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Some long overdue updates and a surprise!

Happy Summer!

OMG, have I not updated this site since October?! I swear, I’m still here!

I won’t get into too much detail, but there were some issues with my current employer along with plenty of back and forth negotiations regarding my contract. With the backdrop of the pandemic, my parents nearly losing their home in a freak accident, and all the other day-to-day stresses, my focus had to narrow to work and my family. But I’m finally starting to peek my head out from under the rubble and slowly get back to the things I love doing (i.e. writing). I’m so glad COVID-19 cases are decreasing in the US thanks to vaccinations, at least for the time being. It’s good to see a little bit of normalcy and sunshine up here in New England.

Since it’s been so long, I wanted to share the first scene of FURIOUS ANGELS with you all (my newsletter subscribers received the entire first chapter, so make sure you’re signed up to receive more goodies from yours truly)! I’m still hoping to get this book finished by the end of this year, assuming another personal or national disaster doesn’t happen. Fingers crossed, but I hope you enjoy it, because it’s a pretty brutal opening to this crazy dark addition to The Order of the Senary Series.

FURIOUS ANGELS

*Please note, this is opening scene is not edited and is in first draft form.*

The Marine Corps Air Ground Combat Center

Twentynine Palms, California

Fifteen Years Ago

The vampire’s skin was still sizzling as he slid across the floor, halting within inches of Kasen’s bare feet.

The door to the examination room slammed shut, trapping them both inside as Kasen stumbled back a few steps, instinctively raising his fists in a defensive stance. His heart somersaulted in his narrow chest, dread congealing in his gut like tar as he stared at the fallen vampire sprawled out in front of him.

The leech groaned, a terrible, wet gurgle, the whole right side of his face and arm roasted to a crisp. Angry red fault lines split his blackened skin as blood oozed from the crevices like lava. Dressed in a bright orange jumpsuit, the male looked like a prisoner, except this convict bore a wicked pair of fangs.

Kasen swallowed the taste of burnt flesh, resisting the urge to cover his mouth and nose with his sleeve, the stench cloying and tremendous in the confined space. He glanced at the mirrored wall across the room, sensing their eyes on him from the observation deck, even though he couldn’t see them.

They were always there, safe behind their fortress of privilege.

Wireless electrodes stuck to Kasen’s temples and bare upper body, the sticker pads pinching at his skin and hair. All he wore were his gi pants; no socks, no shirt, nothing that could inhibit movement. Sweat popped on his brow and dripped down his spine, his stomach roiling in a sea of acid and bile.

Not again.

Another trial. Another nightmare.

Another day on death row.

“It’s okay, son.” The calm, deep voice of Dr. Robert Cronin resounded in his earpiece, sending a jolt through Kasen’s already primed nervous system. “Remember what we talked about.”

Kasen focused his attention on the pain-ridden vampire, the leech whimpering and trembling like a heroin addict in withdrawal. The vampire was also young and half-naked, maybe a little older than Kasen, but barely legal.

Had he been turned purely for this purpose?

The male dragged his broken body across the sterile floor, crawling toward the door in a futile attempt at escape, leaving smears of blood in his wake. When the leech sidled past the stainless-steel drain at the center of the room, he moaned again, a desperate, defeated sound that made Kasen flinch.

Cronin’s words kept him grounded. “You need to practice. If you don’t learn it in a controlled fashion, it’ll teach you in an uncontrolled fashion. And we don’t want that, do we?”

Kasen didn’t respond, his chest tight, too tight, panic snaking around his throat and wringing the courage out of him. The leech wasn’t tied up. He wasn’t even bound with tungsten chains like they usually were. And none of the Marines were in the room to protect him.

“Don’t worry, we won’t let anything happen to you,” Cronin reassured him, as if the doctor had read his mind—or his stunned expression. “Go on. Pretend he’s one of your brothers.”

Too bad the suggestion wasn’t entirely far-fetched.

The vampire raised his head, face twisted with agony and teeth bared, cringing under the harsh fluorescent lights. He glared at Kasen through the infinite black tunnels of his eye sockets, an endless void that sparked with the slightest gleam of fear.

Afraid of him…the leech was afraid of him?

Adrenaline jacked up Kasen’s heart rate until his breath shallowed and his pulse batted in his throat like a trapped bird. The vampire caught it, eyes flicking to his neck briefly, and the newfound power inside of Kasen triggered.

“That’s it, Kase,” Cronin resonated in his ear with an undeniable note of excitement. The frenzied beeping of the monitors erupted in the background. “Concentrate.”

Kasen reinforced his stance, steeling his spine, clenching his fists so hard the bones of his knuckles practically popped through his alabaster skin. A chill shook him and goosebumps spread over every inch of his body, the air humming with the electric buzz of his otherworldly energy. Just like Cronin had said, the more he used his trait, the better control he’d gained, and he somehow managed not to run screaming from the room.

The vampire choked out a gasp, obsidian eyes widening, while Kasen focused on slowing the energy down, hoping it wouldn’t just burst out of him like last time. He’d passed out back then, much like the first time the power had kindled inside him, and he’d been so embarrassed about the incident he refused to summon it for weeks.

But now he’d become accustomed to the gruesome visages brought before him.

Craving them, even.

His chi amplified, ushering him forward as he closed the distance toward the vampire. The leech was panting now, shaking his head over and over with obvious terror. The male scrabbled away from him like a cockroach, pressing up against the door as if he could disappear through it, and Kasen couldn’t deny the rush of satisfaction coursing in his veins, injecting him with a sense of dominance he’d never felt with his brothers.

Now he was the predator, not the prey whining and bleeding on the floor.

Kasen latched on to the vampire’s leg, gripping the leech’s muscular calf above his ankle. The male yelped, kicked at him, but Kasen hung on and pushed his energy into him.

An awful burning sensation ignited at Kasen’s elbow and swept up his arm, pain branding him as if he’d been the one who’d faced off his brother, Blaze, in the next room. But Kasen never let go as the vampire gawked at him with alarm and something close to wonder.

Then the male stopped fighting altogether.

Starting at the crook of his elbow, the leech’s seeping burns reknitted, the blisters deflating, and his raw skin smoothed as if a flame had never touched him.

Kasen gritted his teeth at the singeing in his own scalp, his every cell alight as he absorbed the burden of the leech’s pain. And like a soothing river of cool water, his chi mended the vampire completely, restoring his enemy to full capacity while Kasen suffered the male’s injuries in exchange for the power surge.

Even then, Kasen had quickly learned that his power—all power—cost a hefty price.

And he’d pay for it dearly.

When the agony finally subsided, Kasen released the male with an unsteady hand and retreated, back-peddling much like the vampire had done earlier. The leech blinked at him, once, twice, the sudden silence between them laden with foreboding. The male assessed his wounds, all of them gone, while Kasen cradled his own arm against his chest, the phantom sensation of being burned alive still reverberating through his bones.

The instant the leech leveled those Hadean eyes at him, Kasen saw it—the fear vanished, the only recognizable remnant of humanity left in him, submerged under the feral sheen of a monster with an opportunity for bloodshed.

And the vampire took it without hesitation.

Launching from the opposite corner in a blur so fast Kasen could hardly process it, the leech tackled him to the floor, all slashing claws and snapping teeth. The air burst from Kasen’s lungs on impact, his back slamming into the tile with his head following suit like a high striker at a carnival. Stars exploded before his eyes as he blindly shoved his forearm under the vampire’s chin in a vain attempt at protecting his own hide. Blows landed from every direction, as if he were battling a gang of monsters and not just a single leech, blood spraying everywhere as the male gashed him in the cheek.

It took a minute for Kasen’s shocked brain to circuit the sound, but he finally made sense of what Cronin was screaming in his ear.

Reverse it!

Reverse it? How could he—

Another brutal jab to the head and a knee to the groin. He could barely think past the pain, but he’d somehow wrapped his hands around the vampire’s throat. The leech hissed and spat, limbs thrashing as Kasen held him at bay, his own fangs sliding into place at the threat to his life.

“Undo it, son! Undo the healing.”

The omnipresent darkness inside him yawned, serrated jaws opening long and wide, a black poison swelling in his veins and pumping through his heart, staining everything in its path. His vision changed, honed to a razor’s edge, pupils dilating much like the rabid creature on top of him, his gums throbbing with the need to kill, kill, kill. The desire consumed him, devoured every last ounce of his civility, eroding him to base instinct as he clapped his hands on either side of the leech’s head and rammed his thumbs into those bottomless sockets.

The vampire shrieked, a sound so horrifying it interred itself into Kasen’s gray matter for him to exhume later when he could regret it.

“No, Kasen,” Cronin, miles away now, “No!

Kasen pinned the leech down now, reversing roles, digging his fingers in until he felt two consecutive pops, and those tunnels overflowed with blood and vitreous. The vampire’s flailing limbs sagged, now swiping at him to stop, but Kasen didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, possessed by a demon he could no longer control. Wrenching the male’s chin up, Kasen plunged his teeth into a muscular throat, sinking his fangs to the hilt, a gush of salted iron hitting the back of his tongue like a tonic. He sucked hard, tearing the leech open, the rush now a torrent of bittersweet ecstasy that left him moaning and burrowing for more.

Before he knew it, Kasen was hauled up and away, sputtering and gasping, drenched in the blood of a monster who’d been no different than himself. He glimpsed the lifeless body on the white floor, surrounded by a jagged halo of crimson, a syrupy stream racing toward that awful drain in the center of the room designed just for that purpose. Strong hands gripped him by his arms and nape, a cold swathe of tungsten carbide cuffing his wrists and ankles.

Now they use chains, he thought almost hysterically, but he didn’t resist them, his belly full and his head lolling to the side as the high took him for a ride.

In the short span of his sixteen years of existence, nothing had ever felt so wrong and so very right.

Cronin’s stern expression swam into view as a hand fisted in Kasen’s hair and jerked his head up. Kasen smacked his lips, licking them obscenely, reveling in the afterglow. Dark brown eyes—human brown eyes—stared back at him behind wire-rimmed glasses, enraged and…sad? Heartbroken? Cronin’s mouth was a hard slash across his pale face, stress lines furrowing his brow and carving into his cheeks. His dark hair was disheveled, like he’d yanked on it a few times, while his long white coat remained pristine. Kasen tamped the impulse to spit blood on him, so he could sully the doctor like himself, like the dead vampire, like the once immaculate floor.

This is all your fault.

Cronin reached out, grasping Kasen’s slick jaw, and he let him. The doctor’s warm thumb parted his bottom lip, then his top, exposing Kasen’s knife-blade fangs. Cronin’s eyes shone too bright, too vivid, like polished walnut, and Kasen’s sinuses stung with shame, his vision filling to the brim with hatred.

“You wanted me to reverse it,” Kasen rasped, still caught between boy and beast. “So I did.”

Hurt stormed over the doctor’s features before he looked away, releasing Kasen, ultimately giving up on him. Kasen’s heart fractured down the middle as he watched his surrogate father’s hopes and dreams circle the drain with the leech’s blood.

“Lock him up in solitary,” Cronin ordered his men, the words landing harder than any physical blow Kasen had endured.

Kasen struggled in the soldiers’ grip, furious at the doctor, at himself, at this fucking life he’d been given.

“You did this to me,” he roared as Cronin turned his back on him, another lost cause, another failure in the doctor’s quest for genetic perfection. “You made me a monster!”

And as Cronin stepped over the vampire’s mutilated corpse, eyeing it with a disappointed grimace, he murmured, “No, son. You did. You always had a choice. And now you don’t.”

Betrayal sliced into Kasen’s chest, sharp and marrow-deep, and from that point forward he knew his life would never be the same again.

START THE SERIES

I’ve been invited to be part of this amazing group of authors with lots of paranormal fun, discussion, and giveaways! Come join the party!

PARANORMAL ROMANCE ROCKSTARS

Until next time…

Hope you enjoyed the opening scene of FURIOUS ANGELS! COMING SOON! 😀

Best,

Linda

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January Updates!

Happy New Year, Loves!

I hope you all had a wonderful new year and a great January so far! ❤

SWEET SACRIFICE on sale for 99 cents!

Sweet Sacrifice Final_505x825Woot! You can now pick up a copy of my standalone archangel paranormal romance for only ninety-nine pennies until Jan 31st! ❤

Heaven is hell without her…

Former Navy SEAL Sebastian “Bash” Lockard died in Afghanistan after leaping on a grenade to save his comrades. Little did he know his act of heroism would grant him a ticket into Heaven’s elite army as one of the few and powerful Archangels. Struggling with his new existence, Bash still retains his human memories, leaving behind a wife he loves with all of his heart. Although he’s forbidden to see her, he can’t resist her lure, or the mortal desires he harbors for her.

As a young widow and nurse, Irene Lockard still mourns her husband two years after his untimely death. His absence is everywhere, and when her best friend weds, she hits an emotional rock bottom. As if summoned from the skies above, Sebastian appears before her, and they share an unforgettable night. But when he once again vanishes, she wonders if she’s truly gone mad with grief.

The only way Sebastian can remain with Irene is if he makes the ultimate sacrifice. But will she overcome her fear of losing him again to another war?

PRAISE FOR SS:

“Bash is the kind of hero readers will fall in love with–he is selfless to a fault, courageous and brave.” – InD’Tale Magazine

“Goodness, this story was amazing! Bash and Irene were insanely hot together and their chemistry, both physically and emotionally was off-the-charts.” – Natalie The Biblioholic

“A riveting paranormal that will latch onto your heart. The pacing swept me off my feet, the characters left me feeling raw and undone, and the writing flows effortlessly while bringing the heat and the heart. – Michaelene, The Librarian’s Corner

EXCERPT:

Bash’s gaze caught on a couple on the dance floor, the sight of her sinking into him like hooks and bringing him to a standstill.

With her dark curls springing over her shoulders, she spun across the hardwood, her pale gray dress flowing around her. Much like in his recent vision of her, she tipped her head back and laughed, beautiful, stunning, her smile as bright as the yellow calla lilies tucked in her hair. She swayed with a man in dress whites, a Marine, another fucking soldier she didn’t belong with. And as the rain of realization became a downpour of comprehension, he remembered the engagement, where Claude proposed to Lucille—at their wedding—right before Bash left for another tour of Afghanistan.

“Bash?” Gabriel stepped in front of him, blocking his view, pale eyes narrowed.

Bash’s hand slammed into Gabriel’s chest, pushing him away as he lurched forward. Gabriel reacted faster, though, snatching his arm and wrenching him back at least four feet. Bash lunged again and the Arc’s hand fisted in his white button-down shirt.

“Don’t,” Gabriel growled, all humor draining from his angular face and setting his expression in stone. “Do not.”

Bash’s heart punched at the angel’s fist, every fiber of his being burning with the urge to run to her, to wrap his arms around her and feel her body against his one more time. Envy, rage, longing, and sadness blasted through him in a toxic tornado of emotion ready to whip this place into oblivion.

He nearly ground his molars into pulp. “Let. Me. Go.”

“You are dead, Sebastian. You’re no longer part of this world. All you’ll do is bring her pain, bring yourself pain. Don’t do this.” Twin streams of air whistled from the Arc’s nostrils as he shook his head. “I should’ve never brought you here.”

Bring him pain? More pain than he’d already endured? No.

No.

BUY LINKS:

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B074KJTJT8/

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B074KJTJT8/

Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B074KJTJT8/

Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/d/B074KJTJT8/

SERIES LINK: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0785S89SQ

SSTeaserIrene

BLACK BULLET is a winner!

black-bulletYou guys! I was definitely not expecting BLACK BULLET to win FIRST place in the 2017 RWA Gayle Wilson Awards of Excellence in Paranormal and Fantasy. I’m so humbled, honored, and thrilled to no end! Thank you so much for your support. ❤ I couldn’t write any of these books without you.

Amazon: mybook.to/blackbullet

BOOK 1, RELEASING THE DEMONS: mybook.to/releasingthedemons

 

Until next time…

Hopefully I’ll have some great news to share with you soon about the third book in the Senary series, VERMILION LIES! Happy reading and stay warm! ❤

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Release Day for SWEET SACRIFICE!

Today is the day, you guys! SWEET SACRIFICE is officially out in the world!

SS is my latest standalone dark paranormal romance and book nine of a multi-author series called The Soul Mate Tree. It’s a story about love, loss, redemption, and well, archangels! I loved writing this book and I truly hope you enjoy reading it. 

What readers are saying…

“Goodness, this story was amazing! Bash and Irene were insanely hot together and their chemistry, both physically and emotionally was off-the-charts.” – Natalie The Biblioholic

“A riveting paranormal that will latch onto your heart. The pacing swept me off my feet, the characters left me feeling raw and undone, and the writing flows effortlessly while bringing the heat and the heart. – Michaelene, The Librarian’s Corner

“The feels y’all, the feels is what you will get, and a lot of it! L.D. Rose will expertly reel you in and make you love the characters that she creates. I seriously love this world.” – Aleen, The Lampshade Reader

HEAVEN IS HELL WITHOUT HER.

Former Navy SEAL Sebastian “Bash” Lockard died in Afghanistan after leaping on a grenade to save his comrades. Little did he know his act of heroism would grant him a ticket into Heaven’s elite army as one of the few and powerful Archangels. Struggling with his new existence, Bash still retains his human memories, leaving behind a wife he loves with all of his heart. Although he’s forbidden to see her, he can’t resist her lure, or the mortal desires he harbors for her.

As a young widow and nurse, Irene Lockard still mourns her husband two years after his untimely death. His absence is everywhere, and when her best friend weds, she hits an emotional rock bottom. As if summoned from the skies above, Sebastian appears before her, and they share an unforgettable night. But when he once again vanishes, she wonders if she’s truly gone mad with grief.

The only way Sebastian can remain with Irene is if he makes the ultimate sacrifice. But will she overcome her fear of losing him again to another war?

AMAZON (FREE on KU):
US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B074KJTJT8/
UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B074KJTJT8/
CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B074KJTJT8/
AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/d/B074KJTJT8/

Add it to your TBR on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35912787-sweet-sacrifice

EXCERPT:

Her eyes snapped open, her vision blanketed by huge white feathers, before a giant wing shoved her back. Her arms flailed as she fell hard on her tailbone, the impact rattling up her spine and clacking her jaw shut.

Pain and awareness ripped into her, the veil of fantasy torn from her eyes as she gawked at the rail in front of her.

She was outside. In the dark. Ready to jump from her hotel balcony.

Her sharp intake of air scraped her ears, her heart kicking against her ribcage as she covered her gaping mouth with her hand. Holy shit. Did I sleepwalk? Was she really about to plummet to her death from fourteen stories high?

And did a huge bird just save her life?

Backpedaling across the concrete, the air cool against her thighs now that she’d nearly torn her dress in half, she hit the glass of the sliding balcony doors. Reaching up with a shaking hand, she clutched the handle and pulled herself haphazardly to her feet, yanking the door open and stumbling inside. She slammed it shut behind her, the glass rattling from the force of the blow as she flipped the lock closed. Retreating farther, she toppled onto the bed, staring at the night outside with growing horror.

She recounted her steps from when she’d arrived at the hotel. The elevator, the housekeeper, entering the room, sitting, crying, falling asleep, the river, the blood, the panic, the tree—

The tree.

Climbing the tree, touching its leaves, remembering . . .

A loud thump hit the balcony outside, muted by the thick glass. Her bleary eyes shot to the figure standing on the ledge and she released a cross between a sob and a shriek, then stifled her mouth with a hand.

Tall, bare-chested, his suit jacket and shirt bunched in his fist as he tossed them aside. Tattoos covered his arms, shoulders, and the base of his neck. Closer now, she discerned the pattern of inked wings, pale muscles rippling, lines and cuts he’d never worn before. His dark hair fell a little longer on top, disheveled from the wind, his face still carved with gorgeous edges, but thinner, wearier. His eyes were black holes, endless, consuming. Infinite.

Sebastian.

His knuckles rapped on the glass, the sound sending a terrified jolt into her nervous system. His eyes bore into hers, cutting through the darkness.

“Reen. Open the door.”

Reen. Her nickname rumbled from his lips, his voice still that resonant timbre she adored. God, some nights she’d pleaded to hear that sound again, just to listen to him speak one last time.

This had to be another dream. He had to be a dream. She was hallucinating.

Christ, had Phillipe spiked her drink?

“Reen.” He grasped the handle, tugged on it, his inked bicep contracting. “I know you see me.”

She couldn’t move, nailed to the bed with fear, paralyzed by disbelief. He pressed both palms flat on the glass, big hands with callused fingers, hands that had memorized every part of her body. He broke eye contact, dipping his head as he murmured, “Please, baby. Let me in.”

As if his plea granted her motor skills, Irene was suddenly on her feet, hurrying across the carpet toward him. She struggled to control her shaking hands, trembles reverberating through her entire body. It took her three tries to flip the latch, and then she backed away, recoiling, afraid of this man who looked so much like her dead lover.

He pulled the slider open in a smooth, fluid movement, the cool ocean breeze escaping into the airless hotel. Setting his sights on her, he stepped over the threshold, his presence filling the room, overwhelming her entirely. When her back hit the main door, the opportunity to flee opened up wide, but she stilled as his scent wafted into her nostrils, a blend of sandalwood and her husband.

Sebastian. Her Sebastian.

The slider closed behind him, the finality of the sound echoing through her bones, and she couldn’t run.

Not from him. Never from him.

An almost strangled sigh escaped him and he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. A gut-wrenching pain glittered in his dark eyes while he drank her in, his gaze skittering over her from head to toe, as if reacquainting himself with his broken disaster of a wife.

Finally, he approached her in the dark, closing the distance between them, and she pressed harder against the door. If he held her, if he so much as touched her, she would be lost to him, squandering any semblance of sanity she’d managed to retain in these awful years without him.

Blistering tears flowed freely down her cheeks as he halted mere inches away, so close, so goddamn close his warmth radiated off his bare chest. He lifted a hand and she flinched, stopping him as if she’d slapped him. The pained expression on his face yanked a wretched sob from her throat, and she just couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe he stood right there in front of her.

The medal, the flag, the decorated casket, the salute . . . had it all been a lie?

His finger brushed her cheek, tentative, soft, waiting for her to strike. When she didn’t, he cupped her face in his hand, his skin still rough and callused, wiping away her tears with his thumb. She leaned into his touch, unable to resist his warmth, and he framed her face with his free hand, staring into her eyes with a need so raw it stole what little breath she had left in her burning lungs.

“My God.” He whispered the words, as if he didn’t have the strength to give them voice. “I’ve missed you.”

BLACK BULLET now available in paperback!

That’s right! I was SO EXCITED to receive my shipment last week! There’s nothing like cradling your book baby in your hands! 

BUY LINKS:

Amazon: mybook.to/blackbullet
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/2vYfUCt

Interested in signed paperback copies of RELEASING THE DEMONS or BLACK BULLET from yours truly? Just fill out the forms below!

RELEASING THE DEMONS: https://goo.gl/forms/wl2lF4WoeGySJH2H2
BLACK BULLET: https://goo.gl/forms/bS409ZHH52ChgSV62

Until next time…

Although I’m sad summer is ending, fall is my absolute favorite season! Firepits, hoodies, cuddling, and of course, Halloween! This creepy girl definitely has some fun stuff planned. 😉 Enjoy the rest of your summer, lovelies!

* * *

Join my reader group on FB, DEVOUR THE NIGHT, for more fun and shenanigans! It’s all about the dark, creepy, and sexy things. 😉

Are you on BookBub? Follow me if you want to be notified about new books and sales on previous books.

Are you a Kindle reader? Click on the yellow Follow button on my Amazon page to be notified about new books.

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SWEET SACRIFICE, now available for preorder!

Release day is almost here, you guys (September 13th)! But you can preorder your copy today, woot! SWEET SACRIFICE is a standalone dark paranormal romance and book nine of a multi-author series called The Soul Mate Tree. Love a dark, broody (archangel) hero willing to do anything for the woman he loves? Then (hopefully) this book is for you! 

An ancient legend spanning eras, continents, and worlds. To some, it’s nothing more than a dream. To others, a pretty fairy tale handed down through the generations.

For those in critical need of their own happy ending, a gift.

Former Navy SEAL Sebastian “Bash” Lockard died in Afghanistan after leaping on a grenade to save his comrades. Little did he know his act of heroism would grant him a ticket into Heaven’s elite army as one of the few and powerful Archangels. Struggling with his new existence, Bash still retains his human memories, leaving behind a wife he loves with all of his heart. Although he’s forbidden to see her, he can’t resist her lure, or the mortal desires he harbors for her.

As a young widow and nurse, Irene Lockard still mourns her husband two years after his untimely death. His absence is everywhere, and when her best friend weds, she hits an emotional rock bottom. As if summoned from the skies above, Sebastian appears before her, and they share an unforgettable night. But when he once again vanishes, she wonders if she’s truly gone mad with grief.

The only way Sebastian can remain with Irene is if he makes the ultimate sacrifice. But will she overcome her fear of losing him again to another war?

AMAZON (FREE on KU):
US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B074KJTJT8/
UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B074KJTJT8/
CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B074KJTJT8/
AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/d/B074KJTJT8/

Add it to your TBR on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35912787-sweet-sacrifice

SNIP-SNIP:
Bash’s gaze caught on a couple on the dance floor, the sight of her sinking into him like hooks and bringing him to a standstill.

With her dark curls springing over her shoulders, she spun across the hardwood, her pale gray dress flowing around her. Much like in his recent vision of her, she tipped her head back and laughed, beautiful, stunning, her smile as bright as the yellow calla lilies tucked in her hair. She swayed with a man in dress whites, a Marine, another fucking soldier she didn’t belong with. And as the rain of realization became a downpour of comprehension, he remembered the engagement, where Claude proposed to Lucille—at theirwedding—right before Bash left for another tour of Afghanistan.

“Bash?” Gabriel stepped in front of him, blocking his view, pale eyes narrowed.

Bash’s hand slammed into Gabriel’s chest, pushing him away as he lurched forward. Gabriel reacted faster, though, snatching his arm and wrenching him back at least four feet. Bash lunged again and the Arc’s hand fisted in his white button-down shirt.

“Don’t,” Gabriel growled, all humor draining from his angular face and setting his expression in stone. “Do not.”

Bash’s heart punched at the angel’s fist, every fiber of his being burning with the urge to run to her, to wrap his arms around her and feel her body against his one more time. Envy, rage, longing, and sadness blasted through him in a toxic tornado of emotion ready to whip this place into oblivion.

He nearly ground his molars into pulp. “Let. Me. Go.”

“You are dead, Sebastian. You’re no longer part of this world. All you’ll do is bring her pain, bring yourself pain. Don’t do this.” Twin streams of air whistled from the Arc’s nostrils as he shook his head. “I should’ve never brought you here.”

Bring him pain? More pain than he’d already endured? No.

No.

P.S. I passed my medical boards!

Yay! I received my results a few weeks ago and what a HUGE relief! I was shaking so hard when I accessed the website, but when I finally logged in and saw that magical word PASSED, I cried (right in the middle of a conference ).

This was literally the hardest test I’ve ever taken (and I’ve taken plenty) and my entire doctoring career pretty much depended on it. I’m just SO HAPPY and I can’t put this feeling into words.

Thank you SO much for sticking with me through this! Now it’s time to get cracking on the next Senary book! 

Until next time…

Have a wonderful rest of your summer!

* * *

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Cover Reveal and Preorder for BLACK BULLET! :D

It’s HERE!!! I’m finally revealing the cover for BLACK BULLET, the second novel in The Order of The Senary Series, and the preorder link is now available on Amazon! WOOT! I’m so excited and I can’t wait to share this book with you all. 😀

Release day is November 9, 2016! If you haven’t subscribed to my newsletter yet, I’ll be running an exclusive giveaway to subscribers on release day. I’m also touring with Magic of Books from Nov 9-16 and will be having another giveaway with them as well. 😀 If you’d like to participate in the tour, check out the sign up sheet HERE.

Without further ado, feast your eyes on Jon and keep on reading for a snippet!

BLACK BULLET

black-bullet_505x825-1-final

(By the amazing Fiona Jayde!)

Fledgling vampire Jonathan Kerr has just met his match.

Not even his past life as a former marine and FBI agent could prepare him for the battle against the monster inside him, struggling to take hold. After an old nemesis of the Senary surfaces in Brooklyn, unleashing chaos and terror in the battered borough, Jon sets out to take him down. Instead, he ends up with far more than he bargained for when he clashes with the beautiful half-vampire hybrid, Lawan Knight.

After escaping near death and suffering unspeakable horror at the hands of vampires, Lawan trusts no one, regardless of species. In between bouts of drunken stupor, her only goal is to exterminate all those who’ve wronged her, including every member of Jon’s vampire bloodline. But Jon’s soulful eyes and quick smile crawls under her skin, transforming her black and white world into a hazy shade of gray.

As the days rapidly grow darker, Jon and Lawan turn to one another, but their inner demons threaten to tear them apart. The only way either of them will survive is if they overcome their greatest fear—love.

PREORDER now at Amazon: https://amzn.com/B01MCWB3GU

Add to your TBR list on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/32716471-black-bullet

EXCERPT:

Jon only had time to take a single breath before a dark boot materialized in front of his face, the heel aiming straight for his throat. He snatched it before it made contact and twisted hard, thrusting it away from him. The limb yielded beneath his grip as his attacker collapsed beside him, metal clattering nearby. He levered to his feet, pulling a KA-BAR from his boot as pain lit up his nerves, setting his teeth on edge. His attacker was already standing, the blade of a gorgeous double-edged Kris sword pointed at his throat.

Holy shit.

His opponent was female, wearing a slim-fitting black battle uniform and carrying enough artillery to outfit a small army. Her jet-black hair was tied in a long braid and a black mask covered the lower half of her face. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes revealed her Asian heritage, her skin the color of caramel. A scabbard stretched across her back, strapped to her chest, along with the M16 she’d used to tear up the warehouse.

Jon took a step back, but she didn’t hesitate, launching at him with the blade. Metal clashed and sparks flew as he parried the long sword’s quicksilver arcs with his dagger. Although she limped from her injured leg, her strikes were hard, fast, and precise, each blow intended to kill. He nearly tripped over the pirate’s body as she backed him against the wall of the refinery, and he ducked as the blade screeched along the brick.

Before Jon straightened, he jabbed the butt of his KA-BAR into her knee and she yelped, stumbling backward. He slashed at her and caught nothing but air as she lurched away from him. She swung the Kris at his head and he raised the KA-BAR to engage and bind the sword. Both of their weapons trembled as their eyes locked on one another across the tangle of deadly metal.

And as her smoldering gaze drilled into him, he smelled it.

Dama de Noche.

The Lady of the Night, a nocturnal blooming flower he’d first smelled years ago in Nepal, when he was a human soldier. The scent was unmistakable, underlying the incense of vampire. The stench of leech didn’t belong to her, but the floral aroma was all her own.

She’s not a vampire.

Stunned by the revelation, Jon wavered, and she quickly took advantage of him. She sidestepped and lunged at him, sinking the blade in his shoulder. He shouted, dropping his KA-BAR as pain erupted from his dominant limb. Moving lightning fast, she yanked the blade out and sliced an arc across his chest. Luckily, she only scored his Kevlar, and as the sword swooped around again, Jon caught it with his gloved hands, silver biting into leather.

“You’re a hybrid,” he ground out. “I’m on your side!”

She pushed hard against him, drawing blood. “Bullshit.” Her voice was a rich contralto, edged with a growl. “You reek of Temhota.”

The Dama drew back and chopped at his belly, but Jon blocked her with his forearms, metal jarring against his bones. Finally, he managed to kick the blade out of her grip and it spun away, clattering to the ground. She somersaulted backward to retrieve it, but Jon caught hold of her braid in mid-air and wrenched on it. She cried out and landed face-first on the pavement, her breath audibly whooshing from her throat.

Jon wound her braid around his hand like a rope and straddled her, pinning her down. He tore the M16 off and tossed it as she writhed beneath him, fighting hard. Yanking her head up, he leaned close to her ear. “I’m not your enemy,” he hissed.

Her already shallow breath quickened and her struggles intensified, her sweet scent pumping from her pores in cloying waves. Panic. Fear. Restraining her like this completely terrified her.

Jon let up, knowing it was a mistake, but the shred of humanity still left in him couldn’t resist. The Dama slammed the crown of her head into his face and his retinas exploded in a staggering palette of reds, whites, and grays. His nose caved in, but not so far as to bury the bony shards into his brain. Blood poured out of him like a leaky faucet as he fell back, propping himself up on the wall of the refinery.

She was on him in an instant, chopping the edge of a flat hand into his trachea before smashing a fist in his ear. She wobbled to her feet as he struggled desperately to breathe—remember Jon, you don’t have to—and she gave him a vicious kick to his solar plexus, doubling him over. The pain was terrific, a cacophony of agony echoing from every corner of his body.

Jesus Christ, she was beating the shit out of him.

The Dama stood there, shaking, the fabric of her fallen mask fluttering to the ground. Jon blinked, trying to clear his blurred vision as she picked up her sword. He stole a glimpse of her face as she flung the mask up with the blade and caught it. A tattoo marked her cheek, the black symbol unmistakable but jagged, as if she’d thrashed during the process.

The same mark he’d painted on his chest lay branded on her face—the emblem of the Temhota.

Jon yanked down the neckline of his shirt, much like he had with the pirate, but this time he wiped at the mark, smearing it. The Dama paused in front of him, eyes narrowed, a gash marring her forehead. Even with the mark of his enemy on her face, she was breathtaking, and he didn’t have much breath left to spare.

“Not real,” he said past swollen lips, lifting trembling fingers stained with both paint and blood. “No mark.”

“But you are a leech.” She pointed the serpentine blade at the hollow of his throat.

He nodded, swallowing iron. “I work with the Senary. I used to . . . I used to be human. I’m not what you think I am.”

“You stink of them.” Her lip curled in a snarl.

He nodded again, every muscle in his body screaming. “Because I’m one of them. Yet I’m not.”

Brilliant. Maybe a few of those bony shards made their way into his brain after all.

She flipped the sword deftly and held it in a two-handed grip, the sin qua non of impending decapitation. Her dark eyes didn’t have the cat-like gleam signature to vampires, but hate and anger bled through them anyway.

“Makes no difference to me.”

Want to catch up on the series before release day? Read the award-winning first novel, RELEASING THE DEMONS: