IMMORTALS series
Dorchester
ISBN 0505527685
ISBN13 978-0505527684
Release: March 2009
Pre-Order IMMORTALS:Reckoning
Blood Debt by Joy Nash
Jackson Cabot's bright future went dark in 1896 Paris, when he died and was turned vampire. After three decades of slavery in the service of Europe's brutal vampire master, Jackson discovered a secret that has allowed him to hoard power. Now, at last, his strength approaches that of his rival, and he exists solely to take vengeance on the two beings responsible for his eternal nightmare: the monster that turned him vampire -- and the beautiful Sidhe muse who killed him.
Wolf Hunt by Jennifer Ashley
Werewolf Logan must race to save the beautiful demon Nadia from his own pack.
Beyond the Mist by Robin T. Popp
Haunted by her past and reeling from her sister's murder, Jenna Renfield takes a cruise hoping to have a little fun – and escape the company of sexy, but obnoxious spirit walker, Dave Runningbear. Almost from the start, the cruise turns out not to be what she expected – prickles of death magic, ghostly wailing in the night and an creepy albino stalker. When Jenna realizes her life might be in danger, she’s more than happy that Dave followed her on board the cruise ship and turns to him for help, hoping they can both escape with their lives when the ship carries them "Beyond the Mist."
REVIEWS
4 Stars! "In this lovely visit back to the Immortals world, we get new stories and characters with cameos by old friends. Even if you haven't read the series, you can enjoy these fine tales. -
In Ashley's "Wolf Hunt," LAPD cop Logan has been keeping an eye on the beautiful demon Nadia since he helped rescue her six months ago. Now she's being hunted again, this time by his old pack leader -- and Logan's got a strong protective streak.
Species are star-crossed again in "Blood Debt," when Nash directs vampire Jackson Cabot into the path of sidhe Leanna, who left him for dead a century ago. He ended up worse than dead -- a slave to master vampire Armand Legrand. Now he's back in Paris to kill Legrand -- and no love muse is going to deflect him.
We go "Beyond the Mist" in Popp's tale of spiritwalker Dave Runningbear and repressed witch Jenna Renfield's encounter with Poseidon's ghost ship. Jenna must free herself from the prison of her guilt to escape, and Dave must protect her." - Romantic Times Reviews
EXCERPT
Jenna moved as if in a dream and when Dave slowed their dancing until they were barely moving, she raised her head to look at him.
He was staring down at her, his eyes lit with heated intensity. He slowly lowered his head and she couldn’t look away, couldn’t move. She was mesmerized, eager to feel the touch of his lips against hers.
How long had she waited for this moment? Too long.
Then an image of Dave kissing Tiffany came to mind, quickly followed by an image of Dave kissing Mandi and Donna and Patricia and…
The list went on and on and now, at the bottom, would be her name.
She pulled out of his arms, shaken. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t do this.” She heard the panic in her voice and wasn't surprised when Dave gave her a questioning loo k. She couldn’t possibly explain, so she didn’t try.
With a muttered excuse, she hurried from the room. Worried that Dave would follow, she quickened her pace and reached the elevators just as the doors were starting to close. Squeezing through, she relaxed a little, knowing that she had the length of this elevator ride to be alone and pull herself together before facing Dave again. He had no doubt caught one of the other elevators and was following her back to their room.
She closed her eyes and tried to think. She must be crazy to even consider getting involved with Dave. It would be fabulous while it lasted, but what happened when he lost interest? Watching him with other women was already so hard. It would be a constant reminder that she’d not been anything special, just one more in a long line.
The elevator doors opened and Jenna stepped out. She’d rounded the corner before noticing she was on the wrong floor. Disgusted with herself for not paying attention, she went back to the still open elevator and pushed the correct button for her floor.
The doors remained open. Jenna pressed the button again, but with the same lack of results. She selected another floor, but nothing happened.
Frustrated, she got off and tried to call another elevator. None would come.
Forcing herself not to panic, she decided to go look for another bank of elevators, maybe at the far end of the ship. Or perhaps she could find stairs leading up to the next floor. She started down the passageway, noticing that unlike the rest of the ship, the interior here looked old and worn. It was almost as though she'd slipped through a time warp. Ancient globe lanterns gave off dull yellow glow whose erratic flickering created shadows that jumped about on the walls.
From the end of the passageway, behind the only door, she thought she he ard the sound of voices. Anyplace there were people was better than where she was now. Maybe they could help her get back to her floor.
She started toward the sounds and as she got closer, what she’d first mistaken as singing took on a mournful quality.
Dave’s theory of the South American slavery ring came back with harsh clarity, turning the sounds into cries of pain.
Fear pulsed through her veins. She was not a brave woman, but neither would she turn her back on people in need. Moving as silently as she could, she neared the door. She was almost to it when she noticed a prickling across her skin like thousands of roaches were crawling over her. Magic.
Nervous, she looked around. She was still alone in the passageway. She took hold of the door handle and exerted the slightest pressure. She expected to meet the resistance of a locked door and was surprised when it opened easily.
So much for the theory that there were captives on the other side. She wanted to laugh for letting her imagination run away with her. It was probably nothing more than a storage room.
Still, some sixth sense cautioned her to proceed slowly. She eased the door open just a crack, barely wide enough to see through, then she peered through the slim opening.
She fought to stifle her horrified gasp. What she saw made no sense.
Dozens of dirty, emaciated men and women sat in pairs down the length of a large room. Dressed in rags, each one gripped a large wooden pole with both hands. The pole stretched out horizontally with one end extending through a hole in the side of the ship.
She was trying to understand why no water was pouring in through the holes when a shrill whistle sounded, causing her to jump. At the sound, the men and women leaned forward, pushing their poles before them. At the next whistle blast, the men leaned back, this time pulling the poles toward them. The whistle sounded again and again and each time, the men and women moved as one, forward, backward. Forward. Backward. Over and over.
They were rowing, Jenna realized with shock. The sound of grating metal drew her gaze to the chains securing the steel cuffs around each person’s ankle to ring-bolts on the floor.
Someone gave an angry shout, startling her. She stepped back, ready to make a run for it, but no one came. Daring to push the door open a hair wider, she saw a large man sauntering up and down the aisle between the rowers, blowing the whistle and shouting for them to “row harder.” In one hand, he carried a large whip which, from time to time, he cracked indiscriminately against the back of a man or woman. The staccato sound reverberated loudly and was followed by the rower's tortured cry of pain. It was this sound that had first drawn Jenna's attention.
Horrified, she backed away, not even bothering to close the door. Soon she was racing back down the passageway toward the elevators, her heart hammering.
She pressed the call button several times, as if that would make the elevator come faster. At any second, she expected to see the man with the whip suddenly appear behind her. The ding announcing an elevator’s arrival startled her. As soon as the doors opened, she rushed inside – only to slam up against something tall and hard. Fingers gripped her arms like iron bands and when Jenna looked up, she saw Conrad’s familiar white hair - and screamed.
“Jenna. Calm down. It’s me.” Dave’s voice pierced through her cries and she stopped fighting long enough to take another look at who was holding her.
“Dave?” Her relief was so great, she moved into his arms, feeling safe within their shelter. “I’m so glad to see you.” In her fright, she’d mistaken the elevator’s dome light, which from her angle of looking up, seemed to be sitting on top of his head, as Conrad’s white hair.
“What are you doing down here?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I must have pushed a wrong button, but wait until you hear what I found.” She quickly told him about the magic and the room of prisoners. When she was done, she waited for him to tell her she was mistaken.
“Show me,” he said, stepping out of the elevator with her before the doors could close.
Feeling more confident now that he was with her, she led him to the passageway and gestured to the door at the end. “Behind there,” she whispered.
Dave moved past her toward the door. The deafening silence should have struck her as strange, but her attention was focused on the door. It was still ajar, just as she’d left it.
Hanging back a little to give him room, she waited breathlessly as he peered through the opening. Time seem to drag as she watched for his reaction.
After a minute, he glanced at her. “You’re sure this is the right place?” he whispered.
She nodded, too afraid to make any noise.
Before she could stop him, Dave grabbed the knob and pulled open the door. Jenna gasped as adrenaline shot through her system. She didn’t know if she should get ready to fight or run for her life.
But the room was empty.