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Teresa Noelle Roberts Talks about Cougar’s Courage, Book 3 of the Duals and Donovans series

Thanks for hosting me, KD Grace. I’m here today to celebrate the release of Cougar’s Courage, which is book 3 in the Duals and Donovans: The Different series of erotic paranormal romance.

Cougar's CourageBefore I forget, there’s a contest going on. Comment here or at my website for a chance to win an e-book of Cougar’s Courage and an e-book (or print copy if you’re in the US) of Lions’ Pride, the first book in the series. Comment each place for multiple entries. You can even go back to other places I visited on my blog tour! I’ll be choosing a winner on November 20.

Like the other books in this series, Cougar’s Courage has some dark content. My villains are definitely vile, in a murdering, baby kidnapping, inciting-others-to-violence way, and they use kind of magic that enslaves others to their will. Cara has major psychological scars even before the on-screen ugliness begins. Her fiancé was recently murdered, her father drank himself to death, and as far as she knows, her mother was mentally ill and committed suicide. (Turns out the story was even more complicated, though the tragic ending was the same.)

With that kind of storyline and that kind of heroine, I needed the right hero. Shapeshifting cougar shaman Jack Long-Claw is brash, arrogant, and given to humor at seemingly inappropriate times. But he’s a perfect magical mentor for the confused Cara, and eventually the perfect lover, in part because he can help her find light—and light-heartedness—within  her darkness. And despite his occasional obnoxiousness, he’s a good guy. When they’re attacked by enemies during an early lesson, he wants to make sure she’s really okay.

Of course, maybe tucking her into bed himself was asking for trouble…

 

Jack’s face contorted and he turned aside, racked with coughing. Suddenly he jumped up, ran to the door, opened it on an icy blast of air and, as far as Cara could tell, threw up.

Concerned, she rose from the bed. As soon as she stood, a wave of dizziness struck. She sat down abruptly and called out, “You okay?”

“Hairball,” he said when he could talk again.

“Seriously?” It hadn’t taken too long to figure out Jack was a tease, and despite, or even because of, the dark mood, she wouldn’t put it past him to make up something absurd.

“Seriously. Shifted too soon after grooming. I felt dirty after that fight. Still do, in fact.”

“Me too,” she admitted. “I didn’t even touch those things, but I could use a bath.”

“Me too, even after grooming. Of course we might have to share. Heating up water’s a lot of work this time of year.” He leaned closer.

He’d dropped the blanket when he bolted for the door. Technically, he was dressed—at least, all the most interesting bits were covered—but the shredded jeans and exploded shirt exposed a lot of velvety bronze skin and sculpted muscle.

Cara tried to look away.

He gently but firmly pushed her face back toward him. “If you want to stare, stare. Lesson number two: denying harmless impulses makes good chaos turn bad.”

“The trick is figuring out which impulses are harmless.”

His hand was burning her face. She’d have a print of Jack’s hand on her jaw before long, from the heat of his touch.

She moved his hand away with her own, the one where she still wore her engagement ring. She tried to focus on the ring. Phil had been dead less than six months. Her body might be ready to jump into something, but it was too soon. Wasn’t it?

The contact surged through her like a jolt of electricity—a cliché, but it seemed appropriate. Every cell in Cara’s body went on alert. She heard distant music. Not angels singing, more like the bom-chicka-bom-bom soundtrack of a vintage porn movie, but it fit the erotic promise in that simple touch that, she suspected, hadn’t been intended to convey more than generic, instinctive flirting.

Moisture gushed between her legs. Her nipples perked painfully.

Her willpower and morals were out drinking whisky until their panties melted, and the pale memory of a dead man looked at the big, handsome, vividly alive man in her company and decided to join willpower and morals at the bar.

 

Series blurb: Welcome to an America where the non-human Different and magically gifted humans live among ordinary people. Witches are both feared and honored, but shape-shifting Duals are treated as second-class citizens. The Agency, a government agency that’s supposed to monitor illegal uses of magic and Different abilities, has developed its own dangerous agenda. But when Duals and witches join forces, the Agency and other bad guys aren’t going to know what hit them.

And neither are the witches and Duals. Witch magic grows from the positive energy of love and sex–and the only thing better than one Dual is two of them! And then there are shamans, who work their chaotic magic to comfort the afflicted and shake up the comfortable. Once shamans get involved, everything gets weirder…and sexier.

 

Blurb: Toronto cop Cara Many-Winters Mackenzie is still reeling from her fiancé’s murder when her orderly life takes a turn toward the weird, complete with voices in her head and phantom bleeding wounds.

This violent awakening is the rise of her Different gift—a chaotic, Bugs-Bunny-on-crack magic that she must learn to control before it destroys her. There’s only one place to get help: her mother’s ancestral village, and a mentor who seems to have stepped straight out of the smoke of her erotic dreams.

Cougar Dual Jack Long-Claw reluctantly agrees to take Cara under his wing, though he’d much rather take the beautiful city girl into his bed. As he guides her through a crash course in shamanic magic, sparks fly—some sexy, some snarky. But when an ancient enemy attacks the village, they must work together to hone a magical weapon against certain destruction.

Common sense tells them it’s a terrible time to fall in love. Their spirit guides have other ideas. And shamans who don’t listen to their spirit guides are dead shamans…

Warning: Hot shape-shifting feline hero. Strong but shell-shocked heroine. Snarky, meddling spirit guides. And lots and lots of sex: angry sex, crazy sex, magical sex, and just plain sexy sex.

Amazon US/ Amazon UK/ Kobo / Barnes & Noble Nook /Samhain

 

Run for Your Love by Annabeth Leong

Run For Your LoveBlurb:

Shotguns seem to be everyone’s favorite accessory for the zombie apocalypse, but Zach Paul believes he can survive without hurting anyone—not even the zombies. An elite-level runner, he plans to speed away from every danger. Then Zach meets a woman he can’t bring himself to leave behind, and staying beside her tests all his principles.

Viola Ortiz fought free of her controlling boyfriend just before the zombies came, but now she believes her macho ex is the only one who can protect her. She sets out to reunite with him, only to encounter Zach instead. The tall, lean runner is everything her ex is not, and Viola is shocked to find he turns her on as no man has before. Viola’s ex, however, isn’t willing to let go of her, and soon it’s clear that other survivors are as dangerous as the zombies.

Zach and Viola can run, but they must find safety before they lose their humanity in the struggle to protect their lives and growing love.

 

Excerpt:

It may not have been too crazy for me to think I could keep clear of the zombies in the Quarantined Area. On the news everyone kept saying these are “slow zombies.” They’re dangerous, diseased, and mostly impervious to pain, but not the sort of terrifyingly speedy hunters that have been popular in movies lately. My plan to run in there was risky, but I like to think not completely doomed. I planned around my talents instead of just deciding I’d somehow figure out how to execute a standing long jump of multiple feet once I found myself staring down at concrete two stories below a rooftop. I trusted the only thing I’ve been able to rely on my whole life—my legs.

What I didn’t take into account were bullets—as in projectiles whizzing past my ears as I booked it down the sidewalk. Why the hell does everyone think the zombie apocalypse gives them a license to act like Rambo? I’m not just talking about what happened once zombies actually appeared in the middle of our city, eating brains, shambling, and whatever else they do. I’m talking about all the years of excitement about zombies—Facebook quizzes predicting whether your relationship would survive an outbreak, the sudden popularity of YouTube videos about parkour, and a pervasive cultural obsession with shotguns. I think people watched zombie movies and decided it would be great for the rule of law to break down to the point that they’d be allowed to solve problems by shooting first and asking questions later.

It’s not the most macho position to take, especially not in the neighborhood where I grew up, but I guess it’s clear by now that I’m a pacifist. Some other guy might respond to the looters by taking cover behind an abandoned building and pulling out his own gun to trade shots. That’s not my style.

Instead, I shouted, “What the hell?” and tried to run faster.

Two days into societal breakdown, street cleanliness had already suffered. Trash bags, newspapers, and other detritus littered the road, and I swear the pavement had more cracks than usual. It took all my concentration not to slip or break my ankle.

I don’t have experience dodging bullets, so I wasn’t sure if I’d be harder to hit if I tried to zig-zag or not. Since I didn’t know, I ducked my head, picked up the pace, and hoped for the best.

The guy with the gun shouted, “Drop the backpack!” Apparently, he thought bullets made good punctuation.

“There’s nothing in it!” I screamed back. Which wasn’t strictly true. I didn’t have any money or valuables, which I assumed was what they were looking for. On the other hand, the backpack had everything I thought I needed to survive in the Quarantined Area, so I didn’t want to give it up.

“Like hell it’s empty!” The guy chasing me squeezed off a few more shots.

The fact that he hadn’t managed to hit me yet confirmed one of the points I’d like to make about guns, which is related to a couple of the things I’ve already ranted about. A lot of people think you can just pick up a gun and go to town. That tells me that most people have never actually held a gun, much less fired one.

I’ve been to the shooting range a number of times with my older brother Dominic, and once, before a birthday party he celebrated one year in Vegas, that included firing machine guns. Before I’m accused of hypocrisy, I’ll add that Dominic spent a long time trying to get into the police academy, and I provided moral support while he studied and trained. Anyway, after several good tries, I learned that if you can hold a gun without your hand trembling uncontrollably, you’re doing well. And it takes training before most people can manage to hit, say, the broad side of a barn.

The looter chasing me might think he was tough, but he’d obviously never gotten the chance to practice with a gun. I promised myself I’d say a prayer of thanks as soon as I got out of range of him and his burly friends. I almost looked forward to the zombies at that point—at least I’d understand their motives.

Someone cried out behind me, and I risked a glance over my shoulder. One guy lay on the pavement clutching his ankle, probably a victim of one of the cracks I’d noticed earlier. Two of the others seized the excuse to quit running, squatting beside him clutching their sides, gasping, panting, and coughing. I allowed myself a satisfied smile. The guy with the gun hadn’t tired yet, but he would, as long as he didn’t manage a lucky shot before I finished putting him through his paces.

I lengthened my strides. It felt good to take my body to its limit, to dig as deeply as I could into the inner reserves I’d built up over the years… Right up until I realized I’d forgotten to keep an eye on the littered road.

My foot tangled in a plastic bag, and I went down hard. It was like something out of kindergarten—bloody knees, bloody palms, and pain that brought stinging tears to my eyes. A bullet hit the asphalt a mere foot away from me.

“Let up, man!” I made my voice as threatening as possible, despite my vulnerable position. “I got nothing!”

“Give me the backpack!”

Adrenaline forced me to my feet. I took a deep breath, preparing to push myself back into a run despite the stiffness already settling into my knees.

That wasn’t to be, because my fall had allowed the big guy catch up with me. He may not have known how to use his gun, but he sure as hell knew how to use his hands. He demonstrated on my trachea as soon as he got hold of me.

I hate to say it, but I froze. I thought about trying to stomp on his foot or something, but I didn’t really expect that to work, and I didn’t want to die a traitor to my own pacifist ideals. I helplessly pondered what to do as he squeezed my neck tighter, and I started to feel chilled and light-headed.

That was the first time I saw her, and considering how little oxygen was reaching my brain at that moment, you can probably understand why I thought she was some sort of apparition. She was beautiful. Sexy? Yes. She had the sort of curves that make a man want to spend long afternoons in bed just tracing the shape of them. Lips to match and ringlets of black hair that I immediately wanted to feel across my bare chest. But she was also beautiful in a holy way—some kind of light in the eyes or glow to the skin that reminded me of pictures of La Virgen. She was dressed all in blue too, which contributed to my impression that she wasn’t entirely of this world—my mother taught me that blue is Mary’s color.

Her small, compact body hurtled into me and my captor with force far beyond what I would have expected from her weight. She screamed that he ought to let me go, and his grip loosened, I think because he was so stunned. Neither of us knew where she had come from or what she had to do with me.

Unfortunately, the deranged looter’s first instinct after letting go of me was to go after her, specifically by hooking a finger through one of the big gold hoop earrings she wore. I stretched my own rules a little and jabbed him in the ribs with my elbow, hoping to distract him enough that my rescuer and I could both escape.

She didn’t have the kind of qualms I did. Out of one pocket, she produced a can of pepper spray and proceeded to administer a healthy dose straight into his eyes. I covered my face in time, but he gave a high-pitched scream and clapped his palms to his cheekbones. The gun hit my foot then the pavement. The woman screamed too, and I wondered if he still had her by the earring.

I dropped to the ground and crawled a few feet away, moving through the pain in my knees and palms. A glance at the woman showed she’d gotten herself free of her opponent’s grip and had grabbed the upper hand by far. She administered a series of precise and painful-looking strikes to his abdomen.

Any second, more of the looters would join this fight. I didn’t feel good about running away when she’d gotten involved in the first place because of me.

Pushing myself to my feet, I went over and grabbed her elbow, wincing when my scrapes contacted her skin. “We have to get out of here,” I told her. “Try to keep up.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t answer me. I took off running, feeling so much adrenaline by then that the pain in my knees didn’t really bother me.

She wasn’t next to me.

I whirled without stopping, in time to see her scoop the looter’s gun off the sidewalk and toss it into a glittery backpack she carried, slung too low to be entirely practical.

I took my own turn rolling my eyes. Just what I needed. Another Rambo wannabe. “Come on!” I shouted.

I have to admit that despite annoying me by going for the gun, she’d impressed me so far. The next thing she did really caught my attention. She grinned at me, as wicked and gleeful as if we’d gone out racing to settle a bet. Then she covered the distance I’d put between us so fast it took me a moment to realize I was being outpaced.

She shot past me and tossed another smile over her shoulder. “You better hurry,” she said, with a Puerto Rican accent and not a trace of effort. “Ahora, chacho. Those guys look mad.”

 

Buy Links:
All Romance eBooks
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Breathless Press

 

Bio:

Annabeth Leong has written romance and erotica of many flavors — dark, kinky, vanilla, straight, lesbian, bi, and menage. Her titles for Breathless Press include the contemporary werewolf erotic romances Not His Territory and Not the Leader of the Pack, and Run for Your Love, a romance set in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. She lives in Providence, Rhode Island, blogs at annabethleong.blogspot.com, and tweets @AnnabethLeong

 

Buy One, Get One Free Offer:

Did you miss Annabeth’s previous titles with Breathless Press? Not to worry. E-mail proof of purchase of Run for Your Love, such as an Amazon receipt, to annabeth dot leong at gmail dot com and let her know your e-book format of choice. Annabeth will buy a copy of her werewolf novella, Not His Territory, for anyone who sends this information before November 12, 2013.

 

Gypsy Witch by Suz deMello

Gypsy WitchThe Sacramento Sheriff’s Department is no place for airy-fairy wimps, and Ben McCullough is the toughest of the tough. He tells himself he’s bedding the luscious Elena Lautari only because she’s a babe, not because she’s a card-carrying member of the Northern California Church of Wicca. Ben thinks she’s a feather away from an arrest for fraud, since she makes a living telling fortunes and making charms for the lovelorn. He can’t see her as a lifelong mate even though she’s more than a match for him in the sack, and losing her is unthinkable.

But Elena is the real deal, a modern witch of much power and even more restraint. When her daughter, Gina, steals her mother’s spell book and uses it to shatter the fabric of existence and release an ancient evil, Elena must put reality back in place—even if she loses Ben in the process. Will Ben and Elena’s fragile love be lost with the revelation of her magic?

Maybe, but there are others ready to heal her battered heart. When Ben’s partner attempts to claim Elena, will Ben move aside or move in?

 

If you like what you read, click below to buy the story and check out the rest of Suzie’s sexy books:

https://www.ellorascave.com/author/suz-demello

*****

Suz deMelloAuthor Bio:

Best-selling, award-winning author Suz deMello, a.k.a Sue Swift, has written over sixteen romance novels in several subgenres, including erotica, comedy, historical, paranormal, mystery and suspense, plus a number of short stories and non-fiction articles on writing. A freelance editor, she’s worked for Total-E-Bound, Ai Press, and Liquid Silver Books. She also takes private clients.

Her books have been favorably reviewed in Publishers Weekly, Kirkus and Booklist, won a contest or two, attained the finals of the RITA and hit several bestseller lists.

A former trial attorney, her passion is world travel. She’s left the US over a dozen times, including lengthy stints working overseas. She’s now writing a vampire tale and planning her next trip.

Find her books at http://www.suzdemello.com

For editing services, email her at suzswift@yahoo.com

Befriend her on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/sueswift

She tweets her reading picks @ReadThis4fun

Her current blog is http://www.fearlessfastpacedfiction.com

 

New Release: Beast in Me – Book 2 of the Divination Falls Trilogy by Sommer Marsden

Beast In MeBlurb:

Weather worker Cameron Bale rolls into Divination Falls after being prompted by Spirit and Brother Lighting. He discovers that the small, hidden town full of shifters and magical types is suffering a series of unsettling events. There’s speculation from the town seers that he could be the answer they’ve been looking for. Cameron’s willing to try and help: he’s got nowhere to go and nothing to lose. His life is simply about loneliness and it turns out that Trace, a grumpy wolf with stunning eyes, knows just what that feels like. Cam finds himself wishing maybe they could be alone … together. Oh yeah, and battle whatever evil it is that still lurks in Divination Falls.

Available from:
Amazon UK
Amazon US

*****

Excerpt:

A dragonfly zipped past and Cam watched it go. What next? Bluebirds and butterflies and singing cartoon woodland animals? It was all too nice, too perfect … Surreal.

‘You OK?’ The voice was deep and dark and full of secrets. That was his first impression.

Cameron jumped, clutched at his pounding chest. Inside his heart was going berserk and he felt a little lightheaded with it.

‘I was. Jesus Christ, you scared me.’

Trace grinned with half his mouth. Somehow that little smirk made Cameron think of the big bad wolf. Made him flash back to that body sprawled, lean and powerful, over a small, lumpy bed. Made him remember one of those huge hands on a powerful, hard cock. He licked his lips.

‘Careful, lightning rider. I can smell your emotions.’ Then the wolf chuckled, bending to tie his work boot.

‘I – I’m sorry I spied on you.’ It was all Cameron could think to say.

Trace shrugged. Cameron watched his big shoulders flex with power. He was stunning with his huge body, big, fat attitude, and purple eyes. Just being so close to him made Cameron feel slow-witted and thick-tongued.

‘It was the most excitement I’ve had in ages,’ the wolf said and started to walk.

Cameron watched him go off, his heart sinking. He wanted the man to take his apology seriously. He also admitted to himself he wanted to be close to the wolf. There was no hope of anything happening between them. There was very little hope of anything happening for Cam with anyone. He’d come to terms with that long ago. But still, he could just be near Trace. Remembering the sight of his body and the sound of his voice just outside Cam’s barricaded bedroom door as he brought himself off.

Wolf at the door, he thought, and then shook it off.

Fifty feet away, Trace stopped, and Cameron felt his spine go rigid, his pulse pick up. The man turned to him and shielded his eyes from a bright beam of sunlight between the thick tree branches. ‘You gonna stand there all day admiring my ass, or are you coming?’

Cameron blinked, feeling a wild urge to laugh but pushing it away. ‘Yes! Right!’ he called, bouncing on his toes like one of those perky, hyper dogs. He blushed, but refused to let himself feel silly or embarrassed. He very much wanted to go along.

He hurried along the path until he was almost even with the wolf. Then Trace turned and continued to walk, Cameron right on his heels.

‘Why are you here?’ Trace asked.

The question stunned Cameron but he swallowed hard and tried to focus enough to answer. ‘Good question. I … work with weather. Lightning to be specific. I guess the best way to put it is I was nudged here.’

‘Like with voltage?’ Trace asked with a gruff laugh.

‘Yeah. Sadly, I do get nudged with voltage.’

The wolf turned those deep purple eyes on Cameron and said, ‘What for? What’s here?’

How did eyes get that colour? Cam wondered. Had he been born with them or was it a shifter thing? He had no idea; all he knew was they were the most amazing eyes he’d ever seen. And they were attached to one of the most amazing bodies he’d ever seen.

Trace cocked his head, giving a half grin. ‘Hello?’

‘Sorry! I was just looking –’ He flushed, caught in the act. ‘Your eyes, they’re amazing.’

That closed the bigger man down. He’d had a nice amused and open expression on his handsome face and that fast, it shut down like someone turning the lights off in an empty house. ‘Thanks. I guess. They’re the product of a very bad infection when I was a kid.’ He turned on his heels and kept walking without further explanation.

Cameron had to force himself to swallow. He had just complimented the first man he’d lusted after in goodness knew how many years on some sort of mutation? Something that clearly upset him when discussed. Good going, dumbass!

Cameron hurried along the patch, ducking reaching branches and praying there was no poison ivy to be found here in Divination Falls. ‘I’m sorry! I didn’t know. And I don’t know what’s here. Or why I am,’ he gasped, finally catching up.

The wolf shrugged. He shot Cameron a sideways glance and said, ‘Why would you know what’s here?’ He stopped fast and Cam found himself almost crying out from the sudden shift in motion. ‘As for why you’re here, how could you not know that?’

‘I never really know until it’s revealed,’ Cameron said. He kept his gaze pinned at Trace’s chin so he wouldn’t get mesmerized by those stunning eyes that clearly upset the custodian.

‘Was it me, maybe?’ Trace asked, his lips twisting into a grin. ‘Was it secretly watching me jack off? Was that your big mission?’ He took a step toward Cameron which forced the lightning rider to step back. Or get crushed against an angry wolf.

‘I’m sorry,’ Cam breathed. ‘It wasn’t my intention and then I couldn’t …’ He shook his head. His skin was tingling and he wondered if he was going to get struck. Or worse yet, if Trace would strike him. ‘You might want to step back,’ he said without thinking.

‘Why is that?’ the wolf asked, taking a step forward. ‘Am I invading your space?’

‘I get it,’ Cam stammered. ‘I invaded your privacy. I’m no better than a pervert. I know! But you could get …’

The wind kicked up. It often did when he was frightened or excited and his blood leapt in his veins and his heart beat fast with arousal. His last lover had been zinged by energy one too many times and when some of his hair had actually caught fire, he’d bailed. Calling Cameron a freak in the process. Cam wasn’t up for either Trace being hurt or thinking him a freak.

‘I might get what? And it’s OK – you invaded my privacy, now give me an excuse to invade yours.’ He pushed his face closer and Cameron caught a flickering of animal shine in the man’s eyes. They turned golden around the very iris and a fast, steady pulse beat at the base of Trace’s neck. When he took Cameron’s wrist in his big hand and squeezed, Cam felt the air rush out of him. His cock pressed eagerly to his jeans and he tried his best to focus on something – anything! – besides the wolf so maybe his hard-on would abate. No such luck because Trace took his warm hand and very briefly cupped the evidence of arousal in Cam’s pants. ‘Looks like you’re still a bit worked up from last night.’

‘You were watching me in wolf form.’

‘I was.’

‘You heard me.’ It wasn’t a question. Very briefly, Cam wished for Trace to put his hand back. To touch him.

‘I did. I also smelled you and tasted you on the wind. Do you know when you come your breath does this shuddery little sigh thing?’

‘No.’

‘Well, it does.’

*****

Bio:

Sommer Marsden’s been called “…one of the top storytellers in the erotica genre” (Violet Blue), “Unapologetic” (Alison Tyler), “…the whirling dervish of erotica” (Craig J. Sorensen),and “Erotica royalty…” (Lucy Felthouse).

Her erotic novels include Restless Spirit, Boys Next Door, Big Bad, Learning to Drown, Wanderlust and the Zombie Exterminator series. Sommer currently writes erotica and erotic romance for Xcite Books, eXcessica, Ellora’s Cave, Pretty Things Press, Resplendence Publishing and Mischief Books. The wine-swigging, dachshund-owning, wannabe runner author writes work that runs the gamut from bondage to zombies to humor.

Sommer’s short works can be found in well over one hundred (and counting) erotic anthologies. Her short stories have also been included numerous adult and romance magazines–both in print and online.

Links:
Blog: http://sommermarsden.blogspot.com
Goodreads: http://goodreads.com/sommer_marsden
Facebook: http://facebook.com/sommermarsden
Twitter: @sommer_marsden
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/sommermarsden

 

Guest Blogger: Deena Remiel

WMS_blogtourANOTHER BRETHREN NOVEL, ELIXXIR, UNLEASHED!

 

Welcome to the FIRST DAY of Elixxir’s Blog Tour! My name is Deena Remiel, and I write paranormal romance and urban fantasy. You’re probably saying, “Who? She writes what?” I live in the US and have friends all over the world who love to read romances that have that extra something special about them we like to call supernatural.

Let me introduce you to my ANGELS. They are not of the fallen variety, rather, they are superheroes. But they are complicated, which makes them all the more appealing. Here’s a bit about who The Brethren Angels are and why they’re here…

As humans we are on a constant mission to discover when IT all began, how we came to be, and why we are here. We must have a purpose to this life, so many of us suggest. Some of us have found grand, solid purposes to our lives, while others continue to ponder, wallowing in the muck and mire of a horrid life thrust upon them without their consent. And so, while many of us live out our days finding love, building families and careers, others not as fortunate become predators, sniffing out any excuse to snuff out another’s purposeful life.

When humans began to segregate themselves this way, into people of goodness and people of evil, the Brethren first appeared on Earth. Their appearance was not one of brilliance, nor was it apocalyptic. There were no meteor showers that day. There was no eclipse of the sun. No major earthquakes or other natural disasters were pointed to, heralding their coming.

They simply manifested.

There was a new awareness of being, of  having hands to touch, a mouth to speak, eyes to see, and ears to hear, all new, independent and tangible features; yet each was dependent on another to absorb information and paint a complete picture of the world around them.

For all Brethren, there was, too, an immediate understanding of their purpose, and an acknowledgement that here was now their home, to protect, to heal, and to fight for.

They had known of each other, the Brethren did. Before manifesting, before becoming individuals here on earth, they had an awareness of each other, working in concert as a collective against Evil. But Evil was still gaining ground and threatening to put a stranglehold on the entire human race. Each one of the Brethren had agreed to this angelic mission and its terms for reasons all their own. And in time, each of their stories shall unfold.

There were nine angels in all, three Protectors, three Warriors, and three Saviors. Each triad had their own powers and orders, and none could cross over without severe penalty, and possible banishment. Protectors were adept at spinning spells, weaving magic, and creating talismans for the safety and protection of the human race. Warriors had brawn and analytical minds for warfare, and used blessed swords as their weapon of choice. And Saviors were meant to heal those with severe injuries and those who held the hand of death far too prematurely. There was just one caveat. They had to be called upon through a desperate plea or a prayer to engage in their angelic duties.

Their mission would span eternity, and it was likely they would see many a war against their foe. Satan had been able to plant his seed deep within the hearts of humans eons ago, and even had time to hijack a wayward Brethren along the way. Evil, it’s a tricky bugger to eradicate, but would be dealt with nonetheless, one demon or possessed human at a time.

 

*TRINITY and RELIC are the first two novels in this series. ELIXXIR is the third. They can be read in any order, so don’t be shy. Even if you haven’t started the series yet, Nathanael’s story is worth the leap.

 

ElixxirHere’s a taste of ELIXXIR:

Callie has secrets, too many to count.

For twenty years she’s been living a lie as Callie Worthington, hiding from the monsters who brutally murdered her parents for possession of the Elixxir of Life. Unsuccessful before, their killers have found her and will stop at nothing to acquire the Elixxir. And see her dead.

Nathanael has a couple of secrets, too. A nasty one in particular blurs the line separating Good from Evil. As an immortal Brethren Warrior, though, he must retrieve the Elixxir before it falls into the wrong hands. Just how he’s going to get it out of Callie’s is the big question.

Tempers flare as Callie and Nathanael reach out to each other with their own hidden agendas. She needs his protection. He needs the Elixxir. Will their fiery passion lead to lasting love, or will their web of intrigue ultimately destroy them both?

Secrets, lies, and love’s loyalties tested. What price for immortality? What price for love?

 

And now for a tasty excerpt from ELIXXIR:

 

The alarm proved to be no friend, come Monday morning. It wouldn’t stop buzzing. Callie picked it up and threw it clear across the room. Before hitting the far wall, it managed to nail a delicate glass figurine, smashing it into a thousand pieces.

“Well, shit.” She got up to get the dustpan and broom, and swept her mess away. She fell back against her bed and ruffled her hair. “All right, sister, you promised yourself you’d change, so here we are at Day One. Get your act together, put some decent clothes on, and paint a smile on your face. Today is the first day of the rest of your life!” She sat up and smiled a cheesy, fake smile at her reflection in the dresser mirror and got ready for work.

She saw things in a whole different light by the time she downed her coffee and ate her English muffin. After tossing her plate and mug in the sink, she did a final check of her face and hair in the foyer mirror, opened the door, and slammed straight into a wall of man.

“Whoa,” said a rich, baritone voice.

“Oh, my God! I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you were….” Her next words were frozen on her tongue as she identified the mammoth creature in front of her.

Kemuel.

Too stunned to move, she looked straight into his jade-colored eyes, momentarily lost in the memory of how they once made her knees turn to jelly. The memory faded quickly, and she smirked as her knees held her steady and strong. Having regained her composure, she saw a huge bouquet of flowers in his hands. Crushed flowers, now.

“Hello, Callie. I—”

Before he could say another word, she backed up and slammed the door in his face.

Leaning against it, she closed her eyes, wishing that she’d simply imagined him, and it was really the guy from the florist down the street. She turned and looked through the peephole. No such luck. Kemuel stood there, all right. What the hell is he doing here? Maybe if I stay in here long enough, he’ll give up and go away. No, be realistic woman. You’re gonna have to throw him out. Just do it.

Slowly, she opened the portal to Hell to find him still standing there in all of his six-foot-four, god-like glory, looking shell-shocked. She hadn’t forgotten how perfection had shined down upon him, kissing his head with pure white strands of hair, and blessed him with a muscular build meant to be scaled by her. She also hadn’t forgotten being left high and dry for nearly six months, either.

 

BUY LINKS:

Amazon UK
Amazon US
Barnes & Noble
All Romance eBooks
Decadent Publishing

 

AUTHOR BIO:

It was the mystique of Arizona’s history and landscape that called to Deena and catapulted her career as an author. When she’s not writing romance novels and poetry in the wee, small hours of the morning or in the deep, dark of night, Deena teaches language arts to middle school students. She currently lives in Gilbert with her husband and two children, but New Jersey will always tug at her heartstrings. She loves connecting with her fans, so find her at deenaremiel.com.

http://www.deenaremiel.com
http://www.facebook.com/DeenaRemielAuthor
http://www.twitter.com/deenaremiel
http://paranormalromantics.blogspot.com

CONTEST:

In a comment below, tell me what you’d say to a Brethren angel if he appeared before you right now. BEST TWO RESPONSES receive a cover poster signed by me! Contest ends on April 13!

 
© 2018 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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