by Tiffany Allee
Genre: Paranormal
Romance
Publisher:
Entangled Publishing (Ignite)
Release
Date: December 30, 2013
Length: Novel
About the Book:
Visions of death haunt her . . .
Ava Keller sees the future. When she suffers a horrifying vision of a man's violent death, she knows from experience nothing she does will stop it from becoming a reality. But when she meets a strong, broken man, he makes her want to believe in second chances.
Ava Keller sees the future. When she suffers a horrifying vision of a man's violent death, she knows from experience nothing she does will stop it from becoming a reality. But when she meets a strong, broken man, he makes her want to believe in second chances.
Vengeance consumes him . . .
Tortured by his past, Karson has worked tirelessly to wreak vengeance on the demons who murdered his family. But when Ava inadvertently disrupts his intricate plan for revenge, his focus shifts to an all-consuming need to keep her alive and in his arms.
Tortured by his past, Karson has worked tirelessly to wreak vengeance on the demons who murdered his family. But when Ava inadvertently disrupts his intricate plan for revenge, his focus shifts to an all-consuming need to keep her alive and in his arms.
Love could save their souls . . .
Thrown together by fate, Ava and Karson explore their new feelings and discover hope for the future. But they must battle the demons threatening humanity to find a destiny worthy of their love.
Excerpt:
I’ll grab my first-aid kit,” I said.
Karson looked like he wanted to argue, but I didn’t wait around long enough to see if he would. Instead, I slipped out of the room and walked down the short hallway to the lone bathroom in my apartment before he could open his mouth. I grabbed the kit from under the sink, and then leaned against the counter and took a moment to suck in a few deep breaths. A fiery death. A sexy scary dude with tattoos. A man who melted into nothing. This was so far removed from the almost-ordinary world I’d known the day before.
Karson had a sour expression on his face when I returned.
“Is this Cherry Pepsi?”
“Coke. Don’t insult me. Pepsi is gross.”
“This is gross.”
“Take your shirt off.” My face immediately flushed with heat. Had I ever ordered a man to take his shirt off before? Pretty sure that was a negative. I dropped the first-aid kit and it thudded against the coffee table. I went and grabbed a set of latex gloves from the box I kept under the sink. Last thing I needed was for a vision to hit while I was trying to treat the man’s wounds. I think I’d just give up at that point. Even though the idea of touching him, feeling my skin sliding against his, was definitely appealing.
Karson had pulled off his jacket by the time I emerged from the kitchen, and the sight of him stopped me in my tracks. He’d turned so his back was to me, and I could see exactly why he wore a long jacket in early June. Beneath his jacket, he’d hidden a shoulder holster. Against his hip was a long knife, still sheathed. He wore a black T-shirt, ripped and bloody. Clawed. The rips went from his belt line and halted at his leather gun holster.
He pulled off his knife and gun, then set them on the couch on top of his jacket. The shoulder holster was next. He pulled off his T-shirt, and I gasped.
Tattoos covered his shoulders and upper back. They were like, everywhere. I looked closer. No two symbols appeared to be exactly the same and with their complex arrangement, they were surprisingly beautiful. I’d seen small ones trailing down his arms, but had mistaken them for wanna-be tribal designs. These were different, and I could see now that the ones on his arms were different, too. Symbols rather than pictures, and all etched in black ink.
He peeked at me over his shoulder, eyebrow quirked as if asking me silently if I liked what I saw.
I licked my lips.
“Any day now.”
The low growl in his tone roused me from the half trance that staring at the designs covering his back had put me in. I turned my attention to the scratch marks.
“Scared I have cooties?” he asked after I pulled the gloves on.
The teasing in his tone almost made me drop the peroxide bottle. Who knew the man could tease?
“Scared you have another arsenal hidden in your pants.” Oh, damn. That wasn’t what I meant. “I’m just not big on touching.”
He hesitated, as if processing what I’d said. “I’m tempted to make a joke about you touching the arsenal in my pants, but it seems too easy.”
Amazon | B&N | iTunes | Kobo
About the Author:
CPA-turned-romance-author Tiffany Allee used to battle spreadsheets in Corporate America, and now concentrates on her characters’ battles to find love. Raised in small-town Colorado, Tiffany currently lives in Phoenix, AZ, by way of Chicago and Denver. She is happily married to a secret romantic who tolerates her crazy mutterings. She writes about ass-kicking heroines and the strong heroes who love them. Her work includes the suspense-driven From the Files of the Otherworlder Enforcement Agency series which revolves around a group of paranormal cops solving crimes and finding love, and Don’t Bite the Bridesmaid, a lighthearted paranormal romance (Entangled Publishing). Tiffany has an MBA in accounting and nearly a decade of experience in corporate finance.
Thrown together by fate, Ava and Karson explore their new feelings and discover hope for the future. But they must battle the demons threatening humanity to find a destiny worthy of their love.
Excerpt:
I’ll grab my first-aid kit,” I said.
Karson looked like he wanted to argue, but I didn’t wait around long enough to see if he would. Instead, I slipped out of the room and walked down the short hallway to the lone bathroom in my apartment before he could open his mouth. I grabbed the kit from under the sink, and then leaned against the counter and took a moment to suck in a few deep breaths. A fiery death. A sexy scary dude with tattoos. A man who melted into nothing. This was so far removed from the almost-ordinary world I’d known the day before.
Karson had a sour expression on his face when I returned.
“Is this Cherry Pepsi?”
“Coke. Don’t insult me. Pepsi is gross.”
“This is gross.”
“Take your shirt off.” My face immediately flushed with heat. Had I ever ordered a man to take his shirt off before? Pretty sure that was a negative. I dropped the first-aid kit and it thudded against the coffee table. I went and grabbed a set of latex gloves from the box I kept under the sink. Last thing I needed was for a vision to hit while I was trying to treat the man’s wounds. I think I’d just give up at that point. Even though the idea of touching him, feeling my skin sliding against his, was definitely appealing.
Karson had pulled off his jacket by the time I emerged from the kitchen, and the sight of him stopped me in my tracks. He’d turned so his back was to me, and I could see exactly why he wore a long jacket in early June. Beneath his jacket, he’d hidden a shoulder holster. Against his hip was a long knife, still sheathed. He wore a black T-shirt, ripped and bloody. Clawed. The rips went from his belt line and halted at his leather gun holster.
He pulled off his knife and gun, then set them on the couch on top of his jacket. The shoulder holster was next. He pulled off his T-shirt, and I gasped.
Tattoos covered his shoulders and upper back. They were like, everywhere. I looked closer. No two symbols appeared to be exactly the same and with their complex arrangement, they were surprisingly beautiful. I’d seen small ones trailing down his arms, but had mistaken them for wanna-be tribal designs. These were different, and I could see now that the ones on his arms were different, too. Symbols rather than pictures, and all etched in black ink.
He peeked at me over his shoulder, eyebrow quirked as if asking me silently if I liked what I saw.
I licked my lips.
“Any day now.”
The low growl in his tone roused me from the half trance that staring at the designs covering his back had put me in. I turned my attention to the scratch marks.
“Scared I have cooties?” he asked after I pulled the gloves on.
The teasing in his tone almost made me drop the peroxide bottle. Who knew the man could tease?
“Scared you have another arsenal hidden in your pants.” Oh, damn. That wasn’t what I meant. “I’m just not big on touching.”
He hesitated, as if processing what I’d said. “I’m tempted to make a joke about you touching the arsenal in my pants, but it seems too easy.”
Amazon | B&N | iTunes | Kobo
About the Author:
CPA-turned-romance-author Tiffany Allee used to battle spreadsheets in Corporate America, and now concentrates on her characters’ battles to find love. Raised in small-town Colorado, Tiffany currently lives in Phoenix, AZ, by way of Chicago and Denver. She is happily married to a secret romantic who tolerates her crazy mutterings. She writes about ass-kicking heroines and the strong heroes who love them. Her work includes the suspense-driven From the Files of the Otherworlder Enforcement Agency series which revolves around a group of paranormal cops solving crimes and finding love, and Don’t Bite the Bridesmaid, a lighthearted paranormal romance (Entangled Publishing). Tiffany has an MBA in accounting and nearly a decade of experience in corporate finance.
All super useful stuff for a writer who spends far too much time trying to
figure out fun ways to keep her characters apart, and interesting ways to kill
people (for her books—of course!).
Author Contacts:
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