, we blended easily into the dark hallway.  

I stole a wistful look at the bank of elevators. The electricity was cut to the building. We'd be taking the stairs. "Want to guess what floor they're on?"

"I say top floor," Frankie said with his hand already on the door to the stairwell.

It was going to be a long-ass climb. Up the 26 stories and possibly a few extra flights to get to the tippy top of the building's airship docking station. Seriously. The very top floor of the building was built for docking blimp-like airships, so there was a pretty cool waiting area/corporate suite turned Depression-era speakeasy at the apex. Too bad we were seeing it under these circumstances.

About a week ago, a suspicious news report piqued our interest. A group of crazed individuals were caught rampaging through downtown, tossing cars with superhuman strength, punching through brick walls and causing general weird mayhem. A few witnesses described them with blood around their mouths.

Max, our newest Blood Ops member serving as double agent in the FBI, was on record as calling this a "bath salt related incident." It was simple to blame this behavior on meth-heads on a DIY bender. But we knew better. They were vampires, and they were out of control. Frankie and I were dispatched to take care of them.

We climbed the stairs quickly, Frankie almost a floor ahead of me as we ascended. My calves ached by the 17th floor, and I was dripping with sweat. The vamps would be able to smell me by floor 22 if they were paying attention.  Since I am half vampire, I can handle a fair amount of physical exertion. But a swift walk up the stairs of a high-rise carrying an extra 35 pounds of vampire-fighting gear was punishing. Pushing through the cramps in my legs, I silently vowed to increase my workouts. It was hard enough to match Frankie's speed and strength, but now that he thought he was the Man of Steel, it was damn near impossible just to catch up to him.

We hit the top, and I finally had a chance to catch my breath. Frankie smirked at my all-too-human physical stamina.

When my heart stopped racing, I double-fisted a pair of stakes and nodded at Frankie. He kicked the door open and we launched into the penthouse. Moonlight poured through the grime-coated glass ceiling.

We rushed in like hellfire, expecting to find ourselves in the middle of a melee. But the room appeared empty.

"Top floor, Frankie? Really?" I grumbled, re-sheathing my stakes. "How much you want to bet they're on two?"

Frankie raised his arm and shushed me. I shot him a dirty look, but quickly softened it when I heard the hushed groans too.

I motioned to Frankie to move towards the sounds, and we cautiously walked to the back of the room. A shape was huddled in a dark corner with two bodies laid out on the floor in front of it. I pulled a mag light out from one of my cargo pants pockets and trained it on the shadowy forms.

A female vampire inched away from the light. Blood was smeared down her face and neck, and it covered her chest. Two male vampires were on the floor, their fronts washed in red as well. The walls were covered in sticky, black-red blood. The entire room was just dripping. It looked like a blood bank exploded.

The vampires on the floor were truly dead, their pale faces cracked like antique porcelain dolls. Their appendages were just starting to decompose, but their midsections were blown out, like they swallowed a bomb and it exploded. The one still living, for lack of a better word, looked close to meeting true death herself. The emaciated vampire half-sobbed, half-moaned as she rocked back and forth.

Although they matched the descriptions of the vamps-gone-wild group, these couldn't be our marauders. They were simply too sick. They looked like junkies who overdosed. A few times.

"What do we do?" I had never seen anything like this before. I sure as hell hoped Frankie would know how to handle this mess.

Frankie walked a wide semicircle around the vampires, his shoes making sucking noises as he lifted them off the sticky, blood-soaked floor. He was worried, clearly on guard.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Kate," she croaked out.

"Right, Kate," Frankie's voice was soothing. "How long have your friends been like this?"

"Since yesterday." Her hoarse voice was barely above a whisper. "We slept in the stairwell but they came in here last night and just...." She motioned at the carnage around her and let out a muffled sob.

"So you were able to walk back and forth to the stairwell? Can you do it now?" I asked.

She tried pulling herself up, but wasn't strong enough to handle the weight of her tiny body. So she crawled towards us, plowing over the disintegrating corpses.

"Stop, Kate! Stay right there!" Frankie visibly jumped back, his shoes making a sharp thwack as they lifted off the gummy floor. "Nina, you need to call Max and Dr. O. Max needs to get the electricity back on to this building. She's going to need to go out the elevator, and Dr. O needs to bring her down."

"Why are we taking her out of the building?" I asked. Our mission was to kill them. Two were dead, and the last one was nearly there. Mission almost complete.

"Because they are Beta-Vamps." Frankie glanced at the vamp on the floor. "Right?"

She nodded, tears streaming down her face.

"No way," I protested. "Betas don't rampage like that."

"They do if they are sick," Frankie explained calmly, his eyes still on Kate.

Beta-Vamps were like the hippies of the vampire world. They were vampires that were missing the predator genome sequence. They weren't human killers. They survived on who knows what. Maybe animal blood. Maybe blood stolen from hospitals. In some extreme cases, they ate rust for the iron content. Betas were rare, and, because of their peace-loving nature, extremely vulnerable to attack from all sorts of supernatural factions.

"So why don't we just carry her down?" I said with a shrug, stepping towards Kate, breaking my boots' suction to the floor.

Frankie was in front of me before I could take another step. My stomach rolled as Frankie dropped his guard and a wave of his panic washed over me.

A few months ago, Frankie had to bind me to him to save my life. For the most part, we're dealing with it just fine. But if he's in emo overdrive and forgets to close off our connection, I get hit with whatever he's feeling. It also works the same in the other direction.

"Don't go near her. She's been infected."

"Infected? With what? Beta-Vamps aren't vulnerable to infections."

"With..." Frankie stopped. He looked shattered. "My God, I haven't seen this since 1877."

"What is it?" I pushed.

"Opium poisoning."

"Did you just say opium?"

"Blood-born opium poison. If it gets into our bodies, we die." Frankie was visibly nervous, moving in a jittery semicircle around the woman. "We can't go near her."

"Oh. Shit. Does Dr. O know what to do?" I shrunk back. Opium. Who knew? Apparently Frankie. That explained why vampires were always told not to get their fix from heavy drug users.

"I'm not sure. That's why you need to call him. And he'll need Max since we really shouldn't stay here. Now please. She doesn't have much time."

Right. I pulled out my phone. I'd start with Max. He'd need time to power up the building anyway.

He answered on the sixth ring.

He sounded groggy. "What's up?"

"Sorry to wake you but we're at the Superman Building with two seriously dead vamps and one who is really sick. We need to turn on the power to get her out of here with the elevator. Can you get this building back on the grid?"

"Christ, can't one of you just carry her down the stairs?" His voice was muffled, like he was pressing his face into his pillow.

"Frankie and I can't touch her. She has some sort of infection, something that only vampires can contract. And it kills them."

"Really?" He jolted awake. I heard the bed sheets rustle as he got up.

"I don't know, really. I've never heard of this before. But I know Frankie is freaking out, and said we need to get her out of here. And he only freaks out if there's a damn good reason."

"You know I worked for the FBI all day, right?" he groused. I heard a closet door slam.

"Seriously? Are you going to do this right now?"

"You both were going up there to stake them anyway. So they die of something else. It's the same outcome. Why save her?"

"Because, she's not a predator vampire."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Look, I'll explain later, but we are running out of time. I need to get Dr. O here, and you need to get the electricity on at this place."

"Jesus, you people are complicated. I'll be there in 20." He hung up before I could respond.

Like Frankie, Max had made a deal with resident demon and Providence mayor Ami Bertrand. As a result, Bertrand had turned Max into a Berserker, a supernatural warrior that went extinct with the Vikings. Well, extinct up until Bertrand's curse.

Since Max had been turned into a supernatural entity, but one that was supposed to be extinct, he joined our team as a double agent with the FBI. Our team is Blood Ops, an elite government agency that deals with rogue supernatural factions. Technically, we also don't exist. To humans, anyway. Our existence — hell, the very existence of anything supernatural — was on a "need to know" basis, and even the president of the United States didn't need to know. Only a very select few Department of Defense members knew about Blood Ops. That's plausible deniability for you.

But damn, the Berserker in Max sure made him grumpy.

I hit the speed dial button for Dr. O. Dr. Lachlan O'Malley led our unit of Blood Ops. Though he mostly resembled your favorite 60-something college professor, Dr. O was a Druid priest, which made him pretty damn old. And, like the Druid priests before him, he knew absolutely everything.

"Nina, what's wrong?" Dr. O asked in his thick brogue. I could tell I woke him up.

"Sorry Doc, but we have a problem here. We have Beta-Vamps that ingested opium. Two are dead — like for real, seriously dead. One is barely hanging on."

"Opium? Are you sure?" Dr. O sounded a lot more awake suddenly.

"Frankie says he's sure. Said he hasn't seen this since 18-something or other."

"Frankie would know. Do you have her quarantined?"

"Quarantined? Frankie said not to touch her. He didn't say anything about a quarantine." This was weird.

"You are in the same room with her?"

"Where else would we be?" I asked, impatience getting the best of me.

"If any of their blood gets into your blood stream, or Frankie's, that would be very bad."

"Yeah, Frankie already explained that to me. We aren't touching her.

"Nina, I am afraid it's much more serious than that. Opium poisoning tends to make infected vampires projectile vomit out blood before they die. Then their torso explodes."

That sounded bad. And gross.

"When? When would that happen?" I gripped the phone tightly, eyeballing Kate. She whimpered in the corner near the vampire bodies with her back against the wall.

"It could happen at any time. Lock her in wherever you are, and wait until I get there. Do not wait in the room with her, neither you nor Frankie. Do you understand?" Dr. O's tone was stern.

"Yes, I got it. Okay, we are on the top floor. Max is on his way to power up the building to get her out of here. Just get here fast."

"I am on my way."

The phone went dead. I hightailed it over to Frankie, who was staring helplessly at Kate.

"Frankie, we gotta get out of here." I pulled gently on his arm.

"Please don't leave me." Kate's voice was so weak, I could barely hear her whisper.

Frankie didn't move. He just looked sadly at the sick Beta, his eyes filled with tears.

"Come on, Frankie." I nudged him again. "We can't be in here right now. Dr. O's on his way."

He hesitated. "We can't leave her like this."

"We aren't going to do her any good if we get sick, too," I reasoned.

He ignored me. I changed tactics.

"Stop being a stubborn ass," I raised my voice. He still ignored me.

Kate moaned and fell into a fetal position. She began to convulse. Frankie made a move towards her, but I grabbed him. Standing in front of him, I took him by both shoulders and stared into his eyes.

"We need to get out of here before she barfs blood all over us. Don't make me go witchy on you."

It was an idle threat. Only a few weeks before, I first learned that I am half-witch as well. My witch abilities were dormant for years — hidden by my vampire genetics — until an unfortunate encounter with a spelled knife turned on the hocus-pocus. I was working with my witch mentor, who's also my aunt, on controlling my newfound abilities. Much to Auntie Babe's frustration, I was not taking to it like a fish to water. If I tried to unleash my mojo in here, poor Kate could very well blow up, taking Frankie and me along with her.

Kate's moaning was now punctuated by high-pitched cries of pain. Clearly in agony, she writhed on the floor. Her hands formed into claws, and she scratched at the body of the seriously dead vampire closest to her. His skin tore like dried papier-mâché as she drove her nails into his corpse. As she tore at his flesh, blood bubbled out of her mouth.

"She not going to make it!" I shouted at Frankie, pushing on his lanky six-foot frame. "And neither are we if we don't get out of here!"

I shoved Frankie harder towards the door. He finally snapped out of his stupor and we fled to across the room to the stairwell door. I pushed on it, but it didn't budge. Shaking the handle, I pressed all my weight against it. Nothing. I moved aside and Frankie levered a kick at the door. He succeeded in denting the door, jamming it even harder into the frame.

"Crap, Frankie! There's no time!" I yelled over Kate's ear-piercing shrieks.

Frankie looked wildly around. "Can we break the windows?"

Everything was soaked in blood. Blood we couldn't touch. Crap. I had no choice.

"Hold on!" I closed my eyes tightly and I tried to clear my thoughts, but between Kate's shrieks and Frankie's desperation creeping into my head, not to mention my own stress, my mind was too unfocused to do this right. Oh well. Close enough was going to have to do.

I felt the air shift around me, and I latched onto this small breeze, willing it to grow to hurricane strength. My hair loosed from its ponytail and slapped across my face. The swelling wind pushed me forward. Grabbing Frankie's hand for stability, I cried out the few words of Latin I could come up with that approximated "break the damn glass." The five plate glass windows on the south side of the room shook. I repeated the words louder, putting more force behind them. The wind turned hurricane strength, pushing us across the room, dangerously closer to Kate. Finally, the windows shattered one by one, shards of glass falling 26 stories to the sidewalk.

I opened my eyes. Kate was about to explode. Blood frothed around her lips, her shrieks now muffled as the blood worked its way up her throat.

Hands still clutched, Frankie and I nodded at each other, knowing exactly what we had to do. Together, we ran straight for the windows, and leapt feet first into the star-filled sky.

Frankie's hand slipped out of mine as we both twisted our bodies and made a grasp for the ledge. I caught it, just barely, almost wrenching my shoulder out of its socket on the impact. Frankie similarly stopped short next me. We dangled 26 stories over downtown Providence.







a Rafflecopter giveaway


River Vamp
A Hell’s Belle Prequel
Short Story
Karen Greco


Book Description:

Frankie and Nina head to New York City for an early Blood Ops mission.

Guess what they fish out of the Gowanus Canal?

Free at Smashwords





About the Author:

Karen Greco has spent close to twenty years in New York City, working in publicity and marketing for the entertainment industry. Originally from Rhode Island (she loves hot wieners from New York System, but can't stand coffee milk), she studied playwriting in college (and won an award or two).

After not writing plays for a long time, a life-long obsession with exorcists and Dracula drew her to urban fantasy, where she can decapitate characters with impunity.

Her first novel, Hell's Belle, was released in 2013. Tainted Blood is the second book in the best-selling Hell's Belle urban fantasy series.