2 Things today. THE UNDEPARTED IS FREE,AND Im being spotlighted


BOOK ONE in the Undeparted Series.

Cassandra is trying to figure out if she was actually bitten by a vampire and whisked away to his castle or if it was a very vivid dream, one which has left her to contemplate her own sanity.

Unknowingly, she is the only mortal to resist the vampire's bite and capture the heart of the most powerful vampire that ever existed; the one who began the entire race of the undead, Quentin Castle.

For ions Quentin has felt nothing but the lust for blood. But Cassandra has awakened something in him that he had forsaken a millennium ago; he is determined to win this beautiful woman by mortal means rather than by the vampire's bite. But will he be able to suppress his natural instinct? Will he be able to prove to the skeptical Cassandra that he is a vampire and not an imposter, a wannabe? What hideous thing will he do to prove that he is a vampire, prove that he isn't using some kind of parlor trick, some Houdini magic, and that he is the real thing?

As evidence mounts on Quentin's behalf and she can no longer deny her encounter was real and not a dream, will Cassandra be able to resist his evil charm and convince her boyfriend, police officer Mike Lapp and best friend Lucy that vampires really do exist and she's being stalked by one?

To expedite their liaison, Quentin devises a scheme to blackmail Cassandra by setting up her boyfriend for a murder he didn't commit. Cassandra must surrender herself to Quentin for her boyfriend's sake and wait for Mike to scale the walls of the vampire's castle and rescue her. But when her boyfriend arrives, she's in for the shock of her life. People are not always what they seem to be.

Cassandra pulled into her driveway and parked.  The headlights of her car made eerie shadows on the bushes nearby. She grabbed the two bags of groceries from the trunk and headed towards her front door. She pressed her key into the lock and moved inside.  Before she could put down the grocery bags and flip on a light, a brute hand smacked her across the face and flung her across the room.  Her bags went flying in the air, landing next to her on the floor. Stunned and hurt, she didn't move. There was a terrible stinging on her cheek from his onyx ring.

Suddenly a light came on, and right before her stood this guy with mean, dark eyes. Her body went cold with fear.  Before she could gather a rational thought, he lunged at her with lightning speed and sank his pointed teeth into her neck. She felt strangely weak; almost paralyzed. It was as if he was draining her of her life force; removing her will power.  Nothing in her self-defense class prepared her for this scenario.  Could it be some horrible dream?

After a few minutes, he withdrew from her, satisfied.  He licked his lips and could taste the essence of her life on his mouth.  He had an exalted expression on his face, almost as if biting her was a religious experience.  He was pleased with her dark hair and loved how it cascaded gently across her neck and framed her ivory skin. A droplet of blood laid on the blue collar of her button down shirt.

Cassandra laid there dazed, but somewhere in the dreary recesses of her mind she was aware of his frightful presence and those dark eyes glaring at her.  Too weak, temples throbbing, her heartbeat slow and erratic, she couldn't muster the strength or desire to drive him off.  When her head finally cleared, she realized the pain he had inflicted had ceased. But this terrible dread moved through her body and settled in the pit of her stomach. 

She understood that she had to get out of there.

She looked up at her attacker through frightened eyes. At the moment he was calm and collected; not at all like the man he was minutes - or was it hours ago?  His eyes were still intense; something about them weakened her, but she could resist. Slowly she rose; her mouth was dry with fear.

"My boyfriend will be here any minute; he's a police officer and –"

"Your boyfriend works Tuesday nights.  He won't be home until seven tomorrow morning."

Her eyes widened.  "How do you know that?"

"I've been watching you, and you didn't even know it; did you?"

"Just get out and leave me alone."

He glared at her, almost with glowing eyes. She felt a trickle of blood on her neck.  He moved toward her and laid his hand on her shoulder. Should she run?  Could she even get away from him if she tried?  Should she slug him and hope he'll go down?

"Whatever you're thinking," he began, "you'll forget it and do what I tell you; understand?"

She shrugged off his hand and dashed into the kitchen.  She grabbed a dirty iron skillet from the stove and froze. She could see him coming towards her. A dimly lit lamp mounted on the wall by the table cast angry shadows over his face.

"Stay away from me!"

He kept coming; approaching her with this strange look on his face. The pan in her hand was shaking from fear.

When he reached her, she swung the iron skillet, but missed him.  She swung it a second time, and whack, right on his cheek. One would think he would go down hard or at least wince in pain, but he was unharmed, undaunted.  No ordinary man could endure the weight of an iron skillet smashing across his face.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, bitch?" he asked, frowning.

"What the hell are you doing?" she replied.

He had never, absolutely never come across such an obstinate, strong willed woman before.  "Look into my eyes," he commanded. "Put the pan down and follow me."

 She began waving the skillet again in a threatening gesture.  This time, he wasn't going to allow her to hit him; not because he was afraid of being hurt, but because he was consumed by a rage that such a woman would dare defy him after he bit her. Suddenly he lunged at her with brute force, knocking the skillet from her hand onto the ceramic floor. A struggle ensued, but she was no match for him. He drew on his inner strength, and with one mighty blow, knocked her out cold.

When she woke up, she found herself being carried from a dark colored BMW up large steps to a heavy oaken door that led to a Gothic mansion meticulously maintained. Was it a blue BMW?  What was the license plate number, she wondered, as Mike would need it to catch this creep, if she ever got out of there alive, that is.  She couldn't catch the number.

She was ushered through the grand foyer, through a gilded archway, and into a mahogany-paneled library where elegant statuary sat on shelves. Behind an antique desk sat a handsome man, dark haired and elegant and behind him were drapes of green silk at the windows. "Quentin, I brought a friend home," the kidnapper said of Cassandra.


1 comment:

  1. Congrats on the spotlight. Thank you for the great review on this book. I am dying to start reading them all. And thank you for sharing.