Carries Book Reviews

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Hungry is the Night
Robin Jeffrey
(The Night Series, #1)
Publication date: August 22nd 2023
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance

The werewolves of the world live in tight knit gangs, or “dens”, for protection from outsiders – and each other. Every major metropolis has one; to belong to a den is to have a family for eternity. However, Grace Holtz, next in line to lead the Seattle den called The Nameless, has had enough of living under the crushing weight of her den’s expectations. Having fled to a small, rural town in southeast Oregon, her goal is to blend in and be as “normal” as possible for the rest of her unnaturally long life.

But Marcus Bowen, a wolf from the UK-based Feóndulf den (and the closest thing Grace has ever had to a lover), has other plans. Reappearing thirty years after their affair came to an abrupt and bloody end, Marcus needs Grace. He needs her to return to Seattle and arrange an audience with Mama, the current leader of The Nameless and Grace’s estranged grandmother. The leader of the Feóndulf and his heir have both been brutally murdered, and Marcus suspects that Grace and Mama are next.

Teaming up to hunt for the killer in the Emerald City, the pair slowly begin to realize their romance may not be as dead as they thought. However, as it becomes clear that the person they’re looking for holds secrets about both their dens, Marcus and Grace must grapple with competing loyalties, conflicting desires, and ultimately decide what matters more: their dens or each other.

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EXCERPT:

The sensation of his lips against mine rippled through me like a shot of whiskey, warming and intoxicating, setting my blood dancing while at the same time making me shiver. When he reciprocated the gesture, when he reached out to hold my cheek with trembling fingers and shifted against my lips without withdrawing, the tight coil of control in my chest unraveled. I took a step forward, my body flush against his, and lifted my hands to grip at Marcus ’shoulders with a possessiveness I barely recognized.

Marcus mimicked my stance, but instead of pulling me closer, he took a step back, breaking the kiss with a small gasp. My eyes flickered open.

While he shook his head, Marcus ’eyes remained closed as he whispered, “Grace, we shouldn’t—”

“Marcus.” His eyes opened wide at the sound of his name. I gave a weak smile and lifted my hand to his face, trailing my thumb across his lower lip. “Don’t be so stupid as to make the same mistake twice.”

He blinked at me once, then twice. The corners of his mouth shot down into a frown and his hands dropped from my shoulders to my hips. He pulled me against his body while quietly whispering, “Ah, sod it, then,” before kissing me hard.

I answered in kind, my hands skittering unmoored across first his jaw, then his shoulders, then his sides, then his chest. I deepened the kiss with a flick of my tongue at his bottom lip, a teasing, tentative request that Marcus answered with unabashed eagerness, opening his mouth to my explorations.

Slowly at first, then in a progressively frantic tumble, I pulled Marcus back into my room toward the bed. I kicked off my shoes as I went, running the tip of my tongue along the top of his palate. He tried desperately to keep pace with me, capturing my lower lip between his teeth and biting down, not too hard, but just hard enough. Still, there was hesitation in his movements. No longer content with the skin available to my hands, I began easing his shirt up and over his body. Marcus tried to register a verbal protest, but it was lost in the crush of our mouths. It wasn’t until I relinquished his lips and began lavishing attention on his neck that he was able to say anything at all.

As soon as his mouth was free of mine, he breathed my name imploringly, caressing my back and shoulders through my thin sweatshirt. “Grace…”

“Don’t worry,” I answered, my words muffled as I pressed my lips against his carotid artery, my wandering hands pushing up under the hem of his T-shirt, fingers dancing over the newly exposed flesh at his side. “I’ll take care of you.”

 

Author Bio:

When Robin Jeffrey isn’t checking out books to students at the academic library where she works, she can be found cranking out punchy flash fiction, lyrical essays, and world-rich romances. Her writing has been published in magazines across the country and around the world. She currently calls the Pacific Northwest of the United States home, where she lives happily with her husband and their out of control comic book collection. She currently resides in the rainy Pacific Northwest. More of her work can be found on her website, RobinJeffreyAuthor.com.

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Title: Cursed at Dawn

Author: Heather Graham

Publisher: MIRA

Publication Date: August 22, 2023

Page Count: 306

About the book:

Dracula lives—and he’s hunting for his bride.

Vampires may not walk among us, but FBI agents Della Hamilton and Mason Carter know real monsters exist. They’ve witnessed firsthand the worst humankind has to offer. They’re still catching their breaths after the apprehension of two such monstrous killers when they’re met with horrific news: Stephan Dante, the self-proclaimed king of the vampires, has escaped from prison, followed only by a trail of blood.

All too familiar with Dante’s cruelty, Della and Mason know the clock is ticking. But as Dante claims more victims, a chilling message arrives. The vampire killer seeks his eternal bride—Della herself. Playing into Dante’s desires might be the only way to stop the carnage once and for all, assuming they can outwit him. Della is confident the agents have the upper hand, but Mason knows every gamble runs the risk of not paying off, and this time, the consequences could be deadly.

Find this book online:

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Excerpt:

One

“I still don’t see how it was possible,” Della said. They had worked so hard, taken such risks, to 

arrest and in- carcerate Stephan Dante, the self-proclaimed “king of the vampires,” that it was 

unimaginable that he had managed to escape while awaiting trial.

They were headed back to the United States, ready to meet with the horrified warden of the jail where Dante had been awaiting trial. They were both exhausted but wired, as they hadn’t slept since they’d heard the news that the man was back on.

Just days after they’d finally caught up with one of his protégés—who had shed the concept of competing in the vampire field to become “king of the Rippers”— they had learned that Stephan Dante had somehow man- aged a miraculous escape. He had killed the doctor who had assumed he was desperately trying to save his life, sent the nurse to intensive care, where she remained, and had killed one guard and seriously wounded an- other on his way out. He’d walked easily into the sunlight, having taken the doctor’s clothing, identification and keys—and therefore, he had simply driven away. The most bizarre thing seemed to be that it was on tape, though Dante had managed—through a tech friend he’d met while incarcerated, Della believed—to create false images of the infirmary while he had carried out his attacks with a scalpel.

They hadn’t been “vampire” assaults and kills.

They had just been murders and attacks that had been expedient. He had his way of killing that he considered unique and special. But he was also a cold-blooded killer who would rid himself of anyone who got in his way by any means necessary.

“Dante continues to carry out the impossible.” Mason Carter, seated at her side in the FBI’s Blackbird plane that was rushing them back to the States, shook his head, staring straight ahead as he spoke. “He manages to befriend every criminal who can do something he wants done or provide something he needs. I’ve never seen a criminal as capable of accruing funds and forged documents in the way that he has managed.” He let out a sigh. “I’ve been conflicted on the death penalty all my life. You execute the wrong man—or woman—and you can’t fix it if you’re later proved wrong. You let a man like Dante live and…others have already paid the price.”

“He never made it to trial, Mason,” Della reminded him. “Mason, this is horrible, but it isn’t on us. And we will—”

“Get him again,” Mason said.

He was still staring straight ahead. She wasn’t worried about Mason as her partner—no inner conflict would interfere with his abilities as an investigator—or as a man to have at her back. He was adept at numerous martial arts, with a knife, and was also a crack shot who could move with incredible dexterity, speed and quiet when necessary. He had blue eyes that could appear as dark as the deep blue sea—or as piercing and cold as shafts of ice. It didn’t hurt that he was a dark-haired man who stood at a good six foot five, but as they all knew, a bullet or an explosive could kill, no matter your size or expertise.

He had told her once that a good agent’s mind was the greatest weapon they could carry.

She just worried about whatever torture he might be putting himself through. He’d been military before the FBI, been responsible for the apprehension of some of the country’s most heinous killers and seen his last partner gunned down before him. He had grown weary of killing and he’d been working solo until he and Della had met on a case in a Louisiana bayou, taking down a serial killer there before becoming the first chosen agents for Blackbird, a unique unit created to help when the very specialized assistance the Krewe of Hunters could give was needed in Europe.

They had worked with local law enforcement from Norway, Scotland, Ireland and France. Their liaison from Interpol, François Bisset, as well as French Detective Jeanne Lapierre, English Detective Inspector Edmund Taylor and Norseman Jon Wilhelm, would be joining them the next day.

Their sixsome had followed Dante, in one way or another, through France, Britain and Norway, then back to the States.

They’d all expected to be here; Adam and Jackson had set up a meeting for the group of them at Quantico, one to debrief and the other for a chance to discuss the future of their new unit—within the Krewe of Hunters.

Della wondered if Jackson and Adam knew things about their team that they didn’t know themselves. They had discovered that Edmund, a striking and formidable-looking man in his thirties, could converse with the dead. As always, very few among the spirit world chose to communicate with the living for their own reasons. But she didn’t know about Wilhelm, François or Jeanne. Law enforcement might often speak about protocol, especially within different countries, but in meeting people one seldom just asked bluntly if their fellows could see the dead.

They were back in the States. But with Stephan Dante on the loose, they could be heading anywhere in the world in the days to come.

“Mason, we can’t second-guess anything,” she said quietly. “We take oaths. And you and I both believe in standing up and honoring our oaths. We follow the law,” she reminded him.

He smiled and turned to her. “Of course. I just…I just thought that we were done worrying about him. And seriously? It was nice being tourists in London. For what? All of three days.”

She grinned back at him. “They were good days, though, right? They had to end because we were due back here anyway. And I talked to Jackson earlier. When we get Dante locked up again, we get a month, he promised.”

“Right. Unless something else happens,” Mason said.

She shook her head. “I know Jackson and Adam.

They’re busy building up Blackbird and in time, we won’t be the only American representatives.”

He nodded, pulling up his tablet. “Not sure if all this is the order in which it occurred, but this is still just… I don’t see how… All right, according to the reports, Dante was bleeding out so badly that it was assumed he wouldn’t make it. He wasn’t shackled to the bed because everyone thought he was all but dead. He caught hold of the scalpel when the doctor and the nurse were urging quick care, ordering blood for transfusions. People ran out of the infirmary, he downed the nurse and then the doctor and stole the doctor’s clothing, wallet and keys. Two guards walked in and he took care of them. He had apparently already gotten someone to somehow get him a fake MD’s identification and all the right certifications to slip into the doctor’s wallet. How the hell did he go from bleeding to death to slashing others and escaping in the blink of an eye?”

“Well, he isn’t a vampire,” Della said flatly. “The problem with Dante is that he doesn’t use force as much as he uses charm and wiles. He is extremely clever, an intelligent man. I believe that he’s one of those people who constantly studies online. And, of course, as we’ve known, he’s great at making friends among the killer elite.”

“Killers, forgers, bank robbers… I doubt if he bothers to befriend those who can’t do anything for him, but to others… I don’t understand. Then again, I still don’t understand how Jim Jones got nearly a thousand people to drink poisoned Kool-Aid. The power of the mind is incredible.”

“Beyond a doubt. We’ve said it before—people believe because they want to believe. They grasp on to concepts and ideas that work for them because they’re down and out, because they’re bitter or because they’re in pain. Some are too smart to be swayed, but I believe that our Mr. Dante recognizes those he can control and those he can’t—and he wastes no time on those who aren’t going to fulfill any of his needs.

“The power of the mind!” Della murmured, continuing. “I spoke with our friend and colleague Special Agent—Dr.—Patrick Law. He warned everyone that Dante might well pull something. They believed that they had him in control, that they had so much security that he couldn’t possibly escape.”

“They tried to save his life,” Mason murmured.

“They’re bound by their oaths, too, Mason. For those in law enforcement, oaths similar to those we took. And for a doctor…”

“I know. I know. The Hippocratic oath,” Mason said.

“No choice,” she reminded him.

“So, of course, we know that he’s out. We will learn more on the particulars of how he did it. But he is out—so his escape isn’t the question.”

Della nodded and looked out the window. They would be landing soon. She rested her head back against the comfort of her chair, wishing they’d managed to sleep.

Smiling grimly, she turned to Mason.

“He has escaped. He escaped in Louisiana and we know that he does love the bayou country, and who doesn’t love New Orleans? So he escaped here, but the main question remains,” she said quietly. “Just where will he strike next?” When a man managed to escape when he was known as high risk, he had to have had help, Mason believed.

While Della headed to the intensive care unit at the hospital to interview the nurse who had a slim chance of surviving the assault, he worked with the warden, a man named Roger Sewell, still in disbelief that such a thing could have happened.

“I’m sure you have already heard the particulars, but I’ll go over them again,” Sewell told him as they walked along the aisle where prisoners spent short incarcerations or awaited trial.

“It started in the cafeteria with the riot. Ridiculous thing, of course. No matter how hard anyone tries, there’s always a pecking order in a facility like this—you wind up with rival gangs within the walls themselves. Someone hit someone else in the face with a spoonful of grits. Then all hell broke out with food flying back and forth, crowd insanity followed, several guards were injured and Stephan Dante was found on the bottom of a pile of men with a blood pool the size of Texas under him. Naturally, we rushed him straight to the infirmary, calling the doctor, warning that the prisoner might exsanguinate within minutes.”

“You found him in a pool of blood,” Mason said. He imagined the scene—and why guards and a smart man might be fooled.

“With a toothbrush shank still in him.”

Warden Sewell was a serious man, known for having handled the facility in his charge with diligence, running a tight ship while recognizing human rights as known in the country and the state. His guards respected him; there had never been such a serious incident before during his tenure. He continued disgustedly with, “Food fights happen. Gang members gang up on a target and break his nose. But this food fight…ridiculous food fight…escalated into disaster.”

“It wasn’t a ridiculous food fight,” Mason told him, pausing along with the warden at the cell where Dante had so recently resided. “It was planned. And that pool of blood didn’t belong to Dante—some of the blood, sure. But you’re going to find that you have one or more other inmates who lost pools of blood in that fight.”

“Wait, you’re trying to tell me that Dante planned a food fight to escape? But he didn’t attack any of the guards, he didn’t—”

“He planned to get to the infirmary,” Mason told him. “Just as he found someone—someone here on a more minor charge—to rig it so that Dante’s assaults on the staff weren’t seen on the cameras. One of your prisoners is a damned good tech guy who breached the system.”

“No. That’s not possible—”

“Warden, I’m not throwing any stones here, trust me. This man has taken all of us in one way or another. But I doubt your guards were all asleep at the wheel. And when the police ran the security tapes, they saw nothing but a nurse moving back and forth across the infirmary. We know that Dante assaulted his caretakers. And the guards who then tried to stop him. And then—caught on camera—he used the dead doctor’s identity and clothing to escape. Oh, yes, Dante was shanked. But he’s a man who made sure that he drew blood without hitting any vital organs—”

“You think that he shanked himself?”

“I do. Or he had a friend hit him in just the right place in just the right way.”

“But the blood—”

“The ‘pool the size of Texas’ belonged to one or more other men. And a forensic crew would find DNA so mixed that it would be worthless. But, trust me, the entire escape was planned from the time the first spoonful of grits went flying,” Mason told him grimly.

“What do you need from me now?” Sewell asked him. “What the hell can I do now to help?”

“Interviews. I need to speak with anyone who was close to or friendly with Dante in any way.”

Sewell suggested, “Start with his cellmate?”

Mason nodded. “Have him brought to an interview room. I’ll observe him a few minutes before going in. What’s the man’s name and what is he in for?”

“Terry Donavan. His third DUI in a month involved a vehicular manslaughter charge.”

“Sounds like an alcoholic and not a cold-blooded killer. Interesting that he was in with Dante.”

“Overcrowding in the system, I’m afraid. Special Agent Patrick Law had suggested that we keep Dante in solitary and we were planning on moving Dante to follow the suggestion.” Sewell paused, wincing and shaking his head. “We were planning to do the right thing—just waiting on the move. We have some hardened folks here, awaiting their days in court. One man is accused of killing his entire family—for the life insurance payouts. Another in here is presumed guilty of five robbery/invasion homicides. Sometimes it’s hard as hell to see the forest for the trees.”

“Gotcha,” Mason assured him.

“Observation here,” Sewell said, stopping by a door. “Entry to the interrogation room just down a few steps.”

“All right. Tell the guards not to shackle the man. I’m going to have to build up some trust—get past whatever blind faith he might have in believing whatever lies Dante might have told him.”

“You think Terry Donavan might be involved? He’s… In my mind, the man is a pathetic waste of what he might have been. In here, he’s polite, agreeable and, so it appears, truly remorseful for what happened. Went through hell when he first came in—in fact, the doctor Dante killed helped get Terry through the worst of withdrawal when he came in here. If the kid—”

“Kid?”

“Sorry. He’s just twenty-three,” Sewell said.

“Right. If he’d had help and embraced it, he wouldn’t be where he is,” Mason said.

Sewell nodded. “Step on in. I’ll get Terry in there,” he said, pointing to the stark interrogation room.

“Would you mind seeing if you can arrange coffee and water for us both? Sounds like he’s the type who just might help if I can reach him.”

Sewell nodded. Mason stepped into the observation room and looked through the glass at the room with its simple table—equipped with attachments for shackles when necessary—and gray walls and flooring. That was it. The table, the walls, the floor. Planned for focus.

A minute later, he saw a guard bringing Terry Donavan in to sit. The man sat. But he wasn’t shackled and after he’d been left a few minutes, he began to pace the floor.

He did look like a kid. Short hair still showing something of a rakish and shaggy appearance, movements nervous, eyes caught in a concerned face as he walked the few feet within the room.

The guard returned with two cups of water and two cups of coffee. That seemed to perplex the young man even further.

Mason waited another few minutes. Then Terry Donavan sat again, looking suspiciously at his cup of coffee before sipping at it, then letting out a sigh as he apparently decided that it hadn’t been laced with any kind of poison.

Mason stepped out of the observation room, nodded to the guard and thanked him, and headed on in, taking the seat across from Terry Donavan.

Donavan looked at him nervously.

“Who are you? Why are you here?”

“My name is Mason Carter,” Mason told him. “Special Agent Mason Carter. And I need your help.”

“You need help—from me?” Donavan asked nervously. He looked around the room as if afraid that someone might be watching him, might see him.

Guards were watching. But Donavan wasn’t afraid of the guards. He was afraid of the possibility that another prisoner might hear him.

Or maybe even Stephan Dante himself.

Mason nodded, leaning toward him, deciding to first use what he knew. “You know that your doctor is dead, right?” he asked quietly.

He saw the young man look down quickly and wince. The doctor had meant something to him. He had helped him.

“That had to be…an accident. I mean—”

“Terry, I know that you were in a cell with Stephan Dante. I know how mesmerizing and hypnotic the man is capable of being.”

“He never hypnotized me!” Donavan protested.

“Dante doesn’t sit you down in a chair and tell you to count backward while concentrating on a point,” Mason told him. “He charms you—the same way a dad might charm his child while telling a bedtime story. He talks and creates a new world. And it’s all right—trust me. Plenty of men and women have fallen for his stories, so well told. And you fell for him, too. If you help me, I can talk to the district attorney. It will help.”

“I never meant to hurt anyone—”

“I believe you. Addiction is a terrible disease. And the doctor who has now given up his life is the man who helped you through the agony and suffering of withdrawal.”

Terry looked down again, not wanting to face him.

“Why?” Mason asked very softly. “Did Dante promise that no one was going to be killed as he planned his escape?”

“If someone died, it was an accident—”

“It’s not an if. People died. And it wasn’t by accident, Terry. Stephan Dante killed the doctor and took his clothing and his wallet and his car to escape. Hard to do that if—”

“He was just going to knock him out. You know. Drugs. It’s an infirmary. They sedate people all the time—I mean, seriously, our infirmary is like a hospital setting!”

“You don’t sedate a man with a scalpel,” Mason said quietly.

Donavan looked down for a long moment, his thumbs moving nervously as his hands lay on the table. He shook his head.

“Terry!” Mason said. “Hey, I can tell. You are not a bad guy. You didn’t want to hurt anyone. Alcoholism is a disease, and it can take a hell of a lot to cure it. The doctor who finally led you on a path to relief—”

“Hey, I’m locked up awaiting trial where they’ll want to put me away forever,” Donavan said bleakly. “Had to get cured in here.”

“But it could have been a cruel cure. In fact, if withdrawal isn’t handled correctly at the level you were drinking, you could have been left to rot and die. But they did things here by the law—even using compassion where it fit. Dante killed the man who offered you every kindness and every ounce of compassion. How the hell can you still stand up for him?”

“I—I—I never thought the doctor would die! The doctor or anyone else. And you don’t understand,” Donavan told Mason, shaking his head. “And you must be blind. Don’t you see it? Stephan Dante tells the truth. He said that he’d be out. He said that it was easy to play the authorities when we all played together. He did it. And he’s coming back for me.”

“He’s coming back for you?” Mason asked.

“Yes! He will regain his power, all that was taken from him, and when he does have his power again, he’ll come back. And he’ll find us, wherever we are. He’ll come in glory and he’ll sweep us away to his place where his believers become immortal—”

“Oh, good God, Terry! You’ve had trouble, yes, but you don’t seem to be a stupid man. Seriously, you believe that?”

“He has already done what he said that he’d do!” Donavan reminded Mason.

Mason shook his head. “I just don’t understand you falling for a ridiculous theory. Do you believe that the Heaven’s Gate suicides jumped on spaceships to travel to a heavenly astral plane? You do believe that the earth is round, right?”

“Of course!”

“Terry, do you want to believe in something solid and real? I’m solid and real and right here and the FBI does have sway with the Justice Department. Let me show you something else that’s real.” He pulled out his phone and flipped to pictures of Dante’s victims. “They look beautiful, right? But I don’t believe that you meant to hurt anyone. And when Dante steals all their blood, Terry, they die. They are the beautiful dead who—as all living creatures—will now rot and decay. They are not buying anyone a ticket to vampire immortality. I can help you, Terry. Trust me. Stephan Dante has gotten what he wants from you. Oh, well, first he’s not going to turn into an immortal and he knows it. By the way, he trained Jesse Miller, who is no longer with us—having been tutored by Dante, but deciding the heck with vampires, he’d just become Jack the Ripper. An honest thing at least—he just liked the power of stealing life from others. That’s not you, Terry. Accept this—Dante is not coming back for you. He not only can’t help you, but if he could, he wouldn’t. You don’t offer him anything more than he needs. I know that you’re not a cold-blooded killer. So does he. You’ve no history of forging, and to the best of my knowledge, you’re not sitting on a multimillion-dollar haul anywhere. Help me—and I will help you.”

Terry stared at him a long time and then hung his head. “I… He didn’t say that I had to kill anyone. He said that my work here would be enough for me to gain my place with him.”

“He lied. He gave you a bold, all-out lie, Terry. And somewhere inside you, you know it. You wanted to believe in him. You wanted it so badly because it was better than the prospect of twenty years to life behind bars. Anything was better than that. You know, sometimes it starts with someone promising all good things. A truly equal society. That’s pretty much what Jim Jones promised his followers. Social justice. But what turned him on, what kept him moving forward at all times, was a desire for power. Dante doesn’t believe in the least that he’s going to be immortal. What he loves, what he craves, is power. He also loves the act of playing God—he loves killing. Terry, this is your chance to help me out.”

“Yes!” Donavan said, suddenly looking up at him. The man had tears in his eyes. “Yes, I will help you. I am so sorry. I—I was a wretched alcoholic. I didn’t want to kill anyone, but when I didn’t drink the shaking and the headaches got so bad, all until I was in here…all until the doctor… I…” He stopped speaking and looked Mason in the eye. “I will help you. I don’t know everything, but I will help you.”

“Libby Larson has two small children,” Alexandra—Alex—Beaufort told Della. “Her poor husband—he’s beside himself. I don’t think that Libby will be returning to work with prisoners, not after this! In this crazy day and age, the woman has a beautiful home life, people who truly love her, and now this…”

“She’s still touch and go?” Della asked.

“The doctors believe that she will make it. We were just fighting different situations. He hit her with a needle filled with sedation, stabbed her in the side—luckily missing major organs—and knocked her on the head with something…no one was even sure what he grabbed. But we’ve been giving her constant transfusions and, of course, done everything possible to clean out her system from the overdose of morphine. Such a good person!”

Della smiled and nodded at the young nurse speaking with her. “Did you know her before she came in after the attack?”

“I did. We went to nursing school together. She believed that everyone deserved a second chance. That human beings were basically good, and that…”

Her words trailed.

“I still believe, just like Libby, that most people are good,” Della told her ruefully. “It’s like anything—we hear the most about the bad. And sometimes we’re unfortunate enough to see it. But I’ve been at this awhile and I can tell you that most people are good and want to help when help is needed. We know about the bad—which I believe is the fringe—because the bad is always loud and makes us question all else. Anyway, sorry, I understand her—and understand if she doesn’t go back to work at the facility. I didn’t come to cause further problems—I don’t want to upset her any more but if possible, I would like to talk to her.”

“She wants to see you,” Alex said. “She heard the FBI had brought him in and she wants to help catch him again. Still…for her safety and well-being, five minutes?” Alex asked.

“Five minutes,” Della promised.

Libby Larson was in a private room. An IV ran fluids into her arm, while a tube in her nostrils provided oxygen.

Even in a hospital bed with tubes and wires all around her, Libby was a beautiful young woman. Her eyes were closed when Della entered the room, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Dante had been furious that he couldn’t tend to her as he did his victims—dressing her up to lie in “sleep” like a fairy-tale princess just waiting for true love’s kiss.

Her hair was dark black and swept across the whiteness of the hospital sheets. When she opened her eyes, they were an incredible deep brown.

“FBI?” she whispered.

Della nodded, smiling, drawing up a chair. “And so grateful to see you alive and on your way to recovery.”

“I knew who he was. And still…we thought he was going to die. The doctor… Oh, God, we were even discussing the fact that we were compelled to do everything we could to save life. He should have been dead! I was one of the medical personnel who rushed into the cafeteria when the guards had it under control and I saw the blood… He shouldn’t be alive! But he is, and Dr. Henson is dead and others and… I’m so sorry!”

“What happened?” Della asked. “Do you remember anything at all?”

“Yes. When Dante came in, naturally he wasn’t cuffed. I don’t remember exactly, but one of us figured he needed to be cuffed and the doctor went out to see the guards. Then I felt a stab, a little prick, and I was bleeding and then I think something hit me on the head but I barely even felt it…he was so fast. I—I don’t remember more!”

“Did he say anything at all?” Della asked. “We’re trying to ascertain where he might be heading.”

“No. Not a word. But…”

“But?”

“I’d seen him before,” she said softly. “Prisoners get vaccines, checkups. He was always so polite, friendly to those around him. And prisoners…talk. When they don’t think that others can hear them. He made friends with everyone in here—the worst of the worst.” She paused, wincing. “The only hard-core people he seemed to ignore were pedophiles—he had no interest in them.”

“To the best of my knowledge, he doesn’t kill children,” Della said.

“How can a man appear to be so decent, polite, even charming and be such a monster? And I can’t help but feel that it’s partially my fault—”

“Never think that. Never. Saving lives is a beautiful thing. Trust me. Stephan Dante has fooled just about everyone he’s ever met. Don’t let him succeed. Don’t let him change you,” Della said softly.

“He whistled sometimes.”

“What did he whistle?”

“I can’t quite put my finger on the tune, but…”

“Yes?”

“It seemed as if he was taunting people with it. A lot of what I’m saying is hearsay. I only saw him a few times while he was incarcerated. I just…” Tears stung her eyes. “The doctor is dead. A guard… That man is a monster!”

“Thank you,” Della told her. “Thank you. And get better! Rest, get better.”

“I will. I have children and the dearest husband in the world. Do you have children?”

“No, I don’t. But I’ve heard yours are wonderful.”

“Little boy, little girl. And my husband! Are you married?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry. That was rude—”

“No, it’s okay. There are people in my life who make it very precious, too.”

“Hold them close. Because we never know. We just never know.” She smiled weakly. “Ah, no children, but there is someone you love. I mean, besides your family!”

“Yes,” Della said, smiling in return. “There is someone very important in my life.”

“Make sure he knows! There were moments when I was semiconscious when I thought I might die, and I wondered what the last words were that I had said to my husband. And I was so glad… We’d been on the phone. He’d told me he could pick up the kids and I thanked him and I told him that I loved him. I was so glad to realize that! Well, happier that they think I’m going to be okay, but…tell people that you love them. Because none of us knows what our last words to anyone will be!”

“I will. I will remember your words. And thank you. Thank you again. I’m going to leave my card on your bedside table. If you think of anything else that might be helpful, will you have someone call me for you?”

“Of course, yes. And I’m going to work on my memory—and my whistle.”

As Della rose to leave, Libby Larson indeed began trying to whistle. Trying to replicate what she had heard.

Despite her condition, she found a tune.

And as she walked out, Della went still. At first, the whisper of a whistle just teased at her memory as well.

Then she thought that she recognized the tune—and that yes, it had been meant to tease and taunt.

And knowing Dante, she thought bitterly, it was almost an invitation. He wanted them to run around trying to follow him.

He didn’t want them missing any of his handiwork.

Excerpted from Cursed at Dawn by Heather Graham. Copyright © 2023 by Heather Graham Pozzessere. Published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

About the author:

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Heather Graham has written more than a hundred novels. She’s a winner of the RWA’s Lifetime Achievement Award, and the Thriller Writers’ Silver Bullet. She is an active member of International Thriller Writers and Mystery Writers of America. For more information, check out her websites: TheOriginalHeatherGraham.com, eHeatherGraham.com, and HeatherGraham.tv. You can also find Heather on Facebook.

Author Website / Facebook / Twitter

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Phantom Fire
Delta James
(Winged Warriors, #1)
Publication date: August 18th 2023
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance

A night of passion and a positive pregnancy test will change everything.

 

Kessily Campbell, a rising star environmental lawyer, was not looking for a relationship when she met the mysterious Falkor at a conference. The attraction was instantaneous and powerful. She didn’t have time for commitment in her life so, she invited him to her room for a fun evening. When Kessily discovers she is pregnant, she must face the realities that come with this new life.

Falkor, dragon and alpha of the Phantom Fire, would lose too much if he committed to a woman. Tradition stated when a member of the Phantom Fire found their eternal flame they were to give up their position and immortality. In addition, they had to pledge their first-born son to the Winged Warriors when he reached age. There are not many human women who are willing to accept those terms.

As the head lawyer on an important case involving the Wind River Mountains, Kessily is very busy. Walking into a meeting with her boss to meet a new co-plaintiff, she is shocked to realize that Falkor will be joining her legal team. Now she has to figure out how to tell him he’s going to be a father in the next seven months.

As the trial heats up so does their relationship. Their relationship is tested as they fight to find a path forward. Will they be able to reach a compromise that will benefit everyone? Find out in this passionate and suspenseful tale of love and responsibility.

If you enjoy romantic suspense books by K.C. Crowne and Lillian Monroe you’ll love this story of a passionate night that changes everything.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

—

EXCERPT:

Along about dusk, she had her usual campsite within reach. As she rounded the corner, she realized it was in use. The woman emerging out of the bright orange tent smiled as she spotted Kessily and raised her hand.

“Hello, sister,” she called. She was dressed in jeans and a pretty sweater with Native American-inspired artwork intricately woven into the sweater. Her jeans were tucked into traditional moccasins instead of hiking boots.

Kessily looked all around her to see to whom the woman was referring.

The woman laughed. “Yes, I mean you. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“You have? Do we know each other?” Kessily asked as she reached into her pocket for the bear spray—if it could drop a grizzly, surely it could drop a medium-sized female.

“There is no need for violence or confusion. I am known as She Who Listens.”

“What do you listen to?” asked Kessily.

“To all the living things. They speak to me.”

Curious, Kessily moved closer. “What do they tell you?”

“Many things. For instance, they say you are on a great quest.”

Kessily smiled and approached her. There didn’t seem to be any reason not to. “I’m hiking up to the Cauldron of Fire.”

“Ah, it is the dragon you seek. He searches for you, as well.”

Okay, so the woman is a little bit crackers. Perhaps I’ll move along and hope she doesn’t follow.

“You think I’m not right in the head, but I am. There is a reason you feel at peace when you are within sight of the Cauldron. It is because he is there and has been waiting. He will come to you and you will bear his child.”

“I’m not quite sure how to tell you this,” Kessily said, politely, “but it is next to impossible for me to get pregnant. I have something called PCOS. It will prevent me from ever having children.”

“Dragon seed is strong. I can prove to you that what I say is true.”

“Short of producing a dragon, I don’t think that’s possible. But you have yourself a nice day.”

Kessily turned to leave, and she heard the woman scurrying back into her tent. She didn’t think anything good could come of that. She picked up her pace and began to put as much distance between herself and the mad woman as she possibly could. When the sound of the woman exiting her tent and starting after her reached her ears, Kessily broke into a run.

“Wait, sister! I mean you no harm,” the woman said as her hand closed around Kessily’s upper arm and spun her around. In her hands was a large deck of ornate cards. “Pick one.”

“No, thanks. I have friends waiting and want to get to them before they start to worry.”

The woman frowned and shook her head. “No, you don’t. There is no one who waits for you. Pick a card. Listen to the message the gods send to you, and I will leave you in peace. I am nothing more than their messenger. When you have listened, I will go.”

The woman held out the deck of cards, and hesitantly Kessily started to pick one but glanced at the woman’s face to see if there was any indication that she wanted her to pick a specific card. There was nothing. This woman would be hard to beat in a poker game. Her expression showed no emotion whatsoever.

“Pick.”

Kessily withdrew a card and handed it to the woman, who smiled. “You chose the silver dragon of imagination, possibility, and self-discovery.”

Looking at the card, all Kessily could see was a silver dragon flying high over the peaks of a set of mountains that looked oddly familiar. The sky above it was midnight blue with shining stars that cast their light on the snow-capped peaks.

“What are you trying to tell me?” Kessily asked.

“It is not I who speaks to you, but the dragon lord who will claim you. I wish you well, sister.” The woman turned around and returned to her campsite.

Wanting to put as much distance between them as possible, Kessily headed up the trail at a fast pace—just short of running. What a nut job. Nice enough, but clearly not quite right in the head.

 

Author Bio:

As a USA Today bestselling romance author, Delta James aims to captivate readers with stories about complex,curvy heroines and the dominant alpha males who adore them. For Delta, romance is more than just a love story; it’s a journey with challenges and thrills along the way.

After creating a second chapter for herself that was dramatically different than the first, Delta now resides in Florida where she relaxes on warm summer evenings with her loveable pack of basset hounds as they watch the birds, squirrels and lizards. When not crafting fast-paced tales, she enjoys horseback riding, walks on the beach, and white-water rafting.

More about Delta, including a full list of her books and audiobooks, can be found at http://www.deltajames.com.

Her readers mean the world to her, and Delta tries to interact personally to as many messages as she can. If you’d like to chat or discuss books, you can find Delta on Instagram, Facebook, and in her private reader group https://www.facebook.com/groups/348982795738444.

If you’re looking for your next bingeable series, you can get a FREE story by joining her newsletter https://www.subscribepage.com/VIPlist22019.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram / Newsletter

 

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Fighting for the Truth
A.B. Medley
(Finding the Truth, #4)
Publication date: August 18th 2023
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense

You’ve always been mine to love and to hate…

Small towns have a way of making you face your past.

And there’s two sides to every story.

Hawk and Brittney met as kids in a time when they both needed someone.

Their worlds were already in a state of unrest when an unexpected betrayal stripped them bare.

Words of hate were uttered and promises broken, leaving them bitter enemies.

One is left fighting for the truth, while the other is left with nothing but a dream.

But time and distance can’t separate them forever and fate seemingly intervenes.

Lines blur as they realize things may not have been what they seemed, and old feelings are resurrected.

But amid salvaging their connection comes another fight.

Hawk’s murky past catches up to him and Brittney is thrust in the middle, leaving him no choice but to fight once more to save the girl he realizes he’s always loved.

Even if it means destroying her dreams and wrecking her heart.

Fighting for her is the only thing that matters, and this is one battle he won’t lose.

Winner takes heart.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo

—

EXCERPT:

I lock myself in my apartment still trembling inside. After a moment spent taking a breath, I toss my keys on the kitchen table and put my purse beside them and then find my favorite wine. I start to reach for a glass and decide I don’t need it; the bottle will do.

I plop down on my couch and turn on the television in search of something to take my mind off his hate filled green eyes and the way they mocked me. I rest my head on the back of the couch as I swipe away another tear.

He makes me so angry. And the only reason he’s getting to me this much is because I didn’t bury my feelings deep enough. A mistake I’ll be working on tomorrow. But for now, I’ll let the wine drown him out.

I take my first sip as I hear a knock on my door. Probably Briella. Dang Zander and his big mouth. He didn’t want me to be alone because I was so upset. I’m sure he called her.

I unlock the door and almost scream. Not Briella. “What are you doing here, Hawk? And how do you know where I live?”

He sends me a small smile, but it lacks warmth. “Can I come in? We really do need to talk.”

I step aside so he can enter my apartment. Once inside, I walk back to my living room and take my seat back on the couch. He follows me, casually glancing around before sitting on the other end.

I mute the TV. “Let’s hear it. What other insults and stones are you planning to throw at me?”

He stares directly into my eyes. I can’t stand how he makes my heart race even as I want to hate him.

“I know you don’t trust me. And I haven’t forgotten the fact you hate me. You’re not my favorite person either,” he begins.

I roll my eyes. “Is there a point to this?”

His jaw tightens. “Yes. My point is, you’re going to end up in trouble if you get involved with the Leones in any way. They’ve got it out for me and you’re going to get caught in the crossfire.”

“Why? What did you do? Break a promise to them too?” I ask sharply.

He stands and rakes a hand through his dark hair. “The details aren’t what matter. What matters is they’re trying to hurt me, and they’ll use you to do it.”

I stand and lift my chin to meet his gaze. “Then you’re in the clear. There’s no reason coming for me would hurt you. There’s no love lost between the two of us, remember?”

He surprises me by reaching out and tracing my jaw with his finger. His face seems to soften as he relaxes his knit brows, but his eyes blaze. “I remember everything about you, dolcezza. And that means you’re mine to love or to hate. They know too much about my past, and it includes what you used to mean to me.”

I don’t back down. He started this. He thinks I broke my promise to him. I didn’t. And he’s about to learn the truth the hard way. This will probably make him hate me more, but I can’t find it in me to care how it affects him, or even me right now. He took everything else from me, why shouldn’t he take the only other thing I have left to give?

“Come on then. I’ll fulfill one of my promises to you,” I say confidently.

His eyes widen a fraction, almost as if he already knows what I’ll say next. “What are you talking about?”

“I promised you I’d always be yours, and you just said I’m yours to love or hate, yet you’ve never had me.” I pull my shirt over my head and drop it on the floor. “Take me, Hawk. Go ahead and take what’s yours.”

Author Bio:

A.B. Medley lives in Tennessee with the love of her life and two sons. Her husband stole her heart when she was sixteen and their relationship is one of those meant to be love stories you find in magazines and novels.

She is a dental hygienist who loves to read and has always dabbled in writing. When she’s not making people’s smiles shine, she enjoys belting out songs with her boys, dancing, raspberries, baseball, and anything vintage. Like any proper Tennessean, Sundrop is her drink of choice.

She loves her family and friends fiercely and believes in always chasing your dreams.

Deception in the Truth is her debut novel—but now she’s hooked, and there’s more to come!

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Bookbub / TikTok

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—

**This post contains Amazon affiliate links which will allow me as an associate to earn a small commission on any purchase made through the link of the products I share. This commission in no way changes the pricing of any items for the buyer.**

With my family dealing with a lot right now I missed last week’s new addition post so this is a combined two weeks worth. Guess what though… after two weeks I am still totally behaving and have only added three new titles in that time. This makes eleven straight weeks of not going crazy and falling off the wagon, yes, I’m proud!

As always clicking the covers will take you to the book on Amazon!**

New additions from Netgalley Aug 6th – Aug 20th

She’s not here to make friends. She’s here to make trouble.
With her piercings, tattoos and spiky blond hair, Ellen Truesdale doesn’t quite fit in with the other folks in Coyote Canyon—and that’s just fine with her. She’s only here to put her father out of business, as payback for abandoning her when she was young.
Or is she more interested in finally proving that she was worth keeping?
Either way, she’s struggling to keep her rival well-drilling company afloat. And being a single woman in a male-dominated field has started to take a toll. So when Hendrix Durrant steps in to help, Ellen has no choice but to let him—even though he happens to be her father’s business partner and therefore her enemy. But the closer she works with him, the more she sees what she’s been missing…in life and love. And once she lets go of her anger long enough to learn the truth about her past, she might just find the family she’s always wanted.

Welcome to Wishing Tree, where the magic of Christmas in July will bring you home in this heartwarming story by #1 New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery.

Some heartbreaks hit harder than others. For Shaye Harper, the last one was so bad she swore off men for good. Wishing Tree, Washington, was supposed to be a pit stop on the road to a fresh start, but Shaye is swiftly drawn in by the quirky small town’s celebrations—and a handsome stranger she can’t resist.

After deployments around the world, army vet Lawson Easley knows there’s no place better than his hometown. And he’s determined to stay right here, forever. Too bad the first woman who feels like “the one” is just passing through. The more time he spends with Shaye, the more he knows that she’s the piece his heart’s been missing.

Swept up by the joyful summer festivities and Lawson’s obvious affection, Shaye starts to feel she belongs. Here, with him. She never meant to end up in Wishing Tree. Then again, she never meant to fall in love…
 
Don’t miss The Happiness Plan, a new novel coming from #1 New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery where three women experience hope, heartache, and the power of friendship as they search for true happiness!

After her mother’s death, a teen pieces together the truth of her family’s past and what her mom was hiding from in this thriller that’s perfect for fans of Courtney Summers and Tiffany D. Jackson.

Harlow Ford has spent her entire life running, caught in her mother’s wake as they flit from town to town, hiding from a presence that Harlow isn’t even sure is real. In each new place, Harlow takes on a new name and personality, and each time they run, she leaves another piece of herself behind.

When Harlow and her mom set off on yet another 3 a.m. escape, they are involved in a car accident that leaves Harlow’s mother fatally wounded. Before she dies, she tells Harlow two things: where to find the key to a safety deposit box and to never stop running. In the box, Harlow finds thirty grand in cash, life insurance documents, and several fake IDs for both herself and her mom—an on-the-run essentials kit. But Harlow also finds a photograph of her mom as a teenager with two other girls, the deed to a house in a town she’s never heard of, and a handful of newspaper clippings discussing the disappearance of a woman named Eve Kennedy, Harlow’s grandmother…relics of a part of Harlow’s life she never knew existed.

With these tantalizing clues about her mother’s secrets and the power to choose her own future for the first time, Harlow realizes she has two choices: keep fleeing her mom’s ghosts or face down the nebulous threat that’s been hanging over her for her entire life.