#MWTEASE

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This is a continuation from last weeks posts. The brawl continues with some results.

 

Fists were flying. Men and quite a few women were mixing it up. A few ducks and dodges, deflections and redirected fists,  she avoided being hit.

She grinned as Lincoln crawled away and started after him. He deserved a bit more punishment. A body barreled into her side and knocked her into the table. The punch bowl tipped and drenched her in a fruity concoction. She didn’t have time to wallow in disgust because Avery had one hand clamped around Lincoln’s skinny throat and the other hand machine gunning his grill.

She grabbed Avery’s fist, thinking she could stop him. He shattered that illusion. His fist kept pistoning. “Enough! He’s not worth ending up in jail. Let’s go.”

Avery stood, dragging Lincoln up with him, then discarded him like the refuse he was. He propelled Emeline forward with a hand on the small of her back. Shoving the foolish out of their way, Avery didn’t stop until she was sitting in the passenger seat of the Range Rover.

“Don’t. Move.” He slammed the door and walked around the front of the SUV.

He really liked those one-word sentences, she noted. The creepy sensation she’d experienced lingered, leaving her nauseated and bewildered. What had happened?

Avery climbed into the driver’s seat.

There’s only one way he’d found her. “So where did you plant the bug?” Probably not where he would’ve liked to plant it, she thought waiting for his answer.

“Keychain.” He started the car and drove sedately down the residential street until a speeding police car had zoomed by.

Emeline pulled her keys out of her pocket. He hadn’t lied. A tiny bug dangled like an accessory. She plucked it off her key chain and tossed it out of the window.

“So anxious to see your ex, you sneak out of the house? All you had to do was tell me and I would’ve dropped you on his damn doorstep.”

“I wasn’t there for Lincoln,” she shouted.

“Then why? Why were you at that house?” he barked and took a sharp curve to fast. The tires squealed and Emeline bounced off the door.

She glanced at the hard cut of his jaw, the white-knuckled grasp of the steering wheel. The man wore the bad-ass visage as if it were a second skin, an impenetrable amor. Yeah, he defended her twice tonight. Did that make him trustworthy or just doing his job?

Emeline bit her lip. She needed him in her corner. Should she tell him everything? Could she trust him with part of the truth? She thought of the drool rolling down Belinda’s chin.

“I needed some information about the drawings. Lincoln’s sister, Belinda, is an authority on Egyptian artifacts.” Not quite true, but would do.

Stone-faced, “And it couldn’t wait until morning?”

She crossed her arms and sunk down in the seat. “No.” If she had waited, the miniscule amount of info she’d received would’ve been lost.

“You don’t need a bodyguard, you need a babysitter,” he sneered and swerved around slower traffic.

She grabbed hold of the ‘oh crap’ bar and fumbled with the seatbelt. “You know damn well they’re one and the same. So stop bitching.” She glared into his slightly surprised eyes. “I did it. I left. I didn’t do it to piss you off. If I had waited, to talk you into letting me go, it would’ve been too late.”

She couldn’t get Belinda’s slack-jawed expression out of her head. Whatever they did to Belinda, they were going to do to her. She just knew it.

An indescribable look crossed his face, then he turned back to the road. “What happened in there?”

Emeline looked out the window. Telling him might involve tears and she wouldn’t cry, not in front of him. The silence stretched and the miles ticked by. She rolled the window down, closed her eyes, and let the cold air beat her.

“So Lincoln just happened to be there. Coincidence, huh?”

She didn’t owe him an explanation, didn’t owe him anything. “They’re siblings and that’s her house. I had no idea there was a party or that he would be there. And even if I did, I still would’ve gone. Not that it is any of your business.” So why did she explain herself? “This conversation is over.” She slouched in the seat and closed her eyes.

The car rolled to a stop, jarring her awake. She stretched and a yawn escaped. How long had she been asleep? The driver’s seat was empty. Her car door opened and there stood Avery, face tight, muscles tense. Anger still radiated from him. She shook off her sleepiness and didn’t fight him when he took her hand and helped her from the car. A deep breath filled her lungs with salty air that tickled her nose.

“Where are we?” She looked around at the deserted street. This wasn’t Harlem.

“Westchester. The river is that way.” He turned her toward the front door of the building where they had parked. His hand slid down her back and propelled her forward.

“And why are we here?” She asked, letting him guide her.

He nudged her ahead of him, into the building. They walked down a hallway to a freight elevator and rode to the fourth floor. The door opened to a single metal door in a 5×8 hall. He stopped at a keypad and pressed his thumb against the illuminated console. A low beep and the door opened.

“Wow. Nice place.” She strolled deeper into the apartment. The loft opened to a large living room decorated in different hues of gray with a bank of floor to ceiling windows that had a view of the river. A chrome and steel central kitchen and formal dining area completed the spacious room. She ran her hand over the ash colored leather sofa. The dark masculine colors suited him.

“I didn’t decorate.” He leaned against the wall to the kitchen, his arms folded across his wide chest, long legs crossed at the ankle.

She wasn’t surprised. He didn’t seem the decorating type. “I said it to be polite.” She shrugged. “So, why are we here?”

“Your house has been compromised twice by Vito and you. Here is a better option.”

He hadn’t moved from his spot, yet he seemed relaxed as if being here eased his tension. “So you bring me here without asking me?”

He pushed off the wall and approached with a loose-limbed gait which accentuated his strength and sensuality. “Bodyguards do that sometimes.”

“That’s kidnapping.” She glared at him.

A careless lifting of his massive shoulders, titillated as much as it annoyed, was his answer. He clasped her chin and angled her head to peer at her bruised cheek. “Did you get hit again?”

“No.” His question annoyed her. She could take care of herself. Though she should be grateful he didn’t see her in action. “I’m not staying here.”

His glaze flickered lower, swept down her entire body. “You will stay here or I will break your legs and make you stay.”

His dark eyes threatened, yet captivated, and heated her skin. Her nipples tightened under the tacky sweater. She wanted to pull her coat closed, but wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her flustered. Then again, she was tempted to strip off her coat, no—strip everything off and see if his cool nonchalance shattered.

She couldn’t. That’s what Ridley wanted, to use her like a whore, and Emeline wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Even though she wanted him—badly.

“I’m not fucking you,” she said to herself…then realized the words had actually left her mouth. Horrified, she froze and waited for Avery’s reaction.

His face turned to granite, his eyes flinty. He crowded her with his body so close the heat of him baked her. “I’ve had enough women fuck me.”

Whoa. Her breath left her in a rush, along with anything else she could possibly say.

Avery returned to the front door.

“You’re leaving me here?” Apparently, she did have more to say.

“I’ll be back.” He punched in a code into the security panel. “And yes, I’m locking you in. You’ve blown your trust with me.” The door slammed behind him, clicked twice, and the alarm gave a long beep.

A scream almost tore from her throat when the absurdity of her situation dawned. Avery didn’t trust her. He had every right not to.

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Coming in November!

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AVERY AND EMELINE GET DIRTY!

 

One hundred feet to the front door, soon she’d be home free. She dodged the drunks, the stoners, the lovers, the dancers, and had almost made it to the exit when Lincoln stepped into her path.

Emeline rolled her eyes, sucked in a deep breath, but choked when an unexpected laugh erupted. She doubled over, holding her side, from the sudden hysteria carrying her away. “Of course I would run into you. It’s been that kinda night.”

Lincoln didn’t return her humor. He stood there, arms folded over his chest, trying to appear intimidating. “I was going to let you go. Leave you alone to live your life after seeing you at the club. Then you show up here, to see me.” He signaled to the DJ and the music ended. “You miss me, baby? Came to apologize? Kiss and make up? Start on your knees.” He pointed to the hardwood floor.

A circle formed around them. Emeline scanned the crowd, checking for Ridley and the mysterious goddess. Lincoln whistled, snapped his fingers in front her face. “Don’t have all day.”

What did I ever see in this morally bankrupt, egotistical man? Definitely not her finest moment. He opened his pants. Unzipped his fly. Took out his less than impressive, erect dick and stood there with a stupid grin. He chanted ‘knees’ and the crowd joined the chorus. Her blood boiled at him, the drunk crowd, Ridley, Avery, everything. The crowd wanted a show. Tonight, they came to the right place.

With a sultry grin plastered on her face, Emeline clasped his dick. She stroked up from the base, circled the head, and let her hand slide down. Lincoln’s head fell back and he groaned, deep and throaty. Catcalls swept through the room along with flashes from cell phone cameras as he thrust his hips out and began rocking. “You remember how I like it.” He panted.

How he liked it was pretty much how every man liked it and nothing noteworthy to remember. That was Lincoln’s problem; he thought he was special because of his family’s influence and because his genitals dangled.

She’d fallen for it. So what did that say about her standards? Not much, but tonight wasn’t about reminiscing. After what happened to Belinda, Emeline had a taste for vengeance and Lincoln volunteered to be on the menu.

She cupped his balls, rolled them in her hand. He moaned, gave a throaty laugh and high-fived the dude standing next to him.

Yeah, enjoying it bastard? She tightened her hand, ready to strike.

Awareness pricked her senses. Darkness swirled at the edge of her mind, drowning her in waves of fury. She fought it, retreating would allow the sensation to swallow her. Unconscious at Lincoln’s mercy, and the crowd was not an option.

She shook her head to clear the fog—and collided with Avery’s feral glare.

Though her insides squirmed and urged her to tuck tail and run, Emeline couldn’t move. Avery’s furious glare rooted her to the spot. His lips were peeled back and he growled. She actually heard it. Swore she felt the sound reverberate in her chest. He shoved two people out of his way and broke the circle, just as she twisted Lincoln’s junk three hundred and sixty degrees.

He screamed, went up on his tip-toes, “Get her off! Get her off!”

Emeline jabbed her elbow into his throat and the heel of her palm into his nose. His head snapped back, blood gushed and splattered on her. All the while, she kept his dick and balls in a vise grip. A fist from one of Lincoln’s friends came flying at her head.

Avery blocked the blow and tossed the guy into the nearest wall. Another came at him. A quick jab and an uppercut knocked his opponent senseless. “Wanna let go of his shit or do you plan on taking it home for Christmas?” he shouted over the din while putting a guy in a headlock and flinging him into the wall.

“I don’t want this under my tree.” Emeline kicked Lincoln’s knee and released his parts. He collapsed, cradling his crotch. She picked up a bottle of whiskey next to the punch bowl, doused her offending hand, and dried her palm on her jeans.

She hadn’t come here to start a brawl, but—oh well.

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COMING IN NOVEMBER!

There is no such thing as a chance meeting.

There’s no room in Avery Nicolis life for an obsession, yet why else does he stalk Emeline Gamble. Lurking in the shadows, he hungers for a woman he can’t have. Between the secrets he guards and anarchy roiling in his soul, his only solace are his glimpses of Emeline. He will resist her, protect her from himself, and deny his desire to claim her heart.

Emeline Gamble was a Watcher for the Order—a secret society of women charged with monitoring the offspring of the gods. For months, she observed Avery Nicolis, an elite mercenary, Descendant of Ra, and enemy of the Order. Never knowing he had her in his crosshairs.

Trapped in a lie, Emeline is forced to accept Avery as her bodyguard. Compelled to spend time with him, she learns to care for his tortured soul and see the hero lurking beneath the assassin’s façade.

But every word out of her mouth is a lie. Every action a betrayal. Because to save her family she is forced to accept a new assignment, deliver Avery Nicolis to the Goddess of Chaos, alive…

And do not fall in love with him.

 

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 Here is another snippet from the soon to be release third novel in the Descendants of Ra series. 

This wasn’t how Avery planned to spend his night, on a lumpy sofa guarding the one person he shouldn’t be near. He could kick himself for not letting EJ protect her. But his horny brother would make a play for Emeline and Avery didn’t want to have to kill him.

He balled his hands and pressed them against his closed eyes. Unrealistic dreams lead nowhere. That’s why he’d stopped following her. Following was a gentler word than stalking which made him seem like a sociopath. He’d kept telling himself he wasn’t, though he had to admit he did have some tendencies.

God, things hadn’t start out that way, but yeah, he’d stalked her. He’d seen her at a park in the West Village during the summer. An orange sundress fluttered about her legs like a flag, billowing every few seconds so every man within a two hundred foot radius glimpsed an exquisite pair of brown sugar thighs. He’d stopped and stared at her wide, almond shaped eyes, her heart shaped face surrounded by a dark mop of wild curly hair. All of her captured a man’s attention. And their lust. He’d almost gone to her. He would’ve asked for her name, taken her to dinner, taken her home, and…taken her sweetness.

She wasn’t the type of woman a man did a drive-by. She was the type a man got addicted too. Impossible in his line of work. So, he’d walked away. A job in the Middle East kept him occupied for three weeks.

When he returned, EJ had dragged him to RedZone. She was there, in the skimpiest umpire uniform ever made. Black boy shorts and stripped black and white cropped top hugged a sinful body. His skin shrink-wrapped. Sweat trickled down the center of his back like a coward. He’d wanted to turn tail, yet he forced himself to find a chair and watch her all night.

Watched, wanted, and ached. Watched her flirt with men. Wanted to kill each one of them for stealing bits of her attention that should be his alone. Ached to lick every curve and hollow, take her until the only man she allowed within ten feet of her was named Avery.

Eventually, her gaze found his. Her eyes widened and for a moment, he imagined a spark of desire. Then she turned and walked away. Rejection never tasted so bitter. And was never so necessary.

Hell! What the fuck was he doing here? There was no rational explanation for him being in her home, other than some masochistic wish to torture himself, and his presence placed her in danger.

Before he changed his mind, he had his phone out, his finger pressing seven digits. No ringing, no chance to change his mind. The connection went straight to voicemail.

“I have a client that needs protection. ASAP.” He didn’t leave his name.

He closed the phone and scrubbed a hand over his bald head. A wedge of cold fury settled in his chest. He should be happy. He’d kept his word. McIntosh would take over her care.

The coldness spread through his body to every nerve ending. The muscles across his back seized and that crawling sensation returned like the march of red ants swarming an unlucky grasshopper, chomp, chomp, chomping away.

Avery yanked off his shirt. In the mirror hanging over the sofa, he studied his body. Six months after the burn, a small black dot appeared on his back. Over time, the stain grew and changed, like a Rorschach painting with a will of its own.

Yesterday, it covered his upper back and half of his right bicep. Now, it stretched to his elbow and left shoulder. Never had it progressed so fast.  He twisted around and saw it had spread to the middle of his back. It had no discernible pattern, just a random blotch that had no meaning. What had changed?

Emeline.

He’d caught her scent when he took the water bottle from her, a desert rose mix that promised a dangerous ride, tortured him. His blood flashed hot and a different kind of fury took hold. He hungered, though not for food. And only one thing would satisfy. He looked at his phone still clasped in his hand and forced the regret away.

The memory of what happened at the lake surfaced and the thing that attacked him. Through the water and his clothing, her clammy embrace had immobilized and drained his will. Her voice had reverberated inside his head. Give me, it said. If EJ hadn’t pulled him for the lake—I can’t keep Emeline.

Shit! That came out wrong. I can’t protect her. Especially when something hunted him. She had to go to McIntosh.

A sound came from the kitchen, but he hadn’t heard Emeline come downstairs. He eased to the archway and listened. There it was again, the distinct scraping of a lock being picked. Avery used the remote to turn off the motion sensors and waited. Glass crashed to the floor, probably from one of the window squares in the backdoor.

Avery grabbed a glock and went to the archway. His heartbeat slowed as he shut down his emotions and focused on the kill, because anyone breaking into this house had a death wish he would fulfill. For the first time since entering the home, everything in him relaxed, as his body always had when facing a battle, even as the ants started nipping under his skin again.

He shifted and peered into the hallway.

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COMING IN NOVEMBER

There is no such thing as a chance meeting.

There’s no room in Avery Nicolis life for an obsession, yet why else does he stalk Emeline Gamble. Lurking in the shadows, he hungers for a woman he can’t have. Between the secrets he guards and anarchy roiling in his soul, his only solace are his glimpses of Emeline. He will resist her, protect her from himself, and deny his desire to claim her heart.

Emeline Gamble was a Watcher for the Order—a secret society of women charged with monitoring the offspring of the gods. For months, she observed Avery Nicolis, an elite mercenary, Descendant of Ra, and enemy of the Order. Never knowing he had her in his crosshairs.

Trapped in a lie, Emeline is forced to accept Avery as her bodyguard. Compelled to spend time with him, she learns to care for his tortured soul and see the hero lurking beneath the assassin’s façade.

But every word out of her mouth is a lie. Every action a betrayal. Because to save her family she is forced to accept a new assignment, deliver Avery Nicolis to the Goddess of Chaos, alive…

And do not fall in love with him.

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MID WEEK TEASE!!! EVERMORE

 

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MidWeekTease2

It’s Wednesday! Happy Hump day! And it’s time for a tease from my upcoming release. Evermore, the third novel in my Descendants of Ra series will be available in October.

 

Tires squealed to a stop. It wasn’t long before a pair of combat boots came into her line of sight. Strong hands scooped her up and cradled her against a broad chest encased in a leather coat. Warmth surrounded her, made her want to burrow closer to his heat. Male musk and a hint of something else, something dangerous filled her nostrils.

“I got you.” His voice, guttural and so damn sexy, rumbled through her.

No, he was on the hook. And she had just reeled him in. Her teeth chattered from the cold, his heat, her nerves, the lies.

Avery opened the passenger door and carefully sat her on the leather seat. He hit the overhead lights and gently took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. Calloused fingers brushed her hair away and angled her face toward the light.

“Who did this to you?” Low, his voice promised retribution.

“I didn’t get their number.” She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her. His intensity made her insides squirm.

“I’ll take you to the hospital.”

“No.” She touched his hand. “It’s okay, not as bad as it seems.” She wiggled her jaw and managed only a slight grimace.

He leaned closer. All of him filled her vision. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Captured by his heated stare, she shook her head.

“How many were there?” His finger trailed over her cheek and down her neck.

Her thoughts kinda fizzled at his touch. “Who are you?” She remembered to ask again. He gave her a quizzical look, possibly thinking of a lie, she wondered. Her phone rang. Emeline fished it out of her purse and answered without looking. She listened to Zackary pound his chest about hiring a bodyguard for her. He was so proud of himself and expected a reward. The sick hope in his voice almost made her laugh.

“Describe him.” She ordered watching Avery.

“Big guy, bald, pissy attitude. I wanted his brother, but he volunteered,” Zachary said.

“Thanks, Zachary. I owe you one.”

“Really? Well—”

She pressed end. “So you’re my bodyguard?” Perfect. Zachary finally did something right.

“Until I get someone else.” He stepped back and slammed the passenger door closed.

Why accept the job only to get someone else? Nerves made her stomach flutter as she watched him walk around the front of the Range Rover and climb into the driver’s seat. “Do you have a name or shall I make up one?”

“Avery,” he said without looking at her. The car rumbled to a start. Something loud and angry blasted from the speakers. He clicked it off, though she didn’t mind. She preferred Hip-Hop, R&B, and a little bit of Rap. No love songs, though Luther Vandross could put the most celibate body in the mood.

“Emeline,” she offered when he didn’t ask. A giggle threatened to escape, but her bruised ribs would have none of it. ‘Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.’ Well we are both, well and truly tangled.

“Something funny?” He pulled into traffic.

He’s observant as a killer or watcher should be. No more lapses. She had to be on guard. Emeline noticed his hands gripping the steering wheel. Big capable hands. “Two men. They wore masks. Tried to steal my purse.” He glanced at the satchel in her lap. Damn, she should’ve insisted they take it.

“Two men, one purse?” His gaze locked on hers. “Why do you need protection, Miss Gamble?”

She hadn’t told him her last name. She could call him on it, but he’d say Zachary told him, so she let it slide. “I don’t. I’m not the one who hired you.”

“Your ex is very concerned about you welfare.”

“You know a lot about me in such a short time, Mr.—what is your last name?” The car rolled to a stop at a red light. His head turned to her and she shifted in her seat to keep an eye on him.

“Nicolis. Your ex filled in a few blank spots before I caught up to you. Anything else you want to know?”

“Yeah. Did he fill you in on where I live too ‘cause we’re real close?”

His eyes narrowed and he glanced at the surrounding area. The light turned green. “Your boss said someone broke into your house. Beat up you and your grandfather. Now you’re attacked on the street. Your enemies, who and where are they?”

She lives in a big house on Riverside Drive. I will take you straight to her. “I don’t have enemies.”

“We all have enemies,” he growled. “Some closer than others.”

Ain’t that the truth.

 

BLURB

There is no such thing as a chance meeting.

There’s no room in Avery Nicolis’s life for an obsession, yet why else does he stalk Emeline Gamble. Lurking in the shadows, he hungers for a woman he can’t have. Between the secrets he guards and anarchy roiling in his soul, his only solace are his glimpses of Emeline. He will resist her, protect her from himself, and deny his desire to claim her heart.

Emeline Gamble was a Watcher for the Order—a secret society of women charged with monitoring the offspring of the gods. For months, she observed Avery Nicolis, an elite mercenary, Descendant of Ra, and enemy of the Order. Never knowing he had her in his crosshairs.

Trapped in a lie, Emeline is forced to accept Avery as her bodyguard. Compelled to spend time with him, she learns to care for his tortured soul and see the hero lurking beneath the assassin’s façade.

But every word out of her mouth is a lie. Every action a betrayal. Because to save her family she is forced to accept a new assignment, deliver Avery Nicolis to the Goddess of Chaos, alive…

And do not fall in love with him.

cropped-mediumevermore.jpg

COMING SOON! 

 

C

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DESCENDANTS OF THE GODS CONTEST Day 5

Continue reading

Mid Week Tease

Here is a Mid Week Tease of the 1st novel in my Descendants of Ra Series. #MWTease

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Curled on his body in the middle of Central Park, Roman let Stella sleep. Holding her wasn’t a hardship as his mind wandered to the future, their future. Foolhardy, definitely, but what else could he do when he held the object of his obsession in his arms?

Remember your promise and let her go.

He stroked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear and slid his fingers down her silky cheek. She nuzzled him, turned her face into his palm and kissed him. Every noble intention evaporated like a bead of sizzling water in a hot skillet. Cock rock hard, he had to kiss her, feel her breath on his skin, in his body. In the deserted park, he needed her now.

The fine hairs on the back of his neck bristled. He froze. Battle instincts surged to the forefront, screaming for action, instead, he listened to the night surrounding him and waited. Though not a hub of wildlife, the creatures of Central Park were silent. They also waited. Somewhere, nearby, a predator stalked.

He nudged Stella. She stretched, making him aware of every curve and hollow she possessed, and purred, a sexy rumble deep in her throat. Before she could say a word, he cupped her head and pulled her into a quick kiss.

“Shhh, we’re in danger,” he whispered against her lips.

Her head popped up and she eased off him. In the gloom, her frightened eyes met his. “What?” She mouthed.

“We have to get out of here.”

Crouched low, he took her hand, together they crawled along next to the hedge. He looked over. His keen eyesight picked up nothing and no one. So why did the same excitement he used to get before a battle race through his veins? Stella squeezed his hand. Her wide eyes sent him a question he couldn’t answer.

He drew his gun from the small of his back and the silencer from his jacket pocket.

“Roman?” Her voice wavered.

He spared her a glance. “Whatever happens, do exactly as I say. Understand?”

Her head bobbed on her neck.

“Walk beside me, not in front or behind. Got it?”

Not far from the nearest road, they stuck to the trees and away from the open expanse of the Great Lawn.

Leaves crunched behind them. He’d never run from anything in his life. Even before the curse and his immortality, he stood his ground and killed everything in his path. Now, whatever stalked him, stalked her. His senses told him only one lurked in the darkness, but with Stella to protect, he couldn’t risk it.

The Delacorte amphitheater loomed ahead. He guided her into the shadows. Stationed behind a statue, he aimed and watched the route they had just taken. Stella clutched his jacket, her shivering body pressed close.

“Tell me.”

“There’s someone out there.”

“It could be anyone, ’kids maybe?”

“Maybe.” He agreed purely to reassure her. But as he spoke, one hundred yards away, something peeled away from the shadows of a large tree and charged.

“Stay.” He ordered. Through his jacket, her nails dug into his back. He pulled away, but she wouldn’t let go. He shrugged out of his jacket and advanced. She called to him, begging him to return, but the blood rushing in his ears drown out her voice. He rushed forward and focused on the attacking foe.

Wait. He skidded to a halt. He had a shot, but . . . something was wrong. The height was too short. Whoever ran toward him must be a child—or running on all fours. He squinted at the slice of darkness closing the distance between them. The tree coverage ended and speckled moonlight dotted the Great Lawn, uncovering the thing barreling forward. For a split second his mind tried to unravel the impossible nightmare quickly shrinking the distance, before he fired three shots between its widely spaced eyes. It roared and charged faster.

“Run, Stella!” He fired running back to the theater. She hadn’t listened. Instead of running away, she met him. He grabbed her hand and ran, but she couldn’t keep up and the thing behind them closed the distance.

“Is it him, The Strangler?” she shouted breathless.

They ran past The Preserve, rounded a column and then stopped. Shrouded in gloom, the outline of the pond appeared in front of the Belvedere Castle. He didn’t want her to see what chased them, but before he could stop her, she turned. Her scream pierced the night. Yards away, a bellow replied. He jerked her around and shoved. She stumbled and fell into the water.

“Go!” This time, she didn’t fight. For a second, he watched her swim. Then turned in time for claws to dig into his side.

 

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THE STRAIN-My New Addiction

The Strain

My Sunday nights are busy. Usually, I watch The Last Ship, then Falling Skies. Finally, I switch to HBO and watch the last season of True Blood. I kept catching glimpses of The Strain, the new vampire show on FXX. The commercials drew me in, piqued my interests, but I am a loyal watcher of my favorite shows and don’t have time for anything else.

This weekend, with nothing else of TV, I made time for The Strain and boy am I glad I did. Within fifteen minutes of the first episode, I was hooked. Dracula on a plane with a captive audience, Holy Hell. Dracula—AKA The Master—doesn’t look like Luke Evans. He is the opposite of sexy. The dude is huge and Evil with a capital E.

I don’t want to give away any spoilers, and there are many—but if you are looking for a real vampire story with characters that don’t sparkle or whine, The Strain is for you.

There is no comparison to Vampire Diaries, The Originals, Buffy, Angel, or True Blood. This is no angsty hormonal teen drama set in a suburban high school or the bayou of Louisiana. NYC is the setting. The grit and grim are as real as the tension and danger. And I loved every second of it.

The Strain executive by Guillermo Del Toro is a cut above the rest of the pack. Reality (the CDC and a runaway virus) and fantasy (Dracula and his minions) blend perfectly. I have to reorganize my Sunday night, because The Strain is my new must watch show.

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HERE IS A SNIPPET FROM MY NEXT NOVEL, EVERMORE.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Avery said.

“What?” Emeline opened the water, ready to pass it to him.

He turned, finally giving her his fully attention from his crouched position. Flames danced across his skin, turning him into a molten god. “Serve me. You’re not working and I’m not a customer” he said with a scowl.

His words slapped her. “You asshole. I would feed anyone who came to my home. It’s call common courtesy. Having manners which you have none.”

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COMING SOON

 

 

COVER REVEAL TIME!

It’s time to reveal the cover of EVERMORE! The newest Descendants of Ra novel.

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There is no such thing as a chance meeting.

There’s no room in Avery Nicolis life for an obsession, yet why else does he stalk Emeline Gamble. Lurking in the shadows, he hungers for a woman he can’t have. Between the secrets he guards and anarchy roiling in his soul, his only solace are his glimpses of Emeline. He will resist her, protect her from himself, and deny his desire to claim her heart.

Emeline Gamble was a Watcher for the Order—a secret society of women charged with monitoring the offspring of the gods. For months, she observed Avery Nicolis, an elite mercenary, Descendant of Ra, and enemy of the Order. Never knowing he had her in his crosshairs.

Trapped in a lie, Emeline is forced to accept Avery as her bodyguard. Compelled to spend time with him, she learns to care for his tortured soul and see the hero lurking beneath the assassin’s façade.

But every word out of her mouth is a lie. Every action a betrayal. Because to save her family she is forced to accept a new assignment, deliver Avery Nicolis to the Goddess of Chaos, alive…

And do not fall in love with him.

COMING SOON

VIKINGS: Lagertha Lothbok

vikings_history_channel_wallpaper_by_palo90-d5y13hdAt first, I’ve watched Vikings on the History Channel since its debut on 2013 with a bit of wistfulness and nostalgia because it reminded me of Starz’s epic series, Spartacus which ended in 2013.

The comparisons between the two series are numerous: The battles, blood, feuds, death, betrayal, and the politics. The subplots and subterfuge in Vikings were as riveting as what held my attention in Spartacus. Though what solidified the appeal of the show was Lagertha Lothbok, (actress Kathryn Winnick)  Katheryn-Winnick-vikings

 

 

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wife of Ragnar, a mighty Earl.

Lagertha is a shield maiden, a warrior. She can wield a sword, hoist a shield, and kill without mercy. She is as fierce as any man, and can bring to pain in any battle. She takes no shit from anyone, including her husband who she eventually leaves when he decides the one son they share isn’t enough. Ragnar decides to take a new wife. Lagertha packs up, leaves with her son, remarries, and becomes an Earl herself.

A fitting character arc for a smart, loyal woman who fears only losing her child, and will fight to keep what she has gained. Kathryn Winnick brings her martial arts talents, beauty, and vulnerability to her portrayal of the Lagertha that captures my imagination.

I want to imbue the many facets of Lagertha’s character to my heroines, the value she places on herself, her compassion for Ragnar’s new wife and their children, leadership of her clan, the respect she has earned by being who she is. Kathryn Winnick makes it look easy, hopefully I can do the same.

I anxiously await the third season of this riveting drama. 2015 is too far away.