Spotlight HTML Daemon Deception by Mariah Ankenman

Daemon Deception

Daemon Series

Book Two

Mariah Ankenman

Genre: Paranormal Romance
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Date of Publication: March 3rd, 2018
ISBN: 978-1-5092-1716-8  
ISBN: 978-1-5092-1717-5
Number of pages: 268
Word Count: 64,965
Cover Artist: Debbie Taylor
Tagline: Who do you trust when those closest betray you?
Book Description:
As a witch, and one of the smartest scientists around, Celia’s job is to help the Enforcers defeat evil. Her latest task is to decipher the new language of the Kakodaemons. It should be easy, but she finds it nearly impossible with the demanding, frustratingly attractive council head breathing down her neck.
Euadaemon Damien has been called tough, but he’s tasked with protecting the innocent and war is brewing. He recruits Celia Dahl. Though he needs her brain, he finds much more about the sexy woman appealing.
As they work together, they find themselves engaged in more than just a working relationship. But even those closest can hide dark deceptions. Celia and Damien discover sacrifices must be made if there is hope for humanity and love.

“What do you
need?” he asked, once he reached her side, bag in hand.
“There’s a vial
inside. A potion I made to lessen the effects of the blood curse. I took one
before I broke the spell, but I’m not sure it did much good.”
As horrible as
her wounds were, he suspected her potion did help. If Racine’s account was
accurate, the blood curse could have been a lot worse. “This?” He held up a
glass tube with blue liquid inside, so bright it almost glowed in the dark
“Yes,” she
panted, clearly in pain. “Pour it directly onto my wounds.”
He hesitated.
“Will it hurt?”
She managed a
small shrug. “It can’t hurt any worse than it does now.”
If he ever
discovered the Sorcerer who created this blood curse, he would put him or her in
the ground. After he made them bleed, a lot. Removing the stopper, he tipped
the vial over her wounds. The blue, shimmering potion dropped into the deep
gashes and started to bubble. Celia sucked in a sharp breath.
“Does it hurt?”
She giggled.
“No. It tickles.”
Odd, but better
than hurting. If he had his way, Celia would never feel any pain again.
He watched in
amazement as the potion bubbled and sparked. Before his eyes, her wounds
started to shrink. The skin began to knit itself together. In just a few short
minutes, those deep, raw cuts reduced to three long, thin scars. The skin
remained red and tender, but the wounds had closed.
“Did it work?”
“Baby, you are
one amazing Witch.”
A smiled tipped
her lips as her cheeks tinged a tempting pink. She rolled to her side, then
winced and rolled back.
“Well, it’s
better. That’s a start. I guess I’ll have to sleep on my stomach tonight.” She
frowned and he found the expression adorable. “I hate sleeping on my stomach. I
can never fall asleep that way. It’s so uncomfortable.”
He stood and
started to unbutton his shirt.
He didn’t
answer, just continued to undress until he was down to his boxers. Then he
slipped into bed with her and pulled her onto his chest.
“There. Better?”
She buried her
face in his chest. “Much.”

Careful of her
back, he wrapped his arms around her and immediately realized his mistake.
Celia was naked. He’d removed her clothes himself, but had been too distracted
by her wounds to notice or appreciate her nudity. He noticed it now. Silky,
soft flesh pressed against every inch of his body. Her firm breasts smashed
against his chest, and he felt her nipples begin to harden. One leg draped
across his groin, moving slowly back and forth. Yeah, he noticed all right. If
the rising tent in his boxers was any indication, he appreciated it, too.

About the Author:
RWA® Golden Heart® Nominated author Mariah Ankenman lives in the beautiful Rocky Mountains with her two rambunctious daughters and loving husband who provides ample inspiration for her heart-stopping heroes.
Since 2016 Mariah has published seven books and doesn’t plan on stopping any time soon. Whether she’s writing hometown heroes or sexy supernaturals, Mariah loves to lose herself in a world of words. Her favorite thing about writing is when she can make someone’s day a little brighter with one of her books.
Twitter: @mariahankenman

The Refuge Trilogy by Annabelle McInnes


True Refuge
The Refuge Trilogy
Book One
Annabelle McInnes
Genre: LGBTI Speculative Romance
Publisher: Escape Publishing
Imprint of Harlequin Australia
Date of Publication: 21st September 2017
ISBN: 9781489251015
Number of pages: 250
Word Count: 65,000
Cover Artist: Escape Publishing
Book Description:
Book one in an emotional, erotic, dramatic trilogy about a world gone to hell, and the hell we hold inside…
The human race has been all but wiped out, along with our best traits: compassion, empathy, and generosity.
Euan is a survivor. In a dystopian wasteland infused with violence and cruelty, he protects something invaluable. His love for Nick and the solace that comes with the connection keeps him from destruction, and offers him that most elusive and dangerous emotion of all —
But happiness comes at a price and a hunting trip leaves Nick vulnerable to the evil that still infects the world. When Euan returns, he finds Nick broken and bloody, irrevocably damaged in both body and soul.
Now Euan’s only goal is to find a place for Nick to heal, a safe place, a refuge where they can rest, recover and repair their love. When they risk a raid on an abandoned house, they discover the unthinkable, the rarest treasure of all. A woman.
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Chapter One
True Refuge
Euan waited, his
body held rigid in a state of hiatus. His muscles burned, quivering
involuntarily from remaining immobile for so long. The warm breeze rustled the
tussocks that surrounded him, and the seedpods tickled his ears as he crouched
among the native grasses. The morning sky above him was a vibrant blue, marred
only by sparse clouds that meandered across the unlimited expanse with little
concern for the struggle for survival that went on down below. Only his chest
moved as he took each slow inhalation of breath, his eyes remaining focused on
the net that stretched out in front of him.
There was a
movement to his right. A ripple in the stillness. The dry grass stirred and the
brittle stalks crackled in the silence. There was a patter, a lull, a dislodged
stone on the dry earth, and then all was quiet once again.
He dragged in a
breath and forced his broad shoulders to relax. Each fist was clasped around a
rusted tin can, their contents long gone, but the casing still served his
purpose. His large hands held the round metal objects easily, the alloy cool as
it pressed against his calloused skin.
His nose itched
but he ignored it. He narrowed his eyes as the sound to his right reoccurred.
This time, the rustling was prolonged, the animal gaining confidence in its
terrain. Just a few more minutes and then he could pounce.
He cursed when
there was a shout and a clattering of plastic. The creature to his right bolted
in the opposite direction to the snare, disappearing into its underground
shelter. Euan’s hunting partner Lenny had reacted early, scaring the animals
off before he was ready to act.
Sabotaging his
attempts to gather enough food for them to return to camp.
He had no choice
but to jump up from his prone position and beat the tin cans together. The
combined noise created by the empty plastic bottles and Euan’s cans frightened
the game they were trying to catch. A number of long-eared hares bounded before
him, headed towards the net they’d pulled against the boughs of two oak trees
and the pit they’d dug immediately before the mesh to ensure their bait would
be caught.
The two men
moved forward as one. Lenny was exuberant, his movements excessive and
unnecessary. Euan was resigned and his unease grew with every step, until two
rabbits were caught, clouds of dust rising like smoke in their wake.
Euan quickly
discarded his tins and knelt at the edge of the pit. It was an easy thing to
capture the frightened animals by the elongated ears and snap their delicate
necks. Two substantial hares were nothing to scorn, and these were especially
fat from the lack of human and domesticated animal encroachment. But it could
have been more. It should have been more.
Euan rose but
said nothing as he watched Lenny approach the pit. He couldn’t help curling his
lip at stink of old sweat that clung to filthy, threadbare clothing as he
reluctantly handed his prize over to the outstretched hand.
A shudder of
uneasiness was beginning to crawl up his spine. That was the third time his
effort to capture their prey had been foiled. That didn’t take even into
account that the day before Lenny had dragged his heels the entire journey,
keeping their pace deliberately leisurely, despite Euan’s attempt to get this
provisions trip over and done with as quickly as possible.
This last
attempt to undermine his hunting efforts was shining as brightly as a neon sign
in an apocalyptic-induced darkness.
Lenny had
thwarted him on purpose.
Euan watched
with growing trepidation as Lenny tied the rabbits to his backpack with
indifference. They were meant to be hunting to feed six people, themselves
included. Neither of them had eaten since yesterday. His reluctance made no
“I thought we
were waiting for my signal,’ Euan stated, watching with a keen eye for any
indication of ulterior motives.
Lenny blinked.
‘You didn’t make it?’
After a weighted
pause, Euan murmured ‘No.’
The lean man
shrugged, his gaze averted, before he re-shouldered his backpack, the dead
rabbits swinging from their colourful twine.
Euan pulled
himself up to his full height. It had been three years since the collapse of
mankind. Three years of fighting for survival, living off the land, trying to
escape the mayhem of what was left of civilisation. Since then, Euan had lived
his life attuned to his senses, the prickle on his nape and the lead ball that
rolled around in the pit of his stomach.
That lead ball
was now dissolving, morphing into mercury that was poisoning his insides.
Something was wrong, and he knew that the man in front of him, fiddling with
the frayed shoulder strap of his backpack with suddenly shaking fingers, was
the cause.


Fractured Refuge
The Refuge Trilogy
Book Two
Annabelle McInnes
Genre: LGBTI Speculative Romance
Publisher: Escape Publishing,
Harlequin Australia
Date of Publication: 12 November 2017
ISBN: 9781489251640
ASIN: B0746F6KJ6
Number of pages: 250
Word Count: 65,000
Cover Artist: Escape Publishing
Book Description:
They thought they’d found a refuge, but the battle for survival has only just begun…
Surrounded by the destruction of the human race, Euan, Nick, and Kira find solace in one another, making their underground bunker a haven and a home. Sheltered under layers of steel and cement, they should be safe, but danger isn’t always kept outside — sometimes the enemy is within.
When their electronic warning system detects intruders, Euan and Nick must investigate. Outside, they discover the true terror that is approaching, and Euan must make a terrible decision: stay or go. To stay is to watch the only people he loves perish under the weight of pure evil. To leave is to face his certain death to protect them and potentially save humankind.
Despite all his preparation, skills, and strength, Euan knows that each decision carries the risk that he could destroy them all.
The second book in the Refuge Trilogy.
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Chapter One Fractured Refuge
The room was
filled with the pungent scent of fried eggs and coffee. The air was warm. The
climate-control system working at full capacity to eradicate the chill from an
encroaching winter. Dishes were stacked high, men’s socks were squashed in odd
corners and a pair of faded pink slippers lay discarded by an open doorway.
Euan lifted a
ceramic mug that was glazed with dandelions in colours of gold, green and blue.
He took a sip of the scorching beverage and ran his tongue over the burn to his
upper lip. The sting was good; the bitter taste of the brew was better.
His gaze
wandered. Steel beige walls were covered in artworks. Landscapes painted with
muted oils, portraits formulated in lead. Images that captured the essence of
life, the allure of the sky, the wonders of the spirit, the magic of dreams.
Most made by his reluctant hand.
A single
photograph was centred between the amateur drawings. Its position of
significance was no accident. Two children grinned at the camera. Their arms
were wrapped around each other’s shoulder. Smiles as bright as the sunshine
filtered through their blond hair and glinted off their identical blue eyes.
Two beautiful children, unaware of what their future would hold.
Two beautiful
children who were full of hope, full of dreams, full of love and life.
Two beautiful
children. One brother, one sister.
As adults, the
two children would witness the end of the civilised world.
The mahogany
chair groaned under Euan’s weight. The hardwood supported his spine as he leant
back against the dark timber and stretched his long legs under the coordinating
dining table. His bare foot knocked his companion’s. They shared a small smile
as their skin touched and a spark of fire raced through their nerve endings.
Nick bumped his eyebrows suggestively. Euan’s lips kicked up higher in
The food that he
had just consumed nourished his body as effectively as the steel hull of the
underground bunker protected those he cherished. Surrounded by strength,
wrapped in love, the smile remained on his lips. It was kin to the grin that
was emulated by those two children. He relished a moment of untainted
satisfaction. A glorious bliss that bloomed in his sternum and radiated out
through his muscles and into his limbs, his fingers, his toes.
It was
beautiful. This was beautiful.
He sighed,
Kira’s voice
broke the comfortable silence. ‘Is that coffee finished?’
His hand
remained aloft. He held his breath in his lungs. His gaze moved from Nick to
focus on the petite blonde woman who sat rigidly on the edge of her seat to his
left. The hum of the ventilation system became the only sound in the
underground room.
Across from him,
Nick reached out and grasped the handle of his mug. His features were tight
with trepidation. The muscles around his green eyes were firm as he lifted a
twin to Euan’s mug from where it rested innocuously in the middle of the
mahogany table. His shoulders were tense as he tilted his head to look inside.
His chin lifted
and met Kira’s gaze. ‘Yes?’
The amiable
atmosphere in the room plummeted. Euan let his breath ease out of his chest. He
took a cautious sip.
Kira pursed her
lips. A furrow deepened between her blonde brows. Her knee began to bounce with
the rhythm of exaggerated irritation. The collar of the pale yellow t-shirt she
wore was frayed, stretched, warped. Much like the building tension in the room.
Euan bit back a sigh.
Her question was
directed at Nick. ‘And you’re just going to leave it there?’
Nick’s nervous
swallow was audible. His gaze flickered between a growing adversary and an
inanimate object. He touched his tongue to his upper lip, raked his fingers
through his hair and stared at the lesser of the two threats. His frustration
increased, his irritability brewing beneath the surface. Nick’s predisposition
was to please, to entertain, to love. But every man had his kryptonite. Being
trapped underground, waiting for death’s scythe to slice his soul from his body
would cause even the greatest man to falter. Nick was no deity in that sense.
Neither was
Euan. They were simply two men, two men desperate to please a woman deteriorating
before their eyes.


Eternal Refuge
The Refuge Trilogy
Book Three
Annabelle McInnes
Genre: LGBTI Speculative Romance
Publisher: Escape Publishing,
Harlequin Australia
Date of Publication: 12 January 2018
ISBN: 9781489252692
Number of pages: 250
Word Count: 65,000
Cover Artist: Escape Publishing
Book Description:
They fight for their survival, they fight for their love, and they fight for the human race.
Euan left his home whole, only to return broken, battered, and partially blind. He has endured the torments inflicted upon him by monster and man, but they are nothing compared to the consequences of betraying Nick and Kira. Incapacitated, he has no choice but to concede leadership to the man he considered his enemy, and is powerless as the distance between him and those he loves deepens and grows.
But his recovery time is short lived. The commander of destruction still lurks in the shadows, determined to dominate and control what is left of the human race. The final battle is upon them. They need a champion, a hero for humanity. There is nowhere left to run, and there is only one person who can provide the ultimate catalyst for change: A little, blonde sun-sprite, with crystal blue eyes.
The third book in the Refuge Trilogy.
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Excerpt Eternal Refuge:
Humanity needed
a hero. But they would find no saviour in Euan.
The steel was
cold beneath his fingers. He squeezed the rung of the ladder and the chill bit
into his palms. He tilted his neck to look up. The open portal above him was
the gateway to paradise, to fresh air and open space. Kira’s head peeked over
the lip of the gaping exit and the impossible living fairy consumed his
diminished vision. Her blue eyes glinted with adoration and pride, and her lips
quirked when he glared at her for too long.
‘Do you need
help?’ she asked.
He huffed and
shook his head. It was bitterness that clipped his words. ‘Been in bed for long
enough, sweetheart. Done waiting, done healing. If I can piss on my own, I
don’t need help to climb a ladder.’
He held in the
smirk when she sighed in mock exasperation.
One foot. Two.
He pulled himself onto the base of the ladder and hissed through his teeth at
the pain. Each foot was bound beneath his socks, so there was little risk of
further injury, but the skin remained tender, fragile. The discomfort sliced up
from the healing skin, through his calves and into the base of his spine.
He paused,
breathed. ‘You say a word, and I will tan that pretty ass.’
‘You’ll have to
catch it first,’ she said with a smile in her voice.
He answered her
taunt with a low chuckle. ‘You’d like it if I gave it a try.’
Kira’s tone was
serious when she replied, ‘I would.’
Four steps and
his hands followed. The ache in his shoulder increased as it took on more of
his weight. He blinked, and only one eye responded. The bandages were tight
around his head and his hearing was muffled. His feet stung as if the stones
still tore at his skin, as if the flames still licked at his bones. Rodger and
his parasites had taken so much from him. Stripped him of not just the flesh
from his body, but also his agility, his dexterity.
‘About to leave
this fucking bunker and I can’t hear, can’t see, can’t fucking run—’
‘You’re almost
there,’ she interjected to distract him.
It worked, as it
always did. She was a witch that wove a spell of enchantment, a netting that
drew him to her call. It had been her words that had brought him from the
temptation of death to the disaster that was his corporal self. But if she was
in the realm of the living, Euan would be too.
He moved to
place his palm against another cold rung. Kira’s assessment from above was like
a balm to his flaming skin. She filtered the shroud of despondency that clouded
his thoughts. Under her gaze he would fucking succeed.
But his depth
perception was shot and he missed his target. For a moment he wavered, his balance
precarious. Mortifying images of his broken body sprawled out on the carpet
below while Kira looked on propelled him to alter the direction of his fingers.
At the last moment, he caught the support bar.
‘You’re doing
great,’ she said before the barbs of his self-flagellating thoughts could catch
into his confidence and take hold.
But it was too
late. His self-hatred had embedded its talons deep. His pride had done this.
His pride and his ego. If only he had waited, if only he hadn’t been so selfish.
If he had listened to his heart and not his head, he wouldn’t have risked their
lives. They wouldn’t have lost Ben …
Kira’s hand was
in his vision. In front of his single working eye was the hand of a woman that
was his heart, his humanity. Her long fingers were relaxed, pointed his way.
The offering so sincere and innocent that the grunt that caught in his throat
had nothing to do with the ram-rods of pain that shot through his nervous
system. She had worked so hard to get him here, to keep him breathing, see him
healed, on his feet, and strong enough to climb this fucking ladder without
His gut was a
pit of aggressive vipers. His breath erratic. His heart nothing but thunder and
lightning. That damn throb in his shoulder.
‘You can do it,’
she whispered.
He took a deep
breath and held it. Calmed himself. He nuzzled her palm instead of taking the
offered assistance. When he brushed his lips against her skin, she let out a
‘I’m good,
sweetheart,’ he told her, because he was. He may be less of the man he was when
he had left them in his search for retribution, but he could, would, scale the
ladder to the surface.
About the Author:
From the age of sixteen, Annabelle lived in a youth refuge while she remained committed to her education. She spent two years within a section of humanity that society overlooks.
Her experiences are the foundations that drive her stories and her characters. They fight for their freedoms, have courage in the face of adversity and will ultimately, always aspire for greatness.
Annabelle is privileged to spend her time writing with a backdrop of Canberra’s iconic landmarks and admiring its distinct and captivating change of seasons. Outside of her love for reading, she spends every free moment with her husband, son and her poodle named Serendipity. She drinks her whisky neat and is known to scour the local markets in an attempt to find the best blue cheese available.
Follow Annabelle on Instagram @annabellemcinnes, Facebook @authorannabellemcinnes and twitter @akmcinnes. Sign up to her newsletter at and be a part of the journey.

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Soul Thing by Lana Pecherczyk


Soul Thing
The Game of Gods
Book One
Lana Pecherczyk
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Prism Press
Date of Publication: 20th February 2018
Number of pages: 379
Word Count: 101,989
Cover Artist: Lana Pecherczyk
Tagline: Evolution is the Game, Witches are the Glitch
Book Description:
After a decade long war, witches have been obliterated, or so the world thinks. A precarious peace settles and, for the small town of Margaret River, life returns to normal, but for Roo, the hard work is just beginning.
Roo works at the local bar, is a little facetious and can’t wait to high-tail it out of there to keep her powers secret. She’s not certain where they came from but the last thing she wants is to be burned at the stake. Hiding in plain sight seems to work until Cash, a darkly handsome hunter, arrives with disaster in his wake. Witches aren’t defeated, only hidden, and there’s one gunning for Roo and her family. The recent war only touched the surface of the preternatural world and with Cash’s help, Roo learns there are worse things that go bump in the night… and she might be one of them.
Soon she must make a choice—risk exposure to save her loved ones, or remain hidden and safe. But sometimes safe isn’t an option. Sometimes safe is a never-ending game.
# 2 (995 Words) From Chapter 4
I surveyed the
bar to see if I had time to get away and speak to my friend. The customers were
happy, the kitchen crew had either gone home or were enjoying themselves on the
dance floor, and Alvin swept up a broken bottle under a restaurant table. The
back room would be empty. I pushed past the swinging doors to join Kitty, but
almost smacked into her. Her full ice bucket connected with my shin. Ouch!
I opened my
mouth to curse, but stopped when I noticed her face. She stared at something
past my shoulder and momentarily lost her careful composure and seductress
persona. “Hubba hubba. I think I need to go to confession,” she said.
“Why?” I tried
to turn around, but she held me back.
“Don’t look,”
she squeaked, then coughed delicately and lowered her voice to a raspy husk.
“Because I’m having sinful thoughts about melting this ice over that devilishly
hot body. He’s certainly not from around here.” She shoved the bucket into my
hands and pushed me backwards so she had room to stumble past. Recovering with
a sashay and a saunter, she made her way to the counter where a tall, tanned
man stood.
I wouldn’t
exactly call him devilish. He was blonde—are devils blonde? His short hair was
impeccably groomed and styled at the top, the kind of way that took hours to
make it look like it took minutes. His stubble was perfectly trimmed—a designer
five o’clock shadow. The only devilish thing about him was the full arm tattoo
peeking out from under his crisp, white shirt sleeve on one side. It also
showed slightly higher up over his collared neck. Everything about him screamed
money, control and influence. Except the ink. That screamed something else.
His lips
twitched at the corner, and I narrowed my eyes. What was he smiling at? Had he
heard Kitty’s words through the haze of sound?
“Oh, give me a
break,” I mumbled and went cross-eyed. Kitty had found another conquest, and
that left me lugging the heavy load. She was a predator, that woman, I swear. I
stumbled over to the ice trough, dropped half the ice on the floor and almost
slipped to land on my butt. “Seriously?” I hissed to the ice.
I glanced over
my shoulder and spotted Kitty heading back in my direction. Her face was
contorted into an expression I could only describe as horrified or mortified,
or maybe constipated. I smirked, then caught myself, breathed in deeply and
tried again. I gave her my best sincere smile.
“He called me
Ma’am,” she said, and took the empty bucket from my hands. “How dare he? I am
not a Ma’am. I’m a sexy, young, successful, independent woman who—” She stopped
mid-sentence and looked at me, green eyes blazing. “Well, he asked for you,
didn’t he?”
“What? I don’t
know him.” I snatched the bucket back.
“He asked for
you by name. Don’t be shy, your rudeness is keeping the customer waiting.” She
pushed me in the direction of the blue-eyed stranger, making an embarrassing
show of my reluctance. “I have to perform soon anyway,” she said as if she had
better things to do. “Just keep an eye on the bar while I put my game face on.”
She gave me one
last shove and sauntered out back.
Her push sent me
flying, and I tripped over my feet to land in front of the stranger with a
humph. To make matters worse, the music paused between songs and I yelled, “Can
I help you?”
Heat rose to my
cheeks in the silence and I imagined my whole face painted red. The music
started, and I looked down at my feet, took a deep breath and started again.
When I caught his eyes, words fled. They were different—one as clear as the
deep blue ocean, the other also blue, but spliced with muddy clouds in the
turbulent water. It was as though each eye belonged to a different person. I
almost sighed like a school girl. They were amazing. Simply amazing and his
dark lashes were full and framed the masterpiece within perfectly. Hang on. I
squinted, they looked vaguely familiar.
“La Roux?” He
pronounced my name correctly. Maybe he was French, like my name.
I cleared my
throat. “Yes, do I know you?”
“No, but you
know my brother, Tommy. He told me to look you up when I arrived.” His voice
was smooth and hypnotic—a dangerous combination with those eyes.
Wowsers, this
was Cash? His neat and trim exterior wasn’t at all what I expected for a beach
bum, although his well-toned physique was. I stared like a loser for a minute.
Something didn’t add up, and it wasn’t the fact he wore fancy leather loafers
in country Western Australia. No, it was because he used my full name. Nobody
did that. I’d worked hard for people to forget who I’d been in the city—the
girl feared and hated for almost being a witch. My hand fluttered to my collar
in a nervous reaction and his gaze flicked down too.
“How did you
know my full name?” I asked. The mild panic must have crept into my eyes
because he took a step backwards. “Everyone here calls me Roo.”
He scrubbed the
back of his neck and then scanned the room like he had somewhere welled to be.
“Tommy told me. Look, can I get a drink? Whisky, if it’s not too much to ask?”
Jeez, I was just
asking, no need to get grumpy. I glared at him while I pulled a glass from the
drying rack and placed it on the counter. He was full of inconsistencies—his
accent, for one. It was almost non-existent and, apart from saying my name like
he was French, his language was without a pattern or distinguishing lilt that
pointed to his origin. He could’ve hailed from anywhere.
6 Chapter Excerpt Available from
Instafreebie until March 3rd 2018


About the Author:
Lana Pecherczyk is a freckle-faced writer from Perth, Western Australia. She’s a fan of ‘pro-caffeinating’ and writes in Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance. Basically if it’s got sexy heroes, thrilling action and a kick-ass heroine, you know she’ll write it because she loves reading it.
When she’s not writing the next great novel, or wrangling the rug rats, or rescuing GI Joe from the jaws of her Kelpie, she fights evil by moonlight, wins love by daylight and never runs from a real fight.
You can find her books on Amazon and other good online retailers.

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