Prologue Reveal: Cursed, by N. Isabelle Blanco

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CURSED
by N. Isabelle Blanco
Release Date: January 12th

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Blurb:
“They sent you here to kill me, but that’s not what you’re here to do. You’re here to own me . . .”

I let my blood hit that contract—thought it was a joke. 

Later, I convinced myself it was a hallucination.

Truth is, I sold my soul.

“I awoke surrounded by death. It wasn’t long until I realized it’d all been by my hand . . . and my teeth.”

They call themselves The Bestowers. 

They’ll give you the world, but it’ll come at a price.

And before they send their assassins after you, they’ll bring out the monstrous darkness within. 

You’ll kill and destroy every bit of the gift they gave you, leaving nothing behind in your wake. 

My time is up and they’ve chosen their most dangerous murderer to end my miserable life.

“I dreamt of her before I met her. I saw her. Tasted her. She’s a stain on my insides I can never erase.”

Her destiny isn’t to kill me, but she will own my soul. 

I would’ve been better off dying by her hellish flames.

 

cursed

 

Prologue:
In case you haven’t realized by now, my life is a sad, sad mess.

How did I get here, you ask?

I sold my soul to an ancient voodoo priestess.

Or so I thought.

Sounds like the beginning of a worthless, B-rated script.

Doesn’t it?

Hah. Just wait. It gets worse. Alice’s rabbit hole doesn’t have shit on mine.

See, the priestess might’ve been ancient, but I was high off my fucking ass. I was always high back in those days; it was my only way to get by.

Easy to tell myself I imagined that entire night—the odd woman that approached me, her ability to see the rotting pain in my soul. How she offered me everything I could’ve ever wanted, a deliverance from the life I didn’t ask for.

How, according to her, all I had to do was “sign” on the dotted line . . . Or, in the name of complete transparency, press my bleeding thumb to the bottom of an old-fashioned, text-filled parchment.

I told you this crap sounds like imagined garbage. Except, I did it. I convinced myself I didn’t.

Shortly thereafter, my life changed in ways I could’ve never envisioned. Ten years down the line, it’s changing once more—a bad acid trip that’s about to become ten times worse.

The only way I can help you make sense of it—hell, the only way I can begin to truly understand it—is to show you.

Step one: my suicidal idiocy.

Step two: the dark hole it’s about to lead me to.

And the incarnation of fire and damnation that’s waiting for me at the bottom of that pit.

 

, : https://www.nisabelleblanco.com/exclusive-content

(Link can also be found on  @nisabelleblanco profile)

 

 

About the Author: 
N. Isabelle Blanco is the Amazon Bestselling Author of the Allure Series, the Need Series with K.I.Lynn, and many others. At the age of three, due to an odd fascination with studying her mother’s handwriting, she began to read and write. By the time she’d reached kindergarten, she had an extensive vocabulary and her obsession with words began to bleed into every aspect of her life.

That is, until coffee came a long and took over everything else.

Nowadays, N. spends most of her days surviving the crazy New York rush and arguing with her characters every ten minutes or so, all in the hopes of one day getting them under control.

Sign up for the newsletter at http://bit.ly/NIBsignup to be the first to know how all these arguments turn out :) 

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Book Blitz: Blood Winter + Excerpt

RELEASE BLITZ BANNER 11.44.06

Book Title: Blood Winter

Author: S.J. Coles

Publisher:  Pride Publishing

Release Date: December 29, 2020

Genre/s: Contemporary M/M Paranormal/Vampire Romance

Trope/s: Forbidden love, enemies to lovers, stuck together, rural romance

Themes:  Healing, belonging, finding acceptance, alternate reality

Heat Rating:  4 flames  

Length: 71 797 words/ 266 pages

There is a sequel planned.

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Buy Links

Pride Publishing  |   Amazon US  |   Amazon UK  

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Vampires are attempting to integrate into human society.

When Alec MacCarthy first meets a ‘haemophile’ in the flesh, it’s not the obvious dangers that frighten him.

 

Blurb

Alec MacCarthy, Lord of Aviemore and largely-forgotten descendent of a once-proud family line, keeps the wolf from the door of the crumbling family mansion by restoring classic cars.

He leaves the real world alone and wishes nothing more than for it to return the favor. But in a reality where haemophiles—still colloquially known as vampires, despite the publicity campaigns—have come out of hiding and are attempting to integrate into human society, the real world is rapidly becoming a disrupted and conflicted mess that threatens to trouble even Alec in his remote Scottish hideaway.

When he unwittingly attends a Blood Party to please a friend, he has his first meeting with one of these mysterious and dangerous beings. Terje is like nothing he has ever encountered before…literally. His reactions are as troublesome as they are undeniable.

Alec’s snap decision to help the haemophile rather than sample his sense-heightening and addictive blood sets them both on a path that will lead them into a tangled web of intrigue with consequences that will change their lives—and the world—forever.

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of violence, murder, kidnapping, blood stealing, drug use, addiction and blood drinking.

blood winter

 

Excerpt 

“You have questions.” He sat and uncorked the bottle. The electric lantern made his pale skin glow. It shone off his high cheekbones and the lines of his neck. His mouth was soft, his lips slightly curved, even at rest. I remembered it open, redder than blood, the teeth shockingly white and sharp. I remembered his hands, strong enough to crack the wood of the basement door, strong enough to break Brody’s bones. But now he sat easily in my kitchen chair, regarding me steadily with calm, entrancing eyes. He was terrifying, but he was beautiful, like a freezing winter morning in the very heart of the mountains. I bridled at the thought and dropped my gaze to the tabletop. 

“How old are you?” I heard myself ask.

“Not old enough to have known Jacob More,” he said, with something like amusement in his voice.

“That’s not an answer.”

He still didn’t smile but something like humor flickered in the dark depths of his eyes. “I don’t know exactly. Over eighty, less than a hundred.”

“How do you not know how old you are?”

He lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “You stop counting after a while.” I narrowed my eyes and his mouth twitched. “And, well…at the time, it wasn’t considered important where I’m from.” His brow creased slightly, his eyes far away. “I remember the Second World War but not the first. Do I get to ask a question now?”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, regarding him closely and trying not to think about the fluttering in my belly. “What question?”

“Is this really your home?”

“Why?”

He tilted his chin slightly. “I knew you must live here when we arrived. I could smell it. But the place looks like it belongs to someone else.”

Something prickled over the skin of my back. “Again, why do you care?”

“Just curious, like you.”

“I’m not curious about you,” I said in tight voice. “That’s not what this is.”

He inclined his head. “Very well. You don’t have to answer. Next question?”

I picked at a splinter on the table, not looking at him. “Daylight…”

“What about it?”

“Does it kill you?”

“No.”

“Then why—?”

“The cellar?” He sipped his wine. His mouth was stained slightly pink. I hurriedly lifted my gaze. “We have to sleep, just like you do.”

“During the day?”

“We’re sensitive to sunlight,” he said slowly, factually. “We don’t produce melanin in the same way, so we burn easily. And it’s hard to see.”

“So you just…sleep?”

He frowned at his glass. “Not the way you sleep. The Blood requires us to…offline. Recharge.”

“Could you stay awake if you wanted? During the day?”

“Yes, though it’s hard. But the Blood wakes us if there’s a threat. Is it my turn now?”

I hesitated and reached for the other glass. “I thought you said you were supposed to answer my questions.”

“Polite conversation normally goes both ways.”

I fought a scowl. “We’re not exactly meeting at a dinner party here.”

“No,” he said softly, looking into the fire. “But that’s not my fault, is it?”

 

 

About the Author

S.J. Coles is a Romance writer originally from Shropshire, UK. She has been writing stories for as long as she has been able to read them. Her biggest passion is exploring narratives through character relationships.

She finds writing LGBT/paranormal romance provides many unique and fulfilling opportunities to explore many (often neglected or under-represented) aspects of human experience, expectation, emotion and sexuality.

Among her biggest influences are LGBT Romance authors K J Charles and Josh Lanyon and Vampire Chronicles author Anne Rice.

 

Author Links

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