Friday, November 28, 2014

Book Blast: Hunters by @aoifesheri

Hunters Banner 851 x 315

blast

 

clip_image002Hunters

Book One

Aoife Marie Sheridan

Genre: Paranormal, Romance

ISBN: 9781495430725

Word Count: 62,000

Cover Artist: Airicka’s Mystical Creations

Book Description:

Abigail is nineteen, her job she hunts demons.

Her life so far has been tough, having witnessed her family’s death and her mother’s suicide she’s taken in by a priest, who believes her when she says she sees ghosts. Father Peter trains her as a demon hunter with three other members, one being Daniel, who isn’t what he seems.

But when a possession goes wrong, and ghosts start to attack Abigail, the tight rope she had on her emotions soon starts to loosen.

Abigail draws the unwanted attention of the Vatican, and she finds out a lot more then she was willing to learn.

Knowledge is power, but for Abigail it’s her undoing, and the only thing keeping her together is Daniel.

Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/7KT2Xy6hh7k

Available at Amazon

excerpt

Prologue

I sat outside her apartment like I did every night, keeping an eye on her door.

Watching.

Waiting.

I knew the day would come and I wanted to be ready. One thing I knew, he would never take her from me, he would have to get through me first. A small smile crept over my face, how I would love to tear him apart. I growled, feeling frustrated; he was one of the main threats now and I needed to eliminate him. I pushed off the wall, pulling my black hoodia closer to my eyes, a few people were around, but none paying attention to me, they were too transfixed on their own wants; a syringe giving them a pass on reality, or an encounter with a female making the sounds of pleasure heighten. I pushed all the noises aside and focused. She was moving around, her angry footsteps hitting the wooden floor in her bathroom. The water turned on, my body came alive, the want for her was too much at times and I growled for a second time.

“You okay, Man?” a junky asked from a few feet away from me, I didn’t give him an answer, just threw him a look to silence his talk. I couldn’t understand why she lived here. Maybe the chaos made her feel more normal, but that was something she would never be. A hiss made my head jerk up and then her intake of breath. My hands balled into fists, I wanted to go to her and take the razor from her hand, but I couldn’t, she would hate it if I knew. It was her own release, I didn’t understand it fully, but it made her focus on the pain instead of the real problem. A cold breeze made me study the door that led into the apartment buildings more closely; it wasn’t just cold it was ice cold.

“Nicolas!” I whispered and moved across the thirty paces that stood between her door and me in a second. I didn’t care if anyone saw, they were too far gone to understand, they would assume it was their drugged up minds seeing things. The air in my lungs now was freezing; I could feel him coming. I felt the excitement bubble inside me, a fire raged through my veins as he materialized before me. I didn’t give him a moment, but pulled the sword from the air and swung for his neck, he was quick; ducking and coming up with his own sword, they met with a loud clang.

“Daniel, great to see you.” his hard face was set like stone, his black eyes wanting blood, not mine but hers. I let the anger boil and withdrew my sword, striking his with all my force, it met its target and he stumbled back, but he regained his footing quickly. Allowing him to come at me with his body weight behind his swing, I dodged to the side in a blur and arched my sword, swinging for his back, but it met the metal of his own sword.

“Have we been practicing?” I asked in a mocking tone while taking another swing.

“Maybe you just lost your touch,” he spat back and struck my sword, metal struck metal and small pieces of ice flew towards me, I moved but a few struck my left arm, piercing me like small pieces of glass. I ignored the pain and gave him a sneer.

“Playing dirty, are we?” I asked, letting the fire heat my blade until it grew red.

“You never play nice, Daniel.” Nicolas face radiated the hate he has for me, and I returned it, letting my sword burn before I took a swipe, knowing he would block it. So I did what he wouldn’t expect, I slide towards him on the partially frozen ground and passed his legs in a blur, cutting below his knee before flipping up and swinging my sword at his back, it sliced into his flesh and he roared in pain, falling to his knees. I raised my sword, aiming for his neck, it swung high into the air, the red flame lighting up the sky, but before it made contact, he disappeared. I stood there for a moment, my blood still boiling with adrenaline. However, it fizzled and the pain in my arm came alive. Rain started to pour, and I let my sword dissolve along with my anger. He wouldn’t be coming back tonight and I needed to rest and heal. My phone buzzed as I moved away from the door.

“Daniel,” Father Peter’s voice filled my ear.

“Yeah, you got a job for me?” I asked, pulling the hoodie over my face again as I walked deeper into the shadows.

“It’s a possession; I don’t want her doing it alone.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll pick her up, I’m in the area anyway.”

I could hear him sigh with relief; he cared about her more than I had believed at the start. I was about to hang up when he spoke again.

“Thank you, Daniel. I’ll ring her now.”

“Okay, No problem.” I said before ending the call. I hadn’t gone far before the heavy rain stopped. A freak shower. I took off at the speed of light to change and get my bike, before I picked her up, she would be pissed, I smiled. She was always pissed.

Chapter One

The possession

I clicked my Nokia cell phone shut while stuffing it back into my worn, brown leather jacket pocket. Slamming the door behind me, I bounded down the hard brown tiled steps out the main door. The surface outside my door made me glide and I nearly lost my balance. Ice coated the path in front of the main door, in June? That didn’t make sense. I stepped off the icy path and took the alleyway out of my apartment building. No street lights lit up the small and dirty path, which was wedged in-between the two red large brick buildings. The path was littered with beer bottles and household rubbish, and grass sprang up amongst the cracks in the pavement. It was a run-down dive.

The building on my left was home to me, number 22 is my own place, it wasn’t much, but like I said it was mine, and that’s all that mattered to me. The other building was full of unknown people, who I had no intentions to get to know. I spent fifty percent of my time here and fifty percent of my time at the base, or the headquarters for us demon hunters. In the London area, we were the only group and within it, there were five of us, including Father Peter; the man who took me in and raised me. The man who had saved us all from ourselves. We all had our reasons and stories for becoming hunters, each one as depressing as the next.

The Base became home to most of us, but I spent the least amount of time. Cathy, Zee, and Father Peter lived there permanently, but Simon stayed between the base and his brothers, he was lucky enough to still have people, who cared about him. The rest of us just learned to accept each other as a family, as our own blood relatives were either dead or didn’t want anything to do with us.

I was the only one with no living family and who chose to live by themselves. For me, being around people; having to smile and interact was too hard. I pretended to be normal most of the day, but once I was home, I could let the mask slip and be myself. I wouldn’t be able to keep the pretense up twenty four hours a day, and lately, it was becoming harder to pretend that everything was normal. My pride was becoming my weakness. I needed people really, but I refused to give in.

The noise of my black military boots, splashing in large size puddles that had filled from the recent downpour, pulled me back from my thoughts, my black jeans were tucked neatly inside my boots, keeping them dry. I shivered now against the wind that whipped at my face, pulling strands of my long, straight, black hair out of the bun that I had so tightly wound it in, it never stayed put, its shiny silky tendrils finding an escape route too easily. I pushed some of the strands out of my deep, brown eyes and pulled my jacket tighter around my small frame. The black top, I wore under my jacket, was light and the cold air raced through it, rising goose bumps in its way. I scolded myself for not dressing in warmer clothes, but Father Peter had just called and I didn’t have time to change. The job was urgent, so I would have to do as I was.

I walked faster, keeping a look out over my left shoulder. One thing Father Peter always told me with a weary look on his face, “Always fear the living more than the dead.” Some days, I questioned his theory, but on nights like these, I had to agree. I glanced to my left as soft moans from two men caught my attention. One had a belt tightened around his upper arm as the other watched with anticipated glee. The man slapped his arm, making the veins rise, before inserting the syringe full of Heroin, More bruises than I could count coated his arm, his body slumped as his drug of choice fuelled his body into oblivion. His companion took the syringe and with greedy eyes, started to prep himself but paused as he saw me pass, I dropped my eyes, and he grunted before continuing. A gunshot resounded somewhere in a distance apartment building, the squeal of sirens soon followed.

My heart skipped a beat as my phone rang loudly. My hand, now cold and blue, hurt as I reached into my pocket to retrieve it, brushing my knuckles off the steal zip that was like razor blades against my cold pale skin. I pushed the phone to my ear not looking at the caller ID; I already know who it was.

“Zee, I’m kind of busy so you’ll have to make it quick.” I already knew what he was calling for, but I was a sucker for the impossible.

“Me too, funny that is?” I could hear the smirk in his voice. I normally never worked alone, but after the nightmares that woke me up, I didn’t want to see Zee tonight, never mind work with him, he was always centered in my nightmares.

“Hilarious, I am holding my sides.” I said as dryly as possible, hoping he would catch on quick to my bad mood. That was one thing I loved about Zee; I could be myself around him and I didn’t have to pretend to be okay. My silence never bothered him; he never once forced me to speak about what was on my mind. Yet, I often felt that he knew exactly what I was thinking. I turned a corner out of the alleyway and my body relaxed, happy to be out of the danger zone. I had come across a bit of trouble at times and especially at nighttime, when a more sinister scene developed around our complex. But what did I expect? A woman or a girl on her own, well, it all depended on what way you looked at me, I was only nineteen, but I had seen my fair share in life. I was a target for loiters, they never harmed me, just shouted abuse or made suggestive remarks. It didn’t scare me, that’s why I still walked through it and used it as a shortcut, I just hoped I would never regret all the warnings that Zee gave me. However, it did save me a twenty-minute walk through the apartment complex so that was good enough for me.

***

The roar of a motorcycle made my body tense, but as it tore up beside me, I recognized the shining/shiny black bike and its driver. Closing the phone roughly, I stuffed it back in my pocket and took the outstretched helmet that Zee held out to me. Putting it on, I took in his appearance as I clipped it shut. He wore the usual black pants; black high neck top, boots, and a long black trench coat that I knew hide all his tools. His sharp blue eyes studied me as I clipped the helmet firmly to my head. He didn’t wear a helmet, but let his black hair that sat below his jaw line hang down across his forehead.

“Father Peter?” I asked as I climbed on while lacing my arms around him. Once again, I already knew the answer, of course Father Peter had rang him and asked him to go with me, it wasn’t a good time for me, and Father Peter would do anything to make sure I was alright.

He gave me one of his smirks, “No, my crystal ball.” He jammed down on the accelerator and we took off at full speed.

I was getting sick of this; always needing a babysitter, the sad part was that deep down I knew I needed one, as I wasn’t my usual strong self, and Zee was never one to walk away from me. If he could, he would be glued to my side at all times, but as I much as I needed Zee, I always needed my space too.

We didn’t speak over the roar of the engine or the fact that Zee was dodging cars at full speed. A flash of a speed camera glinted off his helmet, he could paper a room with all the tickets he had, but in our line of work, Father Peter had the power to make them disappear. He had warned Zee that he was no longer going to sort out his mess and that he needed to slow down, but by the way he was driving, he didn’t heed one word that Father Peter had said. Typical.

We pulled up to a rundown block of houses; all identical in structure down to the overhead porch that acted as a shelter for its occupants from the harsh rain as they entered their homes. I could see the dark pavement under some of the porches, so much for the shelter, the dripping of water from the small roof suggested plenty of cracks in the old structures. The gardens were small and no flowers or bushes of any sorts colored them. They all looked grey and gloomy. This should be fun, I thought to myself. I climbed off and left the helmet on the seat.

I moved towards number 44, the house that Father Peter had sent me too, I stood at the little rusty gate and took it in. It was a two-story, standard house, white dash that no longer looked white, and brown PVC windows and door. It was clean, but like all the rest, bland and depressing looking. I moved towards the house, up the small pavement that divided the medium size lawn on either side, Zee followed behind, his coat flapping in the wind. I could only imagine what we looked like, what people must think when they called for help, and two teenagers dressed all in black, ready for action arrived at their door.

Well, Zee’s height helped his cause, he was 6ft four so he looked older, and he acted far older than his years.

At the first knock, a man opened the door, nearly making me fall into the hall with the quickness of his answer, Zee’s hand moved to my waist steadying me. I looked up at the man in annoyance, but he didn’t seem to notice. The bags under his eyes had bags, his complexion was paler than what would be considered normal, but really, what was considered normal these days? He wore simple jeans, a shirt that was stained under the arms from sweat long dried in; his stomach bulged ever so slightly against the shirt, causing strain on the three lower buttons. My eyes moved to his feet that tapped nervously on the carpet, and I was greeted with his big toe poking out of a hole in his sock. I looked back up at his brown eyes as they shifted nervously from me to Zee, but then they stopped moving and he stood back to let us in, no questions asked.

We entered into a small hallway, a brown carpet that looked like it had its day lined the floor, and an off white was painted on the walls, with the happy family pictures hanging throughout.

***

“Where is she?” I asked as I laid out my roll of equipment on a hall table, it was the only piece of furniture in the hall so it had to do. Taking a cross out of my pack, I poured holy water over it, splashing some on the hall table and the carpet. A small price to pay for us saving his daughter’s soul, rolling the rest back up, I placed it back into my jacket and tucked the bible under my arm.

“This way.” The man said looking ready to bolt but thought otherwise. He stood at the third door down the hallway; Zee placed his hand on the door, and then gave me a nod, letting me know that we had the right house. I moved towards the door, but before I turned the handle, I turned back to the man.

“How long has she been like this?” I asked as Zee got himself ready, Father Peter didn’t give many details, he just needed me to get there as quick as possible.

Tears filled the man’s eyes, “A week, maybe two.” At least, it didn’t have a long time to fester. I gave Zee a nod just as I turned the door handle and entered the darken room. Light hurts them so I switched it on and let it flood the space. It was a standard sized bedroom, nothing special about it; a wardrobe rested against one wall, it once had been white but with time, it had faded. My eyes moved to the locker that was pine, it was bare of any ornaments and sat tightly against the single bed that the girl lay on. Her body was partially naked and her long blonde hair was stuck to her neck with sweat, I couldn’t make out her features as her face was no-more human looking than the hands that rested on her swollen abdominal. I turned to the man to give him a piece of my mind for leaving such a small detail out, but he had bolted, leaving us here with his pregnant and possessed daughter.

Words of another language and another time came out of the girl’s mouth, more than likely cursing us into the ground or into hell.

Zee’s hands moved robotically, taking items out of his trench coat, he placed two small white candles on the window sill, but didn’t light them, they were a just in case. He stayed close to them, but leaned against the wall, he looked so large in the small room.

“Do you want to do it or shall I?” I asked.

I always gave him the option, he did most of the work, but I hated tiring him out.

He gave me the once over, considering if I was strong enough. “You go ahead, I’ll observe,” He finally answered.

Moving towards the girl caused the demon inside her to rev up, making the girl’s body ti move at all the wrong angles.

I splashed her with the holy water, it bubbled up on her skin, the vapor rising and disappearing, a hiss left her mouth, and more words followed. Taking out the bible, I turned to the page where the most powerful prayer lay, holding the cross steadily in my hands I started:

We drive you from us,

Whoever you may be,

Unclean spirits,

All satanic powers,

All infernal invaders,

All wicked legions,

Assemblies and sects.

In the Name, and by the power of Our Lord Jesus Christ,

May you be snatched away and driven from the Church of God,

And from the souls made to the image and likeness of God,

And redeemed by the Precious Blood of the Divine Lamb.

The sound of laughter made me stop. As the demon over took the girl’s face completely, my heart rate elevated. Zee, quick to act, lit two candles, knowing what was to come as the light bulb brightened, casting a blinding light in the room before it burnt itself out with a hiss, and small shards of glass flew across the room. I covered my face, protecting it from the onslaught of the flying glass. Small cuts across my hands stung and warm blood slid slowly across my fingers. I took my hands away, ignoring the pain. The flames from the small candles that Zee had lit danced across the room but gave little light. Not being able to see fully, always made a possession more frightening, no matter how many times I did it, it never got easier.

“A-b-i-g-a-i-l.” the demon hissed inside the girl, slowly stretching my name, but I heard it. My body responded, causing me to stumble back, never before had a demon or spirit spoke my name. I stood paralyzed.

“Abigail,” This time it was Zee who called my name and I could hear the warning in his voice. I needed to continue. I sucked in a deep breath, and wiped the blood from my hands onto my jeans, I started the prayer again, saying it faster, and louder, my voice trembled slightly. I felt shook up after hearing that thing say my name. The demon inside the girl roared to life and squirmed with a voracity that shook the bed savagely. The bed’s thin, wooden legs slammed into the carpet, the noise drowning out my words, but I didn’t stop, I couldn’t stop for fear of what might happen. I continued, as a few pictures fell from the walls, their frames snapping with the impact and the glass shattering across our feet. The curtains billowed now from an unseen wind, the bed continued to move rapidly, and the large wardrobe shook violently. Its doors swinging open and closed, the sharp bang lifting my heart every time. Zee stood protecting the candles from the breeze that raced through the room, carrying the foul stench of an unwashed body. I spoke louder closing my eyes, forcing myself to stay focused, even against the activity in the room. I clung to the cross. As my grip tightened, it caused my cuts to bleed, coating my hand once again with blood. I could feel the cross slipping, and soon my hand was empty. The slamming of the wardrobe doors was getting faster and louder, the bed hit the floor harder, the wood snapping against the strain, small splinters of wood breaking free, and scattering across the floor.

Then everything ceased, silence fell upon the room, my breathing moved in and out of my nostrils, sounding so loud in the dead silence.

“Dad?” The one word was filled with fear and confusion, and had come from the young girl; her voice broke through my numbness and fear.

I moved towards her slowly, looking at her face, she looked normal again; pale yet terrified, but normal. I smiled the best I could at her confused face, hoping to give her comfort. She met my eyes with big blue ones of her own, ones she must have inherited from her mother as her father had those muddy brown eyes. She was only about sixteen so young and pregnant; a ray of freckles covered her nose and cheeks.

“Hi, my name is Abigail, your dad called us, you were sick.” I said

She looked around the room for her father, I gave Zee a nod to go get him, and he hesitated, looking at the girl for a moment.

“It’s fine, Zee, she’s okay.” I assured him.

He left hesitantly at my words.

“What’s your name?” I asked, moving closer, trying to halt all the questions that I knew must be going around in her head right now. Once someone was possessed, they could never remember the ordeal. It was for the best or lots of people would never sleep again.

“Lucy.” she said, still looking around the room that was only lit now by candle light.

“Lucy, that’s a pretty name.” I said, she was looking at me as if I was crazy.

“What are you doing in my room? And why is everything such a mess?” she asked, looking at all the frames and shattered glass on the carpet. A logical question, yet I had no logical explanation.

“How far are you gone?” I asked, looking at her stomach; trying to distract her until her dad got here, and he could come up with whatever story he wanted to. She looked down at her belly after hearing my question and her cheeks lit up when she realized she was half-undressed. Fear and confusion filled her face.

“It’s okay, Lucy.” I didn’t get to finish as she started to scream while kicking her legs and pulling the remaining blankets off her, blood started to soak the sheets.

“My baby!” she screamed as Zee and her dad entered the room. I rushed forward, grabbing the blanket; I needed to stop the bleeding, her stomach rippled and I had to blink twice to make sure I was seeing what I was seeing. A hand formed, pushing its way against her stomach, reaching out to me, stretching her skin almost to breaking point. I fell back off the bed, away from the hand, while pulling the blanket with me. The bed started to levitate.

Lucy’s screams and her father’s pleas to save his daughter made the room swarm around me. “Abigail, Abigail,” the voice danced around me, I covered my ears. “No, NO!” Zee’s feet rushed past me and he jumped up on the bed, fighting the hysterical flailing arms that Lucy threw around as her stomach stretched and moved at abnormal angles. The demon had attached itself to the child’s soul. I snapped out of my daze. The cross lay on the ground, its gold surface now tainted with my blood. I grabbed it and jumped up while holding onto the cross for dear life, as Zee placed his hand on Lucy’s stomach, a gust of air ripped through the room, throwing everything into chaos, the candles hit the carpet and distinguished almost immediately, leaving us in darkness. I couldn’t move for a moment, but could only watch as light poured from Zee’s fingertips, blinding all of us. Sound ceased to exist at that moment, while everything around us continued to shake, I could feel the ground under my feet vibrate. Through the light, I could see Lucy was still alert; her mouth open as she screamed in fear and agony. Her eyes wild, the veins bulged in her neck as she continued to scream soundlessly. It was like watching a movie with the sound on mute. A large crack raced down the wall behind the bed, just stopping at the skirting board, and then the room went dark. The world stopped shaking.

“Lucy, Sweetheart, Talk to me” her father’s frightened whispers reached my ears as Zee’s strong arms pulled me into a tight embrace. His smell, his warmth calmed me. His heartbeat pounded against my ear, bringing me back. I look up at him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, I nodded, saying yes, but I was anything but okay.

I pulled away and stood on trembling legs, making my way to the bedroom door, once I opened it, light flittered into the room. I looked at Lucy, her body lay still. She looked snow white against the blood soaked sheets.

The father’s face turned to us tears stricken and red with anger. “What have you done to my baby girl?”

I didn’t reply, but took out my phone, ignoring the trembling in my hands, pausing before making the call, I turned to Zee. “Did we lose the baby?” I asked, he nodded his head, and a pang twisted my heart. “The girl?”

“She’s alive.” he answered and left the room.

I pushed the button and made the dreaded call.

“Father, we need a clean-up team and an ambulance; we have a casualty.” I gave a very short version of events and hung up. Within five minutes, the room was bustling with our fall-out team. I didn’t wait around, but left with Zee out the front door, too tired to wait for the questions that I knew would follow, this was the first casualty I had ever experienced. Well, this was the first time I had dealt with a pregnant teen.

“Abigail and Daniel, what happened here?” I cringed at the sound of Mark’s voice; he was over the clean-up team, I liked him, but I didn’t want to talk right now. Mark was once upon a time a funeral director, but soon, switched jobs when his own daughter was possessed by a demon. His hair now was snow white unusual for a fifty-year-old, but from what he had witnessed, I wasn’t at all surprised. It was a lot for the mind to take in and then to know the truth and live with it was another thing completely. His face was always tanned, no matter what time of the year it was here in London, but it didn’t erase all the wrinkles that covered his face, his eyes were green and didn’t hold much warmth for the world.

“I’m tired; Mark, but I’ll file a full report with Father Peter.” I said, he looked at me for a moment, his eyes falling on my bloody hands, he could see how shook up I looked this was the only thing that saved me, he looked me over once again before giving in.

“Fine, but first thing in the morning.” I nodded, “yeah.”

I climbed onto Zee’s motorcycle numbly, the seat now soaked from the recent rain, I could feel it seep into my jeans, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to go home; at days like this, I just hated my job.

Zee drove with more care on the way back, I wanted him to go faster as the wind was freezing, numbing my hands and face. I wish it could numb my mind right now, but no luck; the images of the blood soaked sheets would be etched in my mind for a long time. My hair scratched my cold face, making me close my eyes tightly as they watered, but each time, I could see the girl’s face and the sheets soaked in blood, I opened my eyes, and everything was blurred. I buried my head in Zee’s jacket, just wishing I was home.

The sound of the engine dying down, alerted me that we had stopped, I was home. Zee had parked just outside my apartment building; I climbed off handing him the helmet.

“I need some time alone, Daniel.” I never used his proper name, but I really wanted to be alone.

“Okay, but if you need me…” I shook my phone at him, my hands trembled slightly so I stuck them back into my pockets to hide them from his watchful eyes, but he had seen the shake in my hands and seen the blood, he wasn’t stupid. “Yeah, I know you’re only a phone call away.” he smiled weakly and turned to go.

“Zee, thanks for helping.” I said, knowing if he wasn’t there, I would have lost two souls and not just one.

“Do you want me to fix your hands?” he asked while looking at my jacket pockets where I had stuffed them in.

“No, it’s only scratches.” I turned and walked into the building. Climbing the steps two at a time, I made it to my door and kicked it shut, while moving through my dark and small apartment, not caring for light. Well, I couldn’t exactly trip over anything since not as much as a rug was in my hallway. I officially never moved in, the only thing I had that was personal was my clothes, and I wanted to keep it that way. Once I reached the small kitchen, I opened the top press, retrieving a bottle of vodka. My phone started to ring just as I was unscrewing the lid. I took a large gulp, letting the vodka leave a burning path down my throat. The persistent ringing got my heart rate elevated, it was Zee; no doubt worried, but I just couldn’t. The baby, the poor innocent child, condemned to hell. I picked up the still ringing phone, and throw it against the wall, watching as it shattered across my floor. Soon, silence followed. Silence that I hated; it tormented me, I walked to the small shelving that sat above my kitchen table that only held two. On the shelve, sat my sanctuary for now; a stereo, I blared it, some angry rock band was screaming at me but I didn’t mind; it filled my head with noise, and I filled my mouth with vodka.

No matter how much noise entered my head or how much Vodka entered my system, I couldn’t switch off. My father’s face came to mind, I don’t know why him, but memories of his face wrinkled from stress and worry flooded me. He wasn’t around much through my life, yes, he lived with us, but worked non-stop, his job wasn’t demanding in the mines, yet he always left me to take care of my brother Sam. My mother suffered from depression my whole life so she couldn’t take care of us, so I did. One memory haunted me in particular;

“What’s wrong, Abigail?” I had jumped at my Dad’s voice, he wasn’t meant to be home yet, so I didn’t hear him come in. I was standing inside my parents’ bedroom, watching my mother sleep; she often slept the whole day away, and sometimes, I would check on her.

“Why is that man always with mammy?” I had asked as I looked at the man standing beside my mother’s bed as she slept. I couldn’t see his face, he always wore a hoodie. However, I knew he was a bad man. My dad’s huge hands pulled me around so I was face to face with him; he had to kneel down so we were at eye level.

“What man?” I could hear fear in my dad’s voice.

I pointed at the man, and my dad pulled my hand down while shaking his head.

“Stop it, Abigail. Nothing is there.” He was angry now. This wasn’t the first time I had seen things and told him, but it always got me in trouble. I thought maybe my dad might see the man, but he never did.

“Yes, there is.” I insisted, I could see him, I wondered why daddy couldn’t.

“Why are you making up stories again? Do you want to upset daddy?” My dad shook me gently but his hands tightened on my arms.

I could feel tears come to my eyes.

“I’m not making them up, Daddy.” I whispered.

He lifted me up and took me to my room. Fear and anger was visible on his face.

“When you decide to tell the truth, I’ll let you out.” My dad moved to the door and looked back at me. I could see sadness there; this wasn’t the first time I had been locked in my room.

“It’s not real,” he said before he turned off the light and turned the key in the door.

I curled up in the corner of the room, knowing that the man was here with me now. I knew he stood in the other side of the room, his face still hidden by his hood, but he used to whisper my name; it became something sinister, malicious. “Abigail,” But I soon came to understand, that no one would believe me, so I stopped.

“Abigail,” I could hear him again. “Abigail,” It was becoming louder. “Abigail,” Silence. My body became aware; I didn’t open my eyes as I knew something hovered over me. A solid feeling filled my palm, heavy plastic. I didn’t think, just acted. My palm tightened around the plastic and I struck out while opening my eyes, a pair of brown ones looked back at me; alarmed. The knife just rested against his throat. The guy was around my age, his skin was tanned and smooth looking, brown hair was cut tight to his head. I swallowed as panic rose inside me; my breathing became heavy as I tried to take everything in. I was sitting on the ground with my back against the wall while this guy sat on his knees, leaning over me, he just stared at me with those eyes. His lips held ridged in a line; ones I knew if they relaxed, would be oh-so-kissable. The surprise of my thoughts must have been visible by the slight rise of his lip, a blush rushed to my cheeks, giving color to my pale complexion, this made him smile more.

“You find this amusing?” I pushed the knife deeper against his throat, wiping the smile off his face, his eyes darkened. I felt I knew him from somewhere, yet I knew I had never seen him before.

“What are you doing in my home?” I asked starting to rise, forcing him to stand up with me. I kept the knife at his throat. The reality was, this guy broke into my home and was watching me sleep. “Father Peter sent me,” He said with anger in his words.

“For what?”

“I volunteered to check on you.” Regret soaked his words.

“Well, aren’t you my hero! Breaking an entry and watching me sleep, that’s just creepy.” I spat back.

“Your door was open, and I thought you were dead, but I can clearly see I was wrong, you’re far from it.”

“You thought I was dead? What, you never saw someone sleep before?” I asked, causing a crimson color of humiliation to race up his neck.

“Are you always such a bitch?” He asked angrily “And could you, please, take the knife away from my throat?”

I contemplated, “You have to answer one question, if you get it right, I’ll take the knife away, but if you get it wrong, I slice your throat.” His simmering eyes allowed me to ask with a smirk “Name the six types of demons.”

My guess was if Father Peter sent him, then this guy was new and just fresh out of training, and with the clothing he wore, he was new to this. His army style green bottoms coated in pockets, along with a shirt jacket that also had loads of pockets along its arms, indicated he was new. When we were trained, we had to go through a lot of physical work. I still kept my work up in the gym, so members thought with such training, we could kick demons’ butts, but it was for our mental health more than anything. Father Peter maintained that working out released a lot of stress and also kept our minds focused. I looked at this guy again and the feeling that I knew him, never left. But I never got my answer, I was distracted for a moment and he used this opportunity by grabbing my wrist and swiftly pulling the knife away from his throat, he threw it on the floor and it hit with a loud clang. In a blink of an eye, he was kicking out my legs from under me, my face met the floor, and his weight on my back as his breath brushed my neck.

“GET OFF ME.” I roared, he leaned harder on my back, making me fall silent. “Leeches, Whisperers, Feeders, Tormentors, Disturbers, and Takers. Don’t you ever pull a knife on me again.” he finished.

“Fine, now, Get. Off. Me.” I said clearly and loudly, but not roaring this time as I was struggling to breath, the pressure left my back and I jumped up breathing heavy.

“Happy now?” He asked with a smirk. His smirk caused a growl to leave my throat.

“Get out, now.” I pointed at the door.

He raised both his hands, his smirk faltering. “Don’t worry, I’m going. It was nice to meet you, Abigail, and encase you were wondering about my name, it is Blake.” He said then disappeared out the door. I moved slowly into the hall to make sure he was gone. I got a glimpse of his retrieving form as he moved down the stairs. I shut and locked the front door after him, and checked all my windows. My head pounded and I still felt woozy. I moved back into the kitchen and stood there far longer than I thought. When I looked at my plain black clock, that was the only decoration in the kitchen, the hands read three O’clock in the morning. I knocked off the kitchen lights and moved to my bedroom. I had to fight my way to the bed as the floor was covered in clothes, my locker was coated with dust and three used glasses sat on top of it. When I finally reached my bed, I fell into it, consumed with exhaustion, but sleep didn’t come easily, I spent nearly the whole night with my heart racing at every sound.

DANIEL

I entered the Base, needing to get some rest, my arm still hurt and only sleep would heal it.

“Did you have to save Abigail again?” My body tensed at Cathy’s words, I hated how she treated Abigail, I would have snapped her neck in a second, only Abigail would be upset, I really couldn’t understand why she even liked Cathy.

I turned around and gave Cathy a full stare that made her squirm, she was attractive, but her soul was poisoned with bitterness and she wasn’t Abigail.

“No, what are you doing here?” I made my tone sound calm, but my hands itched to reach out and hurt her.

“Great to see you too, Daniel.” she scowled at me before turning on six-inch heels and made her way to the kitchen. She hated rejection and for some unknown reason, seemed to crave mine. Abigail said she fancied me, I think she did it to piss Abigail off. I locked my bedroom door behind me and laid down on my unmade bed before closing my eyes and falling asleep.

I woke up feeling better and looked at the clock; it was 1:30 in the morning. I should have been watching her, not sleeping. I dressed quickly and left. It was quite at the base; anyone that was here was asleep.

I pushed my bike a bit away from the building before starting it and made the 15-minute journey to Abigail’s. I stashed my bike under some bushes, the same place I left it every time, and walked to my usual spot not many were around tonight. I relaxed against the wall and focused. I could hear her door slam and the pounding of her heart. I raced as the main building door opened and a young guy walked out. I grabbed him before he knew it and pinned him against the wall.

“What are you doing here?” I kept one arm across his throat, letting him know I would crush his windpipe if he forced me. But I didn’t expect the bitter smirk on his face.

“At last, we meet Daniel. I needed to see what you turned for.” I didn’t let him go.

“So you’re one of mine? Thank God, you’re okay,” I said, but my words were laced with sarcasm.

“God doesn’t exist, but you already know that. Now, get your hands off me.” I did the opposite; I pushed my arm tight against his throat.

“Keep away from her or I will kill you.” It wasn’t an idle threat and from the look on his face, he knew it.

“Fine.” The word was barely audible, but I let him go and watched as he sucked in air.

“What did you say to her?” I was worried, but hid it from him.

“I just introduced myself.” He smirked again and I took a threatening step towards him, he raised both hands.

“As Blake; the new demon hunter. That’s it, okay? Relax.” I pushed him hard against the wall, his head bounced back and he winched with the force.

“Don’t ever tell me to relax.” his face was red with anger, but I walked away and resumed watching from my spot. He left, his hands balled into fists, throwing glances my way. I needed to get rid of him or he could ruin everything. It was only another hour before I heard her going to her bedroom.

  

 

  abouttheauthor

 

clip_image004

Aoife Marie Sheridan has loved reading from a very young age, starting off with mills and boon's books, given to by her grandmother her love for romances grew, by the age of 14 she had read hundreds of them.

Aoife had a passion for writing poetry or in her eyes her journal entries. It was something she did throughout her teens and into her twenties. Aoife won first place for two of her poems and had them published at a young age of just nineteen. Realising she needed to get a real job (What writing isn't) she studied accountancy and qualified working in that field for many years, until her passion for reading returned and she found Maria V Snyder. Poison study one of her favourite books has been read and re-read countless times.

Aoife's first book Eden Forest (Part one of the Saskia Trilogy) came to be after a dream of a man and woman on a black horse jumping through a wall of fire and the idea of Saskia was born. Now with her first novel published and taking first place for Eden Forest with Writers Got Talent 2013, Aoife continues to write tales of fantasy and is currently working on her third book for the Saskia Trilogy amongst other new works.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Aoifemariesheri

Website: www.aoifemariesheridan.com

Blog: https://aoifesheri.wordpress.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/aoifesheri

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6551996.Aoife_Marie_Sheridan

Google +: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+AoifeMarieSheridan

Book Blast, Giveaway & Guest Post: Hellish Haven by @LBelowtheauthor

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clip_image002Hellish Haven

L.K. Below

Genre: Dystopian Romance

Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.,

Lyrical Press Imprint

Date of Publication: November 17, 2014

ISBN: 9781616506254

ASIN: B00NJ0VL6A

Number of pages: 72

Word Count: 33,718

Cover Artist: Renee Rocco

Book Description:

Two lives. Two realities. But only one truth.

The Senator reigns all-powerful in a manifested picture-perfect world. No worries. No wars. Only the unspoken threat of oblivion if you step a toe out of line. On the other side of the divide, the rebels face a debilitating war against an invulnerable robotic army. Every day is a struggle to earn back their freedoms. Freedom to feel. Freedom of speech. Freedom of thought.

Sergeant Grant Baker is pivotal to the war effort. But ever since his wife’s abduction, he’s been walking around in as much of a daze as the Senator’s brainwashed citizens. Then Eva reappears—without memories of him or their son. And he’s willing to do anything to keep her. Even if it means jeopardizing the war.

Eva doesn’t know which side to believe. Her predictable life as a single nurse, or the man claiming to be her husband. All she knows is she needs to discover how to end the war, quickly. If she doesn’t choose sides soon, she may lose the man—and the life—she never knew she wanted.

Available at Kensington Books BN Kobo Amazon iTunes

excerpt

Acting as vanguard for the injured squad, Grant turned a corner and froze. A hulky man carried a limp woman over his shoulder.

Grant automatically reached for his gun. Even if they weren’t yet across the divide, he couldn’t stand idle as a man accosted a woman. Or worse. He aimed the rifle at the criminal. “Set her down nice and easy.”

The man froze. He glanced over one meaty shoulder, his unshaven mouth set in a scowl.

“Set her down, or I’ll shoot.”

A gold tooth flashed as the criminal grinned. He hurled the small woman at Grant and dashed for the slim space between two buildings.

Grant moved without thinking. His gun clattered to the ground as he lunged forward to catch the woman before she split her head open on the sidewalk. He grunted as he caught her with her weight against his bruised forearms. He shot a flickering glance her way. A riot of brown curls obscured her face. He set her gently on the ground.

He dashed for the opening the shady figure had disappeared into, but saw no sight of the man. The delinquent was long gone.

Ashland panted as he jogged to Grant’s side. “What happened?”

If Grant never heard that question again, it would be too soon. He shook his head wearily. “Mugging, I guess.”

“They still have those here? I thought the Senator brought an end to violence.” Ashland drew sarcastic quotes in the air as he spoke.

Grant didn’t bother to answer. He turned to the woman and where his squad was now gathered. A horrified private glanced from the woman to Grant and back again. “What do you want us to do with her…sir?”

If they left her, the Senator’s people might find her and stick her back in the pen with the rest of their brainwashed sheep. Then again, that same goon might double back to continue what he started.

He crossed to the woman and crouched to lift her into his arms. Her tangled hair fell away from her face. He nearly dropped her. “Eva?”

Frantically, he pressed his ear to her chest. Her breathing was shallow, but her heartbeat steady and strong. He clutched her tighter. He couldn’t believe it.

He’d found his wife.

guestpost

Grant and Eva’s Ten Tips to Surviving a Government Takeover

After living for eight years at the heart of a resistance movement against a corrupt government brainwashing its citizens into compliance -- or else eliminating them altogether -- Grant and Eva Baker from Hellish Haven consider themselves experts at the art of sticking it to The Man.

How did they do it, you may ask? I’ll let Grant and Eva take the stage on this one…

Eva: Stockpile supplies, especially medical supplies. And while you’re at it, learning some rudimentary nursing for patching up injuries on the field is critical. After all, you…

Grant: Can’t visit any facilities owned or monitored by the government. Not hospitals, libraries, public transportation or even church if you have reason to believe you will be caught.

Eva: While you’re at it, avoid any media which might be influenced by the government. This includes radio, television, and yes, even internet.

Grant: Be careful who you trust. Even your wife…

Eva: When are you going to let that go? I was brainwashed. And I stopped myself in the end!

Grant: *sidles closer, whispers* Trust no one.

Eva: *surreptitiously kicks under the table*

Grant: While I’m at it, I’d like to mention that when walking into enemy territory you should always, always, always be armed.

Eva: *rolls eyes* It was one time…

Grant: All it takes is one time to result in utter disaster.

Eva: You know that old adage about not accepting candy from strangers? Well don’t take vitamins or “medicine” doled out by the government either…especially if you know you aren’t sick.

Grant: Virtual photo frames with little red dots in the corner should probably be avoided, too.

Eva: Especially if they change on their own. *shudders*

Grant: A gunshot solves that pretty quickly.

Eva: As always in dangerous territory, make sure to stress to your kids to remain inside or behind cover at all times.

Grant: I don’t even know why you’re mentioning that one. Miguel never gives us any trouble. I trained our little soldier well.

Eva: Exactly. Our little soldier. This is exactly why we have to get the hell away from this place.

Grant: *nudges* We’re in front of company, honey. Can you try to look happy?

Eva: *whispers* How am I supposed to do that when we’re fighting a war just outside our door?

Grant: *forced smile* Always have an escape plan, my friends. But when in war, don’t let your morals stoop to those of your enemies. If you become no better than they are, what is the point?

Eva: Keep something close at hand that reminds you what you’re fighting for and keeps you moving forward toward your goal.

Grant: *wraps arm around Eva’s shoulders* Actually, that’s good advice for anything.

Read more about Grant and Eva’s tale in Hellish Haven, out now from Lyrical Press.

 

 

 

  giveaway

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abouttheauthor

clip_image004L.K. Below wrote Hellish Haven to bring her love of Orwell’s classic 1984 into the modern day…or near future, as it turns out.

She reads as obsessively as she writes and likes to Tweet about both at @LBelowtheauthor.

www.lbelow.net

http://twitter.com/LBelowtheauthor

November 20 Twitter Party

1-2pm EST #hellishhaven

Wednesday, November 26, 2014

Book Blast: Protect Her by @SophiaKimble

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clip_image002Protect Her

The Druid's Curse

Book 1

Sophia Kimble

Print Length: 260 pages

Publisher: Soul Mate Publishing

ASIN: B00O4G18RK

Book Description:

Golden Alexander is trapped in a nightmare.

Trying to flee her hallucination of a demon, she runs heart first into the brooding alpha male she’s been dreaming about for years, and then her nightmare really begins.

Kris Pietka is done with women...he’s broken. But when he meets Golden, an overwhelming need to protect her tests everything he thought he knew about himself, and the paranormal.

A bond forged centuries ago thrusts them together as they search for a way to break an ancient Druid curse prophesying their demise. Racing against the clock, they travel from Vermont, to the Carpathian Mountains in Poland, and the Scottish Highlands in search of answers and a way to break the curse.

But something evil watches—it covets, and time is running out.

Will fate allow love to prevail against unbeatable odds, or will Golden wake to find it was all a delusion?

Available at Amazon

excerpt

The side door to the house opened behind her.

“Matka? Dzien dobry? Ma? Hello?”

The deep male voice filled the kitchen. Filled her. Her muscles tightened, her arms vibrated like she’d been doing yard work for the last hour and had just turned off the weed whacker.

Mary raised an eyebrow in her direction before looking past her to the door. “Kris, proszę meet Golden. Come, come.”

Heavy boots sounded on the wooden steps. The loud thumping stopped as if in mid-step and an invisible electric current slammed into her back. Heat spread through her and settled in her belly.

“Matka, what’s going on here?”

“Golden is your Babci’s new caregiver.” Mary enunciated as if she were speaking to a five-year-old. “I told you last week she answered the ad and was coming today. She’ll be starting on Monday.”

Mary glared at Kris and then turned to Golden with an apologetic smile on her face. Kris moved around the table and stood next to his mother.

Her mouth fell open.

He narrowed his piercing blue eyes at her, and a lock of sandy brown hair fell from behind his ear.

Holy shit.

He looked exactly like the man she’d been dreaming of for years.

The once cozy kitchen felt tiny. Airless. Too hot. Using the table as a lever, Golden forced herself to stand and shot a glance in Mary’s direction, worried she was hallucinating her dream man and looked delusional. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d acted crazy. Okay, Mary didn’t act like her new employee was tripping her ass off. Good to know.

Words in a language she didn’t understand flew out of his mouth, his unfriendly gaze fixed on her. Wow, angry much? He was obviously talking about her in a not so nice way, which pissed her off. Combined with her confusion, she was a hot mess. And all the while her emotions were ping ponging, her body pulsed, begging for this jerkoff to touch her.

His brows furrowed, and he ranted as though she weren’t in the room. Rude. New plan. She’d figure out how she’d dreamt of him later. First, she wanted to know what he had against her and why she reacted to the jerk like he’d brought her a dozen roses while hanging out the sunroof of a limo.

Mary cut him off with a single word. “Dosyć!” She closed her eyes and whispered, “Enough.”

Kris sucked in a breath, and without another word, pivoted on his heel and walked deeper into the house.

What was wrong with him? Ever hear of anger management classes? And what was wrong with her Benedict Arnold body? Pick an emotion and stick to it. Anger, that’s what was called for here. Not, gee you’re hot, I’ve been dreaming of you for years. Want to hook up?

Figures, the one guy that finally made her wake up and say hell yes was a total turd.


abouttheauthor

clip_image004Sophia Kimble has always wanted to be an author, but for years, life got in the way. She wouldn’t change a thing about how her life turned out, though. Her family keeps her laughing and loving. Her wonderful husband and two extraordinary children stand beside her every step of the way and make this journey called life worth living.

Sophia has worked as a nurse for twenty years, but has put that career path aside to devote her time and imagination to writing down the stories that keep her up nights.

She takes her love of the paranormal, history, and genealogy, and weaves them into tales of family, fated love, and supernatural occurrences.

Connect with Sophia at the following sites:

Website: http://sophiakimble.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/sophiakimbleauthor

Twitter: @SophiaKimble https://twitter.com/SophiaKimble

Saturday, November 22, 2014

Win a $20 gift card – Kelsie Belle’s Eryn: The White Witch’s Legacy 2 Book Tour #EroticRomance




Welcome to Sensuous Promo’s The White Witch’s Legacy Book Tour.  
Watch for the Giveaway Below!




The White Witch’s Legacy 2: Eryn


Eryn Lancaster is grieving the loss of the only family she’s ever known, her grandmother Clarisse. She wants to sell their little business and move away from the village she has lived in all her life, in order to get over the pain of loss. Then a gorgeous business man walks into her little bookstore-cafe with an offer to purchase and turns her whole world upside down. But Eryn is in for the shock of her life when she finds out who she really is and just why Asher Valentino sought her out.
Ash is on a mission to help his brother's girlfriend, Raven, find her long lost sister, in order to defeat an evil sorcerer. But when he finally finds the enchanting beauty called Eryn Lancaster, the mission becomes the last thing on his mind. He wants her and he plans to have her by any means necessary. He plays a dangerous game of deceit by omission that almost gets him the prize he desires most, Eryn's body. But he soon learns that lies and lust could cost him the prize that he needs the most, her love.
A Siren Erotic Romance


Excerpts:


Eryn knew it was rude to stare, but she couldn’t help herself. God knew it was very rare that such a fine specimen of manhood even passed by the threshold of this antiquated store.


Of their own will, her eyes traveled down from his face to peruse the rest of him, and she was not disappointed in the least. He was tall, at least a good foot or so taller than her petite frame, with lean muscles that spoke of strength without unnecessary bulk. She could only imagine how absolutely fantastic he would look without the black button-down shirt he was wearing. The long sleeves were cuffed to his elbows, the fabric stretching across his chest, and she imagined that, if removed, it would reveal sinuous muscles and not an ounce of spare fat on his frame.


“Hello?” the stranger said. His smooth as silk, raspy voice broke into Eryn’s reverie and snapped her back to reality. That’s when she realized that he was staring at her so intently that his gorgeous eyes were literally smoldering. Heat suffused her face in an instant, the fire in his eyes sparking a yearning within her that was totally unexpected. She blinked rapidly in a bid to pull herself together, and hoped to God there wasn’t actually drool oozing out of the side of her mouth.


“Oh! Um, yes, hello,” she stuttered in a rushed, breathy voice that made her blush as she heard it. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Please forgive my rudeness. You must be the gentleman that’s interested in purchasing the store, right?”


There was a slight pause and Eryn noticed a flicker of confusion cross his face, but it disappeared so quickly that she couldn’t really be sure. “Ah…yeah, that’s right! I came to take a look around,” he replied, almost as if he’d forgotten why he was here. That struck Eryn as odd, but she didn’t dwell on it, although it would be too bad if such a gorgeous man wasn’t altogether right in the head. She almost chuckled at that thought.


“Well then, right this way, please,” she told him, stepping aside to allow him to enter the small store.


He stepped across the threshold, his steps faltering almost imperceptibly as he did so. He quickly regained his equilibrium, though, making her wonder again if she was imagining things. He walked confidently into the cluttered room so she could close the door behind them. She watched closely as he shoved his hands into his pockets and looked around the room several times before turning back to her.


“I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Asher Valentino,” he said with a devastatingly disarming smile.


He withdrew one slender yet strong hand from his pocket and leaned over to offer it to her. Eryn licked her unexpectedly parched lips before reaching out to accept his gesture. The moment he enclosed her small hand in his firm grip, heat shot up her arm and her whole body began to tingle with a sensation she’d never felt before in her life. Every nerve ending seemed to come alive, the hairs on her neck prickled, and her eyes flared with an awareness that was almost tangible. Utterly unnerved by the strange occurrence, she quickly pulled her hand out of his hold, offering a feeble, apologetic smile for any offense he might take to her response.


“Um, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Valentino,” she told him, then had to clear her throat when she realized how husky she sounded.


His smile remained in place, but his eyes narrowed slightly as he continued to study her. “Oh no, Ms. Winthrop, the pleasure is definitely all mine. I must admit, though, you aren’t who I was expecting when I saw the name Clarisse Winthrop.”


Eryn froze for a second at the mention of her grandmother. It was still surreal to think of her in the past tense, but she took a deep breath and pasted as bright a smile as she could muster onto her lips. “That’s probably because my name isn’t Clarisse Winthrop. I’m Eryn Lancaster. Clarisse was my grandmother. This place belonged to her before she passed on.”


The minuscule widening of his eyes was the only indication that he was surprised by the information she had just shared. Then his face took on a look of genuine sympathy, compassion shining in the depth of his lovely eyes. “Well, Ms. Lancaster, please forgive my assumption. And I’m very sorry for your loss. Were you two very close?” he asked.


She should probably have been taken aback by the frank question, but somehow, it didn’t strike her as the least bit odd. Her lips curled in a sad smile and she turned away from him, not trusting herself to be strong in the face of the compassion she saw in his eyes. “Yes, actually. She was my only family. I lost my parents a long time ago.” She heaved in a huge breath in an effort to shake off the morose feeling that had enveloped her. “Anyway, Clarisse lived a full, happy life, so mourning for her would be pointless. Why don’t we get on with that tour you came for?”


He gave a rueful smile, acknowledging her wish to change the subject with a brisk nod. “Of course. Lead the way,” he told her.




Adult Excerpt: 




Instantly, his hands found her drenched pussy and began to caress her. Then he was leaning down, his head settling between her spread legs and his mouth finding her hot sex. She quivered and moaned as his tongue swiped along the swollen slit of her opening, delving into her as it passed back and forth.


“Lift your blouse and fondle your breasts,” he commanded, easing his mouth off her pussy so he could speak. She quickly did as she was told, pushing her blouse up to expose her generous boobs and taking them into her hands.


“That’s it baby,” he whispered his encouragement. “Squeeze those tits. Make your pussy flood for me.”


She expelled a long, low moan as his mouth returned to her pussy and began the sweet, torturous licking again. She pinched and tweaked her nipples, then rubbed the sensitive tips with her palms. The sensations created by the cool wind wafting across her skin, her smooth palms gliding over her nipples, and Ash’s mouth sucking on her clit were almost unbearable, and soon she was writhing in pleasure on the hard surface of the hood. Her pussy fluttered and pulsed, liquid fire oozing out of the hot hole as Ash’s expert mouth pleasured her sex. She continued to stimulate her breasts with her fingertips, adding to the sensations already overwhelming her nerve endings. Soon Ash was pushing her legs even wider and, sliding his stiffened tongue in and out of her entrance in a maddeningly deep tongue-fucking.


“Damn, Ash! I want more,” she cried, releasing her breasts to thrust her fingers into his hair, not caring two hoots anymore who might hear or see her. “Please, baby, I need your cock.”


He didn’t hesitate to grant her wish, pulling back to gently drag her off the car by her legs as soon as he heard her desperate plea. “Turn around and bend over,” he told her, unsnapping his jeans as he waited for her to obey his command.


Her skirt still bunched up around her waist, she bent forward until the tips of her breasts touched the cool metal of the car. She gasped when she felt Ash spreading her legs wider to accommodate him between them and then his heavy cock was at her entrance, pressing forward to ease inside her body. She groaned as he slid into her slickness, his shaft stretching her pussy, causing a twinge of discomfort to the still-slightly-sore tissues.


“Oh God, yes!” she cried, loving the feeling of being stretched to capacity, completely filled with his massive cock.


“Feels good, huh?” he asked, his voice a breathless groan, as if he was barely hanging onto his control. “So goddamn good!”





Please also check out the first book in The White Witch's Legacy: 



The White Witch’s Legacy 1: Raven:


When Xander Kane meets a delectable exotic dancer in a bar, he is instantly drawn to her striking beauty. He knows he has to have her, but when he finally convinces her to let him take her home, she disappears without a trace after they share an electrifying night together. He never thought he would see her again, but when fate takes her right back to his doorstep he is intent on making her pay for running out on him like she did. But Raven is not what she seems, and the secrets she hides, coupled with his own dark skeletons, threatens to destroy any hope that Xander harbored for them.
Raven embarks on a perilous journey to protect her mother’s legacy and finds herself fighting for her life at every turn. When she meets Xander Kane, he is everything she wants in a man and everything she cannot afford to let herself have right now. Will they be able to overcome the obstacles that confront them at every turn and find their way to love?


A Siren Erotic Romance


Excerpts:



“Myra, hurry up, girl. I need you up here before the nightfall,” she said, and Myra sighed again. It was already getting dark outside so, with slumped shoulders, she made her way up the flight of rickety stairs, fully expecting a dinner of liver and onions with boiled potatoes to be waiting on her upstairs along with a game of cards.


The scene that met her as she pushed the door open and entered the apartment, however, made her freeze in the doorway, her jaw hitting the wooden floor in shock. Hazel had pushed away all the furniture to leave a wide space in the center or the living area. She had used chalk to draw an enormous star in the middle of the floor, on each point of which there was a lit candle, the flame flickering in the slight breeze that entered through the half-opened window. There were bottles of oils and essence placed on the ground beside the peculiar drawing on the floor, and a black book lay inside it. The salt-and-pepper-haired woman was busy walking around the shape and sprinkling some sort of liquid methodically onto the floor. When she noticed Myra standing dumbfounded in the doorway, she quickly put down the container she was holding and beckoned for the girl to join her where she stood. “Come girl, we don’t have time to waste! The time has come for you to meet your destiny.”


“Aunt Hazel, what is all this?” Myra asked when her wits returned to her. She took several tentative steps forward, wondering if the old woman had finally lost it after all. “I thought we were going to watch The Sound of Music again and then play cards.”


“It is your time, dear girl. Today is the day. This is what I have been preparing you for, for all these years. Come! Take your place now, it will soon begin.”


“Take my place? Where exactly is my place, aunt?” she queried cautiously, her feet still firmly rooted to the spot where she had stopped.


“You are the eldest, Myra, the first. It is you who must bear the Mark first. It will begin with you.”


As much as Hazel’s words confused the heck out of her, Myra didn’t bother to question her any further. She knew her aunt would only keep speaking in riddles so the sooner she did as she was told, the better it would be for her. Hesitantly, she walked over to where the old woman stood, and upon her instructions, she stepped over the outline of the star and went to stand in its center. Immediately, there was a whiplash of lightning, followed by a horrific roar of thunder, causing Myra to jump in fright. Where the hell had that come from? It had been a bright, clear day, no sign of rainclouds anywhere. Suddenly, all coherent thought fled her mind as a searing pain gripped the back of her neck. It felt as if someone was carving her skin with an extremely sharp object, or branding her with a hot pole. A tortured cry tore from her lips and she fell to her knees, her arms flying to the point of the pain as if she could make it stop by wiping it away.


“Yes, it has begun,” Hazel’s voice noted solemnly. She hobbled closer to where Myra knelt, clutching the back of her neck. “Let go, Myra. Accept your mark. Accept your true powers.”


Then the wind began howling outside, rushing in through the open window with the strength of a mid-summer Castallantran hurricane, so powerful that it whipped Myra’s hair about her face and roared loudly in her ears. In the midst of all this, the candles didn’t only remain lit, but they seemed to be burning even brighter still. Staring at them in shock, Myra suddenly noticed that inside each flame, there was the face of a different woman staring back at her. She gasped and made to jump to her feet, but Hazel’s hand on her shoulder restrained her.


 “Do not fear, my child, no harm will come to you,” the woman reassured her, and reluctantly Myra remained kneeling as the faces in the candles’ flames began to chant together. The words were in a language Myra had never heard before. There was no way for her to understand what they meant, but somehow, she could tell exactly what they were saying.


One of three, witches that be, we grant you this day, the power to see. Strength, wisdom, and courage be yours, to find the spell caster and the other that cures.


Then, just as suddenly as it started, the howling wind stopped. The pain at the base of Myra’s neck subsided just as the flames from the candles went out simultaneously, bringing an end to the mysterious chanting, and the apartment was once again as quiet as it always was. Myra jumped to her feet, head reeling with consternation as she turned to face Hazel. The old woman just smiled and nodded before bending to retrieve the black book from the floor. When she straightened again, she handed it to Myra and then pulled her in for a tight hug. “Welcome to the sisterhood, Myra,” she whispered affectionately. “I know this is overwhelming, but I tried to prepare you the best way I could.”


Myra pulled away to look suspiciously at her eccentric aunt, her eyes darting down to the book in her hand, then back to Hazel’s face. “Aunt Hazel,” she began, her voice quivering slightly. “What just happened?”


“You finally joined the family, my dear,” her aunt replied, smiling gleefully. “You now possess one third of the powers of the Great White Witch of Castallantra.”


Myra promptly fainted.


Adult Excerpt


“Don’t come.” Xander’s voice was like a battering ram slamming into her head, interrupting the intoxicating sexual high she had been experiencing.


“No!” she screamed when his lips left her sex, his head moving from between her legs.


He chuckled softly, gently easing her legs off his shoulders and rising to his feet. “I say when, beautiful, never forget that. You come when I tell you to, only when I tell you to.”


She had to bite her tongue to quell the annoyance that welled in her stomach at his words. Who the fuck did he think he was? She wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. She wanted to knee him in the groin and get the hell out of there. But when he took her hand and pulled her off the sofa, she couldn’t find the will to even resist for a moment. She was desperate for him, desperate for the pleasure she knew he could give her. Moisture seeped between her thighs when she noticed the lustful animal ferocity in his sea-blue eyes and her anticipation returned with full force. Oh God, maybe she was a whore after all!


He spun her around so that the fronts of her thighs were touching the arm of the sofa. He ran his hand over her shoulders and down her arms, reaching around to cup her breasts, as he used his body to push her forward. She was now fully bent over the sofa arm, ass held high, head lying on the soft cushions. She whimpered when one of his hands trailed a heated path along her spine to finally splay at her waist and hold her in place. His other hand delved between her thighs, easing the thong fully to the side as he sank two long, thick fingers into her body with exquisite gentleness.


“So eager, so fucking wet,” he whispered as he withdrew his fingers to fondle her clit before sinking them into her heat again. Myra couldn’t stop herself from gyrating on his hand. Her pussy clenched and gushed reflexively, loving the feel of his fingers inside her sex, wanting even more still.


“Please…please, I-I’m so...God, don’t make me beg.” Hot tears stung the back of her eyes when she heard the desperate, pathetic words that had just been uttered from her lips. How did he do this to her? How did he reduce her to nothing more than want and need without even trying?


“You don’t need to beg, beautiful, at least not tonight. Tonight I’ll freely give you what you desire, all that you desire.” He pulled back then, leaving her momentarily to quickly sheath himself with a condom. Then he was plunging into her, his powerful cock forcing its way into her tight channel, stretching her almost painful. A loud gasp escaped Myra when she felt him sinking into her. God, she’d forgotten how big he was. Jesus, he was so damn huge! She gripped the sofa for support as he filled her to capacity, inch by glorious inch.


“Christ, you feel good. So fucking good around my cock,” he rasped, his voice shaking with unleashed lust. He pulled back, sliding his cock completely out of her. She glanced over her shoulder wildly, afraid he would stop. Did he plan to just leave her hungry and desperate like this, to punish her? God, she wouldn’t survive it.


“Don’t go! Xander, please, I—”


“Shhh,” he said, and she watched as he held his magnificent cock in one hand and slowly rubbed it against her moist slit, teasing her until she was wiggling against him, pressing back to try and force him to enter her again. Then suddenly, he was at her entrance again, his thick member sliding into her like it was made to be there. She cried out as he began to fuck her steadily, pulling back and pushing in, finding a delicious rhythm that made her pussy clench and flutter.


“Yes…Jesus, yes!” she cried, curling her fingers into the cushion. Xander grabbed her hips and continued to fuck her at an almost leisurely pace, pumping into her with slow, torturous thrusts. Myra worked her hips, pushing back on him to try and get him deeper into her body.


“That’s it, beautiful, fuck me back.”






                        http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00NVENDS8




Author Info:


Kelsie Belle wears many hats – wife, mother and teacher are just a few but the erotic romance writer hat is by far her favorite. Kelsie is wildly gregarious by nature. She considers herself ‘forever 21’ and enjoys reading contemporary romance, Science fiction and fantasy, listening to music and dancing like there’s no tomorrow. A caffeine addict that lives life from one coffee mug to the next, she’s always on the go, ready and waiting for the next adventure.


She has been a storyteller for as long as she can remember, her characters live inside her overactive mind and a thousand stories come to life in her head every day. This novel is the first in her three book paranormal series The White Witch’s Legacy. It promises to be an exciting trip into her wild imagination and she hopes her readers will enjoy the experience of taking a ride outside the ordinary with her.


Author Links:


Twitter: @mskelsiebelle






Email: kelsie.belle@yahoo.com



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