Blog Tour: Night Times trilogy by Eileen Sheehan

 

The darkest hour is only the beginning in the world of shadows.

Night Times Book One

Night Times Trilogy 1

by Eileen Sheehan

Genre: Paranormal Vampire Romance Thriller

For two hundred years, Ethan has haunted the shadows, carrying the heartbreak of losing Judith, the wife he loved before he was unwillingly turned into a vampire.

When he meets Arabella at a costume party, he's stunned by the similarities she shares with Judith. As their connection deepens, Ethan becomes convinced that Arabella is Judith reborn. But with her returning memories come dangerous secrets—knowledge from a centuries-old vampire-hunting society that could threaten the existence of every vampire alive.

Now, hunted by both a ruthless Vampire League and relentless vampire hunters, Ethan and Arabella find themselves caught in a deadly struggle between love, loyalty, and survival. As enemies close in and the past refuses to stay buried, Ethan must choose between losing Arabella forever or offering her the immortality that was forced upon him.

Night Times (Book One) begins a captivating vampire romance thriller trilogy that is filled with, forbidden love, deadly secrets, and a passion that defies time itself.

 

What readers are saying:

 

“For fans of supernatural thrillers involving vampires, Night Times has got everything they crave... Sheehan has created yet another immersive fantastical world full of vampires, witches, and monster hunters. The book is fast-paced, and since I was enjoying it so much, the pages just flew by….You're going to love this!”

 “… Sheehan doesn’t just focus on romance. She digs into what love and trust really mean when everything’s on the line. There’s also a raw look at what it means for a vampire to lose their humanity—how turning immortal tears you away from who you used to be, and from people you once knew. Immortality in this story isn’t just sparkling and forever-young; it comes with a price: isolation, loss, and sometimes the fading of your own sense of self. Still, there’s a flip side—it can mean never-ending love and the fierce desire to protect…… If you’re in the mood for a supernatural drama that goes beyond the usual tropes—one that really leans into the pain, the memories, and the kind of love that won’t quit—this book is definitely worth your time.”

  

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Prologue

The rain came down in silver threads and turned the road to black glass on the night that Ethan’s reality was changed forever.

He remembered that more clearly than he remembered his own face from that time. Faces changed in memory. They were smoothed by years and grief until they became something like paintings. But weather remained exact. The smell of wet earth. The sting of cold through wool. The way the world looked when it was nearly dark and every lamp in the distance seemed to float like a warning.

He had been running then from the thing that had already happened to him.

He had not yet learned that becoming a vampire did not feel like entering a new life. It felt like being torn from the old one with enough violence to leave a permanent shape in the soul. At first there had been only pain, then thirst, then a terrifying clarity that came with the hunger. He had not completely grasped what he was but that realization was soon to come.

And because he had understood that, he had run.

He stood now beneath the branches of the elm at the edge of the lane with the rain slipping through the leaves onto his face while he watched the light in his own house glow through the windows.

Home. The word struck him with unbearable force.

Inside, his wife and love of his life, Judith, would be setting down her sewing and folding the blanket over the arm of the chair. She would be waiting for him, although she might pretend not to be. She always pretended not to wait, as if waiting was too revealing a sort of love. But Ethan had always known. He had known by the way that she paused when she heard his footstep and by the way that she turned before he spoke while already smiling.

He’d spent three hours pacing the woods beyond the property line while fighting his own body as if it was a wild animal. His mouth still burned. His throat ached with a need so vast that it felt like a second heart beating where his was supposed to be. He had torn at his own cuff, bitten the inside of his mouth until it bled, and shoved his hands into the mud to keep from running back to the house.

The problem was that he could still smell her….

 

…“Stay where you are,” he gruffly ordered.

Her mouth slightly parted with fear. “You’re frightening me.”

He could not bear that. Not from her.

The room wavered at the edge of his vision. Hunger rose up in him with a vicious, animal certainty. And for one impossible instant he saw her as prey - not Judith, not wife, not the woman who had braided ribbons into her hair and fallen asleep reading beside the fire, but a pulse of life that he could take with one movement.

He stumbled backward.

Judith’s expression changed to alarm as she exclaimed, “Ethan!”

“No!” he bellowed. The word came out raw.

The flame shivered as she set the candle down too quickly and took a step toward him. “Tell me what happened.”

He violently shook his head. The taste of his own blood filled his mouth again, although he knew there was no wound there now. “You must not come near me.”…

 

…When Judith finally spoke, her voice was broken but steady. “Ethan.”

He closed his eyes. “Yes?”

Her voice trembled as she said, “Do not disappear from my life forever.”

That was the moment when he nearly broke. He put one hand on the doorframe to steady himself. When he spoke, his voice was almost gone. “I will try not to.”

Then he stepped out into the rain and left the house before the dawn could find him.

He never forgot the sound of the door closing behind him. He never forgot the way that Judith had stood in the light, frightened and loving and still reaching for him. And for the centuries that followed, through blood, hunger, survival, and loneliness so deep that it became a second skin, he carried one unbearable truth with him - the night he abandoned Judith, he had not yet understood that immortality was not the curse.

The curse was living long enough to remember the exact shape of the love that you were forced to leave behind.

Night Times Book Two

Night Times Trilogy 2

Arabella was supposed to be dead.

After faking her death to escape the vampires who want her gone, Arabella and Ethan disappear into Las Vegas, hoping to build a life free from fear, secrets, and bloodshed.

For six months, they succeed.

Then Olive discovers the truth.

Obsessed with Ethan and unwilling to accept his love for another woman, Olive sets out to destroy everything they've built. As jealousy turns to vengeance, Ethan and Arabella are thrust into a nightmare that will change them forever.

Filled with danger, betrayal, suspense, and immortal love, Night Times: Book Two is a gripping paranormal romance about how far people will go for love—and how deadly obsession can become.

 

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Night Times Book Three

Night Times Trilogy 3

Arabella survived death, but immortality comes with a price.

As she learns to embrace life as a vampire under Ethan's guidance, the memories of her torture and murder refuse to fade. While vampire society struggles to accept her return, Arabella secretly plots revenge against the vampires responsible for her suffering—including the woman who wanted her dead.

One by one, her enemies begin to disappear.

As fear spreads through the vampire community and suspicion grows, Arabella must balance her thirst for vengeance with the future she's building alongside Ethan. But some wounds can only heal in darkness, and some debts can only be paid in blood.

Night Times: Book Three is a dark paranormal romance filled with vengeance, passion, secrets, and a love strong enough to survive death.

 

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Get the Night Times Trilogy Box Set Here!

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Eileen Sheehan is an Internationally published, Best Selling and Award-Winning author of paranormal romance thrillers & horror for the mature adult. A professional and full-time spiritual advisor and holistic practitioner for over 30 years, the majority of her 76+ novels feature the paranormal, but some are novels about people in love, and a very few are self-help. Eileen incorporates experiences through the years along with her imagination to provide the best believable and entertaining read possible. As the years progressed, so has her writing style. Although she still includes romance and strives for a happily ever after ending, her stories tend to have more mystery, thrills, and a touch of horror in them.

A former busy working mother (who is now a laid-back grandmother), Eileen understands the value of time. She makes it a point to write novels that are able to be enjoyed in one or two evenings.

 

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Blog Tour: KILL CODE by Clive Fleury

 

In a world gone wrong, can one man actually make a difference, or will he die trying? 

Kill Code

by Clive Fleury

Genre: Dystopian Science Fiction

 

WHEN THE OCEANS RISE...THE TRUTH DROWNS

It's the year 2031. Our future. Their present. A world decimated by climate catastrophe, where the sun's heat is deadly and the ocean rises higher every day. A world ruled by the rich, powerful, and corrupt. A world where a good man can’t survive for long.

Hogan Duran was a good man once. He was a cop, forced to resign in disgrace when he couldn't save his partner from a bullet. Now Hogan lives on the fraying edges of society, serving cruel masters and scavenging trash dumps just to survive.

But after four years of living in poverty, Hogan finally gets a chance to get back on his feet. He's invited to join the National Security Council, the powerful paramilitary organization responsible for protecting the rich and powerful from the more unsavory elements of society. All he needs to do is pass their deadly entrance exam, and he'll be rewarded with wealth and opportunity beyond his wildest dreams.

But this ex-cop's path to redemption won't be easy. The NSC are hiding something, and as Hogan descends deeper and deeper into their world, he starts to uncover the terrible truth of how the powerful in this new world maintain their power...and just how far they will go to protect their secrets.

In a world gone wrong, can one man actually make a difference, or will he die trying? 

 

Kill Code is the first novel in an exciting new dystopian science fiction series from the mind of award-winning author, screenwriter, and director Clive Fleury. Fans of The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, The 5th Wave by Rick Yancey, and Divergent by Veronica Roth will be captivated by Kill Code. You'll also love this book if you enjoy:

* Dystopian novels and stories

* Stories about futuristic societies

* Stories about disgraced cops

* Stories about unlikely heroes

* Stories about conspiracies

* Stories about injustice

  

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The Station: a seething mass of humanity. Some came with hope in their hearts, ready to embark on the journey of a lifetime. For others, it was the only place they had left to go. They had reached rock bottom. Day or night, the scene was always the same: Transporters arrived and departed constantly, full of people desperate to get away from here, from there, from everywhere. Others wandered around the Station aimlessly. These were the homeless, the addicts, the criminals, the thieves and deadbeats. They spent their time begging or looking for something to steal.

And there was always tension in the air. A fight could break out at any moment as these tired and hungry people reached their wits’ ends and lashed out at the world.

Max and I had been waiting there two hours, which was at least one hour and fifty-nine minutes too long but neither of us minded. I kept reaching into my pocket to pull out the letter and stare at it.

“You’ll wear it out, buddy,” said a smiling Max after I had brought the note out a tenth time. “Just accept it. Next stop: Easy Street.”

I pushed the letter back into my pocket. I still couldn’t believe it. I’d been accepted. That was the good news. The bad news was I knew that this letter only confirmed that I had been chosen for NSC training. It was incredibly difficult to get this far, but even so, only a very few would make it to through to the next stage—to become officers. Frankly, I had grave doubts I could make it that far.

Max tapped me on my shoulder and pointed to a transporter that had just pulled in to Dock 10. It had the word Seattle printed above its windshield. It was Max’s ride. “Okay, Hogan, looks like it’s my time to go.”

I moved behind Max’s wheelchair and pushed it through the seething crowd towards the vehicle. It was, like all public transporters nowadays, driverless. So since there was no one to help, it was up to me to put Max’s ticket into the scanner and to lower him into in his allotted seat. After that, I folded his wheelchair and carried the chair to the luggage rack at the front.

As I finished storing the chair, I spotted an attractive woman in her mid-thirties walk up to Max. I watched as she checked the seat number on her ticket. “That is twenty-two N isn’t it?” I heard the woman say to Max as she pointed to the vacant seat next to him.

Max smiled. “It sure is. And you have the luck to be sitting next to Max Creeling.” He held out his hand. “Great to meet you.”

The woman smiled and sat next to him as I returned.

“Okay, Max, time to go. See if you can get someone to help you with the chair at the other end.”

“I think I can organize that,” the woman said. “I’m Lisa.” She pushed out her hand and I shook it.

“Pleased to meet you, Lisa. Thank you for your kind offer. Now, Max, don’t forget when you get to Seattle to keep out of trouble.”

“Will do.”

I high-fived Max. “Bye. And behave yourself.”

“Always.”

I turned quickly and headed for the transporter’s exit door. Almost as soon as I had stepped down from the vehicle, the door slid shut, the last passenger just managing to squeeze on. As the transporter drove off, Max peered out of the window and winked at me before turning to speak animatedly with Lisa. It looked like he had struck it lucky.

I missed him already.

My transporter would be in next. Dock 20. I started to walk towards the number 20 sign, scanning the crowd for those who were waiting for the NSC Transit transporter like me.

A tall, handsome man in his early twenties stepped in front of me, momentarily blocking my way. I glanced across at him. I knew the type. Dangerous and arrogant but the sort of asshole that women love. In fact, two young beautiful girls were with him: long legs, flowing blonde hair, angelic faces. They were obviously twins.

A commotion came from behind, and a middle-aged, scruffy, worn-down man pushed through the crowd, a rusty shotgun in hand. “Hey, you!” he screamed at the guy with the girls. “Those are my daughters, you son of a bitch.”

The handsome man turned, taking in the man and his gun.

“Really,” he replied. “Then I guess I owe you for raising such lovely pleasure units.”

“They aren’t pleasure units, they’re my girls, and they’re only seventeen.”

“Oh, God…I didn’t know,” the handsome man said, looking shocked. “They swore they were fifteen.” He grabbed one of the teenagers and starting to kiss her passionately.

“You bastard,” the older man said, and raised the shotgun, ready to fire. The handsome man pushed away the girl he was kissing, spun around, and yanked the weapon from the father’s hands in one motion. In an instant, the father was looking down the barrel of his own gun.

“The only reason I don’t shoot you right now is ’cause I’m afraid this rusty piece of shit might blow up in my face.” The younger man cracked the gun open and dumped the shells onto the floor. Then he pulled a gleaming handgun from his trousers and leveled it directly at the father’s head. “This, on the other hand, is in perfect working order. Care to test it?”

The father lunged forward, but I grabbed him, pulling him back. “That’s enough.”

The handsome man stared at me. “Well, thank you,” he said, stuffing his pistol back into his pants. “You should thank him too, Dad,” he said to the girls’ father, “you could have got yourself hurt.” He turned away to look at the girls. “Ladies—it’s been a pleasure. I’m sure you won’t forget your time with Jake Teerman.”

“Bye, Jake,” one of them shouted as she consoled her teary-eyed sister.

The man, Jake, quickly headed towards the transporter that had just pulled up at Dock 20.

“I guess some girls like that kind of thing,” a voice behind me said.

I turned. The woman who’d just spoken was strikingly attractive, with long dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and a button nose. She was dressed in form-fitting jeans and a blue blouse that hugged her shapely body. She carried an antique leather holdall.

She held out her hand. “Ruby Mason.”

“Hogan Duran. Pleased to meet you” I said, shaking her hand and pointing at the NSC Transporter. “You getting on board?”

Ruby smiled proudly. “Yep. And you?”

I nodded and glanced at Jake Teerman, who was climbing up the transporter’s stairs.

“He’s going as well. I thought the NSC was more selective.”

“I guess not,” Ruby said.

***

About a hundred of us were cramped on board. Most were in their late teens and early twenties, mainly young men but with a sprinkling of women. I knew I was an old man by their standards. It was a pretty big handicap, and since Max’s shooting, my confidence had never really returned. Was I up to this? The transporter had been pretty quiet from the start, with only a few talking to one another. That was the sensible thing to do. We didn’t know exactly what our training would involve, and to give too much away about yourself at this stage was not a smart strategy.

Ruby and I hadn’t spoken much, either. I’d told her about me being an ex-cop. She’d told me that she was a waitress who had just been fired from her job. The news of NSC acceptance had been the lifeline she’d needed. To keep the conversation going but avoiding any more personal talk, I pointed at the transporter driver. “Haven’t seen one of those for years.”

“Me neither,” Ruby said.

It was a surprise to both of us. Nowadays, cars and trucks were almost all driverless. When they were first introduced, people had willingly given up their vehicles and relied on driverless taxis to get around. Before long, all trucks had been made driverless, too, and as demand for ‘driven’ cars fell, the industry collapsed: factories closed and workers were made redundant, joining the thousands of professional drivers in the ranks of the unemployed.

The NSC was one of the few employers who kept their drivers on, not trusting the security of driverless vehicles. Onboard computers could be hacked, they reasoned. It was difficult to accomplish, of course, but it was a risk the organization wasn’t prepared to take.

The view from the vehicle was a revelation to me, too, even though as a cop, I had traveled all over the city. In the four years since resigning from the force, the landscape had changed dramatically. I could see the wealthy zones with their well-lit stores, malls, and schools. These were surrounded by rows of affluent suburban homes, some of which had glistening swimming pools in their back yards. Cars shunted along the wide, clean boulevards, and children played happily in the lush green parks. The zones were protected by high steel-mesh fences hung with huge searchlights. Gun-toting guards, walking with vicious-looking dogs on leashes, manned checkpoints along the border.

In contrast, most of the city’s other zones looked like they’d been bombed out. There were no green spaces: the schools were huge, gray, factory-like buildings; the few stores were tiny, temporary structures; and hardly any cars traveled the crumbling roads that often looked impassable anyway. Homes were, for the most part, a mixture of temporary-looking Nissan huts or constructions built out of old wood and corrugated metal sheets.

As the transporter sped on and darkness fell, the signs of decay and dereliction increased. Tents replaced houses and roads became fewer and fewer. When the vehicle finally left what remained of the town and descended from the freeway down onto the open road, the lights inside were dimmed. People slumped back in their chairs, trying to get as comfortable as possible to sleep.

“Night,” said Ruby, shutting her eyes.

“Night,” I said, and did the same.

***

I awoke hours later, my legs aching, my back in pain. I really was getting old.

I stared out and saw that the sun had just started to peek over the horizon. Soon it would be high in the sky, streaming through the transporter’s tinted windows. If I was to die and somehow found myself in purgatory, it would probably look like this: dirty brown wasteland stretching out as far as the eye could see. On the horizon was a mountain range. But these boasted no romantic, snow-covered summits glistening in the sun: just steep, hostile, rocky escarpments layered with brown dust.

Ruby opened her eyes. “Hi,” she said, stretching and pulling herself up.

“Morning.”

Ruby turned to look out the window. She shivered. “Is this Hell?” she asked.

“Sure looks like it.”

“Three more hours,” Ruby said, yawning.

“Yeah, maybe,” I said, peering at the small clock positioned high over the driver’s head. I reached into my pocket for my old flip phone, and then remembered we’d had to leave all electronic gear with the driver. The NSC expressly forbade anyone to carry anything that could be used to reveal where we were going. I doubted if the clock really showed the correct time. It would be too easy to work out where you were from the time traveled.

Ruby gave a start. “Oh my God.” She was staring out the window. I followed her gaze. In the distance, a band of bikers were riding through the wasteland, heading towards the transporter. I recognized them. “Krails,” I said. “I’ve never seen them up close.”

Others on the transporter had seen the Krails, too. They watched fascinated as the gang approached. As they came closer, I could make out the lined, tough faces of the riders. Although all were dressed in the same tight black leathers, some wore black bandanas or had long scarves covering their necks and faces. Many had grown their hair out, letting it fall down to their waist, while others had it shaved off completely. It was hard to tell the women from the men. All looked equally tough, with lined faces browned in the sun.

More than anything else, Krails were proud of their bikes. Despite the dust, each machine had been meticulously cleaned so their chrome and steel handle bars shone. Some riders had bows slung over their shoulders, quivers of arrows hanging from their belts. Others carried long hunting knives stuck into ornate belts, and handguns stuffed into leather holsters. The man on the lead bike looked huge and terrifying. He was bald, and his face was crisscrossed with long scars.

Ruby made a face. “Disgusting. How can anyone live like that?”

“Maybe they ask the same thing about us,” I said as the transporter accelerated away.

Staring back, I saw the big bald man, the Krail leader, raise his hand and indicate the rocky outcrops on the horizon. Pulling his bike around, he started to ride in the direction he’d indicated. The others followed in V-formation.

 

Clive Fleury is an award-winning writer of books and screenplays and has worked all over the world as a Film/TV director, writer and producer. He has written six books, most recently 'All Or None', the second novel in the Detective Ryan Murder Mystery series.

 'All Or None' sees Detective Ryan back in the thick of things. His latest investigation into a mysterious death couldn’t come at a worse time. He discovers his mother is hiding a troubling secret and is further sidetracked by a new romance. Fans of who dunnit's, crime thrillers, and cop and detective stories will love this novel. 

 Clive's other books include 'Off Season' - book one in the Detective Ryan Murder Mystery series; 'Kill Code' - a dystopian science fiction novel set in a world facing climate change;  ‘Scary Lizzy’  - a novel about an eight year old girl, who befriends an African child ghost –  and the teen action adventure book; ‘The Boy Next Door ‘ -  a story of what happens when a teenage girl has a crush on her next door neighbor, who isn’t all he seems.  He also co-wrote ‘Art Pengriffin and The Curse of The Four’ - a young adult fantasy adventure about a teenage boy who discovers his father was Merlin the Magician.

 

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Blog Tour: EBBA'S ENCHANTMENT by Sonja Gunter

 

Chef, Ebba Mignon, is also a witch, or so says her half-sisters 

and has 45 days to find her soulmate and acquire her powers.

Ebba’s Enchantment

The Witch DNA Trilogy Book 3

by Sonja Gunter

Genre: Fantasy Romance, Romantasy, Urban Fantasy 

Spices. Succulent Cuisine. Potioneer.

The clock is ticking.

Ebba Mignon, a naturally gifted chef and owner of The Mignon’s Place, never envisioned partaking in the witchery craft or having half-sisters, Opaline, and Narda. But here she was with only 45 days to find her soulmate/future husband and her witch talents to reveal themselves to her.

How was she expected to accomplish this burden in order to defeat Alyaaluladonati, the ancient one, from killing the three of them?

Neal James, writer for the Best Places to Eat in MN, schedules an interview with Ebba Mignon, in the small town of Onamia. He isn’t prepared for the deep affection he experiences for her or to admire her culinary art skills when they meet.

Believing in the supernatural takes Neal and Ebba on a journey that neither thought possible, transforming their passion into the right ingredients to last a lifetime.

 

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Ebba took the chance to glance at him. He had sunglasses on, which hid his eyes. Would they be blue? To go with his brown hair? Realizing he was waiting for a

reply, she sighed. “My booth is the one with all the people lined up in front of it. Over there to the right.” She pointed in the direction they were walking.

 “Wow. What are you serving?”

 “The same thing I’ve done for the last two years.Subs.”

 The man stopped suddenly. “Subs? That’s it?”

 “Yes. I have only two things on my menu. One is a chopped Italian sub. I bake bread in the shape of a fish and add chopped-up prosciutto, pepperoni, and salami, along with lettuce, onion, tomato, and provolone cheese. I have my own special Italian vinaigrette dressing that I add to it too. The second item is my bestseller, a dill pickle sub.”

 They continued walking toward her booth.

 “A dill pickle sub? Never heard of that or had one before. What is it?”

 “Glad you asked. I use sliced dill pickles that I order from a local Amish woman. The key is to use a small layer of mayonnaise on the pickles. This seals in any leftover juices from the pickle. Then I layer on turkey and prosciutto with cheddar cheese, a tomato, and a lettuce leaf.”

 “Ebba! Hurry up. We need those plates.”

 She waved to Narda, who was signaling to her. “Oh my. We better hurry. The line has gotten very long.” With hurried steps, she directed the man carrying the bin to the back of the booth.

 “It’s about time. Did you see all the people waiting?”

 Ebba looked at Narda. “Be glad we have plates. I almost dropped the bin. This man saved it—and me—from falling.”

 “Where do you want this?”

 She and Narda looked at the man in unison.

 “Oh, sorry. Just set it down there.” Narda pointed to an empty spot on the table. Once he set it down, she opened it and took out a stack of plates. “Thanks for saving my sis. I’ll take these up front and let Opaline know you’ve returned.”

 Ignoring Narda’s sarcastic reply, she turned to the man.

 “Thanks again—”

 “Neal, I’ve been looking for you. I see you’ve met Ms. Mignon. I was setting up the equipment before she left.”

 What the heck? This man, who helped her, was the one and only Mr. James? She’d literally run into him. He’d sent her pulse raging, and she’d had sexual thoughts about

him. His first name was Neal. Could he be the one? Her soulmate?

No, she didn’t have time for this. It was just a coincidence his name started with the letter N. “You’re . . . My goodness, you must think I’m the worst person ever.”

 “I don’t. I didn’t know you were the person I’d come here to meet. Let’s forget about why I’m here. How can Seth and I help you with the crowd of people waiting for food? What can we do?”

 “Do? You want to work?” She hesitated, her mind still reeling.

 “Yes, it looks like two more sets of hands would be helpful.”

 “If . . . you’re sure. I could use your help. First, you both have to wash your hands and put on the plastic gloves. The dill pickle subs are almost gone. And I need to make another batch of ingredients for the chopped subs.”

 “Yes, ma’am,” the two men said.

 Ebba smiled and watched them do the safety protocol procedures for serving food, as she did the same. Taking out the three meats, cheese, and tomatoes from the coolers, she placed them onto the cutting board. Her nerves at Mr. James’s arrival and his offering to help had her doubting herself. The pendant throbbed against her skin.

 “Ready to help. What can we do?”

 His deep, rich voice was sexier in person than on the phone.

 Stop! It was time to concentrate. She had customers to serve. “Okay. Once I have the chopped salad ready, I need you to fill the fish-shaped bread with three scoops. You can start by opening and laying out the bread on the flat pan. While you’re doing that, it will allow me time to whip up some of the dill subs after I finish with the chopped Italian mixture.”

 Within a few minutes, she had chopped the ingredients and added the vinaigrette. She slid the bowl over to the two men.

 “Ebba, we need more subs,” Opaline said.

 Looking up, she saw her sister standing in front of her.

 When had she come over? “Mr. James and his cameraman are just finishing with the next tray of them.”

 “Mr. James?”

 She gave Opaline a look that said, ‘Don’t ask questions.’ “Yes. I ran into him, and he was kind enough to help. I’m working on the dill subs, and then I’ll do up another batch of the chopped Italian subs again.”

 “Narda said he was a looker. I’ve been working on a spell to help you find—”

 “Dear sister, this is not the time or place. Please take the tray of subs up to the front.”

 “Of course. Sorry, but we will talk about it tonight.”

 And just like that, her sister took the tray of finished subs and left. Out of the corners of her eyes, she saw Neal and the cameraman engaged in a conversation. Opaline was right. The three of them were going to have a lot to talk about later. Even now, just hearing his soft voice was rendering her pulse to pound erratically.

 Again, the thought crossed her mind that Neal might be the one that fate had chosen for her. Suddenly, she realized he was staring at her. He smiled, and she nearly crumbled to the ground. With as much control as Ebba could gather within herself, she returned his smile. Was he interested in her?

 

Narda’s Truth

The Witch DNA #2

Angel numbers & scents unearth a truth that has been hidden for years.

 

Reach for the Soap, owner, Narda Hunt, has been receiving signs in the form of numbers telling her she needs to find her half-sisters, Opaline and Ebba. An imminent threat is about to force them to combine their witch powers to survive.

 

One set of angel numbers brings Narda closer to Owin Waters, whom fate has determined is her soulmate. Their special connection sends them to another realm where Narda meets her deceased mother. She reveals the truth behind the special powers that Narda and her sisters possess.

 

With this knowledge, Narda brings to light the evil that is waiting for her and her sisters on their twenty-fifth birthday.

 

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“I’m usually not this forward on a first date—or any date, as a matter of fact—but I would like it very much if you kissed me.”

Owin gathered her closely against his body. “As a gentleman, your wish is my command.”

His sweet and teasing reply didn’t allow her time to respond as his lips touched hers. Then his mouth covered hers, and she opened her lips. Their tongues touched, and shivers of uncontrolled desire racked her body.

She wanted the moment to never end. It did, however, when the sound of a car horn tore them apart. They eyed each other and laughed. It was as if they were teenagers being caught doing something they shouldn’t have been doing.

“Wow. That was some kiss. Did you hear horns too?”

Narda laughed harder. “I think it was more of a beep. I see we have arrived at my new store location. Shall we go in?”

“I’m game if you are. The front window is great for lookers.”

She dug into her purse to withdraw a set of keys and opened the front door. Once inside, she flicked on the lights. Owin followed her inside. Light flooded the open area.

 

Opaline’s Discovery

The Witch DNA Trilogy Book 1

Love. Magic. Danger.

Could these three words articulate distinct spiritual essences to fuse together?

Bookstore owner, Opaline Lunn, facilitates a Speed Dating Event, in hopes of finding her soulmate. She meets attendee Detective Eamon Dayan, who wasn’t looking for love, but sparks fly at their first kiss.

Together they unearth Opaline’s powers which lead to the discovery that she has two sisters, and someone called The Ancient One who wants to kill them.

Unraveling a myriad of mysteries, with Opaline’s newfound ability to do spells, the soulmates must find her sisters by her twenty-fifth birthday to be able to confront the evil force and save all of them.

 

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Now she was waiting for her fourth and final date.

  Eamon.

  Goodness, anticipation is everything.

  She couldn’t believe he wanted to go out with her on a real date. Most guys found her too intellectual. It wasn’t her fault she owned a bookstore and loved to read.  History, fiction, romance, fantasy, sci-fi—it didn’t matter.  Everything was interesting to her. No genre was off limits.

  The buzzer sounded, and she waited for Eamon. He arrived and took his seat. He didn’t say anything. She didn’t either. They sat for a moment, looking at each other, his blue eyes to her green eyes.

  Abruptly, the air surrounding her turned hot, but it wasn’t the kind of hot that made you sweat. It was the kind of sexual intensity that could consume a person, only to let go once it had been satisfied. Opaline fought the urge to fan herself.

  Like a foggy night, the room around the two of them became hazy. Eamon reached across the table and touched her cheek. Her body had a will of its own, and she leaned into his hand, closed her eyes, and waited for him to kiss her.

  “Opaline? Opaline, are you all right?”

  “Wha-what?”

  The room was clear again when she opened her eyes.

 Eamon hadn’t kissed her. She had imagined the kiss. He hadn’t reached out to her. But he was now. He didn’t touch her cheek. like she had envisioned. Instead, he was touching her hand. Until he wasn’t.

  Goodness sakes alive.

  “Sorry. I guess the excitement of the night has gotten to me,” she said, recovering. “Did you ask me something?”

  “No problem. I asked what you like to eat. If we’re going to go out on a date, I’ll have to find a restaurant because I don’t cook.”

  “I haven’t technically agreed to go out with you.” She laughed nervously.

  “I’m not going to let you say no.”

  “Oh, is that how it’s going to be?” Opaline reached across the table and took his hand. “I guess I don’t have a choice, then. Yes, I would like to go out with you.”

  “Great. Does tomorrow night work for you?”

  “You do work fast,” she said, lowering her voice, which came out in a low silvery tone.

  “Only when I need to.”

  She knew he was implying other things, and she smiled again, wishing he had kissed her.

  The buzzer ended their date, and Opaline stood. Most of the other attendees had finished their dates too. “I hate to rush things, but I need to wrap things up for the event.”

  “If you would like, I can help you with the cleanup,” Eamon said.

  “That’s so thoughtful, and here I was thinking you only liked to give the orders.”

  She saw by the way his head tilted to the side that her reply had caught him off guard. He looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and he was having a hard time coming up with a comeback. He mustn’t be used to word games like her customers at the bookstore were.  They usually gave it right back to her. Eamon, on the other hand, was still at a loss for words.

  “Yes, I’d love your help. I have to stick around until everyone leaves. I’ll make an announcement to let them know what time we have to be out of here. Then I can—no, we—can start.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll round up my sister to pitch in too,” he said.

  Opaline heard him chuckle and wondered if he had offered his sister’s help without her knowledge.

I was born and raised in the cold and beautiful Minnesota, but I escaped to Illinois for seventeen years to raise my two boys, and now I call Florida home. My husband Andy, who’s always been my hero, has put up with my late night computer typing and endless stacks of papers with my stories on them. We have one furry friend as family: Chip, a sixteen year old ragdoll cat.

Life has been full of ups and downs, but I’ve made it through the hard times. I love to travel and go to Disney World to trade pins.  I’ve been a bowler for many years, and you can catch me writing my next novel at the lanes.

I encourage you to check out my web site, www.sonjagunter.com for more info and don’t be surprised if I let my Norwegian heritage come through in my stories.

Go Vikings! You betcha!

 

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