2013-05-21

Ashes of the Day

I'm so excited Ashes of the Day is finally seeing the light of day, so to speak! This book feels long overdue to me, mostly because several of the scenes that appear in this book were actually written for book two, Old Sins, Long Shadows.

You see, back in the day, I really thought this series was going to be a trilogy. Guess that shows how good I am at estimating things like book-length and word count. It also kind of explains how some of my Oberon books grew to such gargantuan lengths. Once the first book in this series (In the Dark) was written, I spent quite a few months struggling to fit the rest of the action into two volumes. And then into three volumes. Four volumes? Five volumes?

Screw it. Right now, I'm looking at a seven book series. Assuming I can keep my word count down to a reasonable number.

Anyway, to celebrate this release, I'm giving away cookies! If you read the book, you'll understand why this is an awesomely perfect prize.



And now, how about an excerpt? Here's one of those previously-missing scenes I mentioned above. Enjoy!


Night had fallen. The vampires were waking up. In the small efficiency apartment located over the estate’s garage, Julie Fischer’s eyes blinked open. She sucked in a quick breath and glanced around, surprised to find herself sprawled on the floor. Had there been an earthquake? Or had something else knocked her out of bed and startled her from sleep?
Whatever the cause, she was grateful for it. Her dreams had been so far from pleasant, she was glad for any excuse to escape them. An instant later, however, the dreams were all but forgotten. Somewhere close at hand, the anxious throbbing of a human heart begged for her attention.
Come and take me… Come and take me… Come and take me…
Fangs unsheathed, Julie went into a crouch and surveyed the room. The darkness aided her vision, which was always sharper by night, and she quickly oriented on the sound. There. Brennan stood just out of reach on the far side of the bed. Tousle-haired and naked, he had the look of a man who’d just had a good fright. Disappointment settled in Julie’s heart, fueled by an uneasy feeling of déjà vu. They’d been here and done this before. This was not the first time she’d seen that look on his face. This was not the first time she’d scared him.
It took her a moment to dial down her hunger the necessary notch or two, to keep it from showing too obviously on her face. While she waited, she licked her lips and peered at him curiously. He looked good—no surprise there—tall and dark with bright blue eyes and a day’s worth of stubble shadowing his jaw. He looked altogether scrumptious, except for the scowl. That scowl was all wrong. Julie cleared her throat. “Something bothering you, Bren?”
The scowl deepened. “Why don’t you tell me?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Julie asked as she picked herself up from the floor.
Brennan took a quick step back, his eyes never leaving her face, his expression shifting from annoyed back to fearful. “N-nothing. Never mind.”
“Nothing” it certainly was not. The telltale patter of his racing heart gave that away, but Julie decided to let the lie pass. She slid back into bed and waited for him to continue.
It took a moment. Finally, Brennan heaved a deep sigh and shoved his hands through his hair. “I guess, maybe… You musta been dreaming again or something, huh?”
Julie nodded. “Just one of my nightmares,” she lied. “I can never remember what they’re even about.” Oh, if only that were true! “But, never mind about that. Why don’t you come back over here now?” She shot Brennan an inviting smile and patted the bed beside her. “You still have some time before work, don’t you?” They both knew he did.
There was more than enough time for a quick snack or even a not-so-quick tumble between the sheets. The two urges were so closely aligned Julie occasionally found it hard to keep them separate, especially at times like these, with the scent of Brennan’s fear tingeing the atmosphere. It was an atavistic response, or so her uncle Damian had explained, a result of her combined human-vampire heritage.
Hunger and reproduction were no more than two sides of the same survival coin, inextricably intertwined. Both were thwarted when Brennan shook his head. “Nah, no sense in that. I’m up now, might as well get an early start to the day. I’m just gonna go grab a quick shower.”
But I’m hungry. Disappointed, Julie watched as he backed up another couple of steps, pausing only to snag his clothes from on top of his dresser before continuing his retreat. “Brennan…” Don’t make me force you to come back here. Don’t make me compel you to give me what I want.
She knew she could do it. She was pretty sure he knew it too. The real question was this: Would she ever? She’d never acted that way with him up until now and she certainly didn’t want to start. It was not who she was. It was not who they were. Or so she’d always thought. Until Brennan vanished into the bathroom and Julie heard the unmistakable snick of the lock.
Suddenly, she was a whole lot less sure. She let out an angry snarl. Still hungryThen she picked up Brennan’s pillow and hurled it at the bathroom door in a fit of hurt and frustration.
Maybe she’d only been fooling herself. Maybe “they” were already not who she thought they were. Maybe they never had been.
*****

Children of Night, Book 4

New Year’s Eve, 1999. The world is braced for Y2K, but that’s not the only ticking time bomb in Conrad’s life. Damian wouldn’t be the first vampire to find a way to die, but Conrad is determined he will not be one of them.

Present day. Damian struggles to trust that fate could possibly be kind enough to give him a love as perfect as Conrad’s. Conrad balances on the keen edge of his own fear that one more slip of his formidable control could drive his lover away—permanently. 

Julie learns the hard way it’s not just interspecies relationships that seldom work out. Even between vampires, love is not a smooth course.

Meanwhile, intrigue and conflict within the nest continue to grow, fueled in no small part by Georgia’s slipping hold on a deadly secret. Marc works to consolidate his position as leader of the ferals—and discovers that being a walking anomaly has certain advantages. Including some that are totally unexpected.

Product Warnings
Contains more love triangles, more power struggles, more tears and teeth gnashing, and even more graphic scenes of manlove between moody, domestically inclined vampires than in previous editions. Definitely not recommended for anyone suffering from ALSSD (Auld Lang Syne Sensitivity Disorder) or with aversions to ballrooms, evening clothes, sarcasm, or close-quarter stiletto combat. 

2013-05-14

Sinful Sirens Blog Hop

Ashes of the Day, the fourth book in the Children of Night series, releases on May 21. As usual, life among the Fisher-Quintano vampires keeps getting a little more interesting. I think everyone's been wondering whether Conrad and Damian will ever manage to figure out where they stand with one another. I don't want to give too much away, but here's a sneak peek of at some of what the surly duo will be getting up to this time around. 

This is a scene that had to be cut out of book three (Now Comes the Night) due to length..

Damian clasped his hands around Conrad’s head and shifted closer until their lips met in a fierce kiss. A surprisingly helpless-sounding groan rumbled in Conrad’s throat. Damian reveled in it. The taste and the feel of Conrad’s mouth on his was so perfect, so familiar, so absolutely right. As was the sense of peace he felt when Conrad’s arms tightened around him.
There had been times, especially recently, when he’d felt fear while in Conrad’s embrace, times when Conrad’s enormous strength, and the realization of how much pain he could cause, had left Damian daunted and desperate to hide it. This was not one of those times. He felt cherished tonight. Loved. Safe.
Heat flared as Conrad’s hands roamed over Damian’s back, exploring every inch with a touch that was at once both possessive and needy. Fingers pressed harder into Damian’s flesh. If he’d been human, they might have left bruises. All they left him with now, however, was the stark realization that he was dressed in nothing but a thin silk robe. Even that seemed too much of a barrier. Damian peeled his mouth away from Conrad’s, pulling away only far enough to deliver a series of small bites—lower lip, chin, jaw, ear, neck.
“Damian.” Conrad’s voice shook as he breathed his name, making it less an order this time than a plea for him to continue.
Damian’s legs shook too, as he struggled to stay upright to not fall immediately to his knees as that voice, that sinful voice, worked its usual magic on him. Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself away. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” he complained as he extricated himself from Conrad’s arms.
A frown etched itself across Conrad’s brow. Growling impatiently, he tore off his shirt and flung it away. “Better?”
The sight of Conrad’s rugged chest and arms and shoulders, the strong muscles of his abdomen with the golden dusting of hair trailing over it to disappear into the waistband of his pants, caused Damian’s mouth to water. He shrugged, deliberately nonchalant. “It’s a start.” Then he did sink to his knees, grateful for the thick, velvety pile of the Kashan carpet that cushioned the impact.
The carpet had been billed as an antique, originally intended to grace the palace of some nameless shah or maharajah. Damian had picked the carpet out himself when he’d redecorated Conrad’s study shortly after they’d first taken up residence here. At the time, he’d been thinking only of making himself indispensable to Conrad, expressing his gratitude for having been brought here. And perhaps giving himself an innocent-seeming excuse for spending as much time as he could in Conrad’s private quarters.
The idea that he might someday be welcomed here for reasons that had nothing to do with housekeeping, that he might someday be in a position to put this carpet, and some of the other furnishings perhaps, to such very good use, hadn’t so much as crossed his mind. Back then, he’d seen no reason to even hope he and Conrad would ever be intimate again.
Leaning in, Damian lavished Conrad’s abdomen with kisses and gentle bites, then coasted his tongue along the hard ridges of muscles.
“Damian.” Conrad murmured his name again, partially in protest this time. As Damian set to work undoing the fastening of Conrad’s pants, Conrad’s fingers speared into Damian’s hair. Did he mean to pull him away, or press him closer? Damian wasn’t sure. He suspected Conrad wasn’t certain either.
Damian’s fingers stilled. Fighting against the hold on his hair, he pressed his face against the front of Conrad’s pants. “Please, querido,” he breathed softly, taking a moment to run his open mouth over the thick bulge of flesh that tented the soft linen, to breathe in the musky heat. “Please let me.”


Only blood can break your heart.

Children of Night, Book 4

New Year’s Eve, 1999. The world is braced for Y2K, but that’s not the only ticking time bomb in Conrad’s life. Damian wouldn’t be the first vampire to find a way to die, but Conrad is determined he will not be one of them.

Present day. Damian struggles to trust that fate could possibly be kind enough to give him a love as perfect as Conrad’s. Conrad balances on the keen edge of his own fear that one more slip of his formidable control could drive his lover away—permanently. 

Julie learns the hard way it’s not just interspecies relationships that seldom work out. Even between vampires, love is not a smooth course.

Meanwhile, intrigue and conflict within the nest continue to grow, fueled in no small part by Georgia’s slipping hold on a deadly secret. Marc works to consolidate his position as leader of the ferals—and discovers that being a walking anomaly has certain advantages. Including some that are totally unexpected.

Product Warnings
Contains more love triangles, more power struggles, more tears and teeth gnashing, and even more graphic scenes of manlove between moody, domestically inclined vampires than in previous editions. Definitely not recommended for anyone suffering from ALSSD (Auld Lang Syne Sensitivity Disorder) or with aversions to ballrooms, evening clothes, sarcasm, or close-quarter stiletto combat. 



This is an International Giveaway