Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Two Princes: The Biker and The Billionaire by Victoria Danann




Two Princes: The Biker and The Billionaire
Sons of Sanctuary
Book 1
Victoria Danann

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Publisher: 7th House Publishing,
Imprint of Andromeda LLC

Date of Publication: June 16, 2015

Number of pages: 300
Word Count: 90,000

Cover Artist: Victoria Danann

Book Description:

Brigid Roan is a graduate student at the University of Texas. She had no trouble getting her thesis approved, but finding a Hill Country motorcycle club willing to give her access to their lifestyle had started to seem impossible. Then she got a lead. A friend of a friend had a cousin with ties to The Sons of Sanctuary.

What she wanted was information to prove a proposition. What she didn’t want was to fall for one of the members of the club. Especially since she had set out to prove that motorcycle clubs are organized according to the same structure as primitive tribal society.

Brash Fornight was standing in line at the H.E.B. Market when his world tipped on its axis. While waiting his turn to check out, his gaze had wandered to the magazine display and settled on the new issue of “NOW”. The image on the cover, although GQ’d up in an insanely urbane way, was… him.

After reading the article, Brash threw some stuff in a duffle and left his club, The Sons of Sanctuary, with a vague explanation about needing a couple of days away. He left his Jeep at the Austin airport and caught a plane for New York, on a mission to find the guy who was walking around with his face.

Two brothers, one a player, one a playboy, are on a collision course with destiny and a woman who thought she won a prize when she was allowed a look inside the Sons of Sanctuary MC.

Available at Amazon  BN   Kobo   iTunes

Excerpt:

“Sir?” Brash Fornight gradually became aware that someone behind him in the grocery checkout line was trying to get his attention. “Sir?” He refocused and glanced behind him. The woman leaning on a cart overflowing with chip bags and cookie boxes nodded toward the cashier indicating that it was his turn to move forward. Brash looked her in the eye and had to give her props. Most people wouldn’t have the balls to try to herd a guy wearing Sons of Sanctuary MC leather.
The club employed a woman who cooked and did grocery shopping several times a week as part of her job description, but Brash didn’t like to explain his relentless craving for peanuts and he liked being teased about it even less. He didn’t know whether it was the Vitamin B or the fat or just because he liked the taste, but he couldn’t imagine going a day without them.
That’s how he came to be standing statue still In the grocery checkout line, being prompted by some woman with more nerve than sense. While he was waiting, his eyes drifted over the magazine display and settled on the cover of “NOW”, on the Most Eligible Bachelor edition no less. The debonair figure staring back was wearing Brash’s own face and body. He looked different with short hair and a four thousand dollar suit with the shirt fashionably open at the neckline, but the similarity was inescapable.
On impulse he grabbed the magazine and tossed it onto the conveyor belt with his week’s stash of peanuts.
He stuffed the bags into the saddlebags of his bike and roared toward home, nervously tapping his fingers on handlebars at red lights, riding on shoulders to keep from slowing down. He was anxious to get to the privacy of his own room and read about Branach St. Germaine.
Two beers, one jar of peanuts, and one “NOW” article later, Brash was sitting on the edge of his bed looking at the wall, seeing nothing but his own heavy thoughts. He pulled out his phone, looked up a website, and waited on hold for ten minutes to hear the time of the next flight from Austin to New York.

There was a flight to Newark in a little over three hours. He looked at his watch and calculated the time it would take to drive from Dripping Springs at that time of day. As he booked the flight, he stood up, walked to the small closet, grabbed a duffel bag, and began shoving stuff into it. Ten minutes later, he closed his door and locked it, threw the duffel over his shoulder, and headed straight for the office downstairs. He dropped the duffel on the hallway floor beside the closed door and knocked.
“Yeah?” Brash looked inside, glad that his dad was by himself, and stepped in. “What’s up?”
“I’m takin’ personal time, Pop. Gonna be gone for a couple of days.”
“What the hell is ‘personal time’?”
The gruffness made Brash smile. “It means I’m not gonna be here if you call and I’m not tellin’ you why.”
The Sons of Sanctuary President looked up at Brash, over the top of his readers, and narrowed his eyes. “You got a secret?”
“Everybody’s got secrets.”
Brandon Fornight studied his son for a minute. “True enough. Is it the kind of secret that could affect this club?”
Brash shook his head. “Don’t see how.”
“Well, then. See you… When did you say you’d be back?”
“I didn’t.”
“Bein’ purposefully vague, are you?”
Brash grinned. “That’s why they call it personal time. But I expect to be back Friday.”
“You gonna have your phone with you?” When Brash nodded, Bran looked back down at his ledger in a deliberately dismissive gesture. “Well, get outta here then.”
Brash parked his bike in the airplane hangar. The structure had already been on the property when the club had bought it and turned it into a compound twenty years earlier. They used part of it for vehicle maintenance and repair and part for parking.
Some of the guys who were working looked over and shot curious glances his way when Brash threw his duffel into his pickup and started it up, but it wasn’t their way to ask questions. The Sons figured that if somebody wanted you to know something, they’d tell you.
Brash took a cab to a midtown hotel, wondering all the way why human beings would choose to live in such a place. As he slid his credit card across the hotel counter to the agent on duty, he glanced at the name, Brandon Fornight. It seemed unlikely that it was a coincidence that that the mysterious look-alike’s first name began with the same four letters. He ordered room service and pulled out his laptop.
Getting intel on the guy didn’t take advanced ops. Within an hour Brash knew where Brannach St. Germaine worked, what kind of car he drove, what kind of women he dated, who his tailor was, and where he liked to dine. There was no shortage of photos online, but the one that grabbed his attention wasn’t one of the many with starlets or debutantes on his arm. It was the one taken with his arm around his mother as they were arriving together for some red carpet fundraiser. Brash had an almost irresistible compulsion to reach up and touch her face on the screen in front of him.
The knock on the door signaled that room service had arrived. It cost a fortune, but looked and tasted like shit. So he closed the computer and went out for a walk to clear his head and find something edible.



About the Author:

USA Today Bestselling Author, Victoria Danann, is making her debut into Contemporary Romance with releases in May and June 2015, after taking the world of PNR by storm.

Her Knights of Black Swan series won Best Paranormal Romance Two years in a Row (2013, 2014). ~Reviewers Choice Awards, The Paranormal Romance Guild.

Victoria’s paranormal romances come with uniquely fresh perspectives on “imaginary” creatures, characters, and themes. She adds a dash of scifi, a flourish of fantasy, enough humor to make you laugh out loud, and enough steam to make you squirm in your chair. 

Her heroines are independent femmes with flaws and minds of their own whether they are aliens, witches, demonologists, psychics, past life therapists, or financial analysts from Dallas. Her heroes are hot and hunky, but they also have brains, character, and good manners – usually – whether they be elves, demons, berserkers, werewolves, or vampires.

The first book of the Knights of Black Swan Paranormal Romance Series, My Familiar Stranger, was nominated for Best Paranormal Romance of 2012 by both Reviewers’ Choice and Readers’ Choice Awards. All of her books have opened on the Amazon Best Sellers list and earned Night Owl Reviews Top Pick awards.

Many have appeared on Listopia Book of the Month as #1 across all genres.

For books published in 2013, Black Swan won three awards.

1. Best Paranormal Romance Series
2. Best Paranormal Romance Novel – A SUMMONER’S TALE

3. Best Vampire~Shifter Novel – MOONLIGHT.

In 2014, Solomon’s Sieve won Best Vampire Novel.

If you’re interested in me personally, I am also a classically trained musician who defected to Classic Rock and that’s my first love. Yeah. Even more than writing.

This is Roadhouse, the very best in Classic Rock, taken near The Last Concert Cafe, Houston Texas, 2011. I was the utility player which means I played rhythm guitar, keyboards, sang backups and a few leads.





@vdanann

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Blitz and Giveaway: Lady of the Flames by Barbara Monajem





What inspired you to become an author?

Reading, of course! From the first day of first grade, I loved reading. Then, when I was eight years old, I started writing a story at school about apple tree gnomes. The teacher loved what I’d written so far. I was very shy, and her comment freaked me out so much that I wrote a bad ending so she wouldn’t compliment me again—that was safer than doing my best and coming up with something mediocre. But that was when I knew I wanted to write.

Do you have a specific writing style?

You’ll have to ask my readers. I write in deep 3rd person point of view most of the time (with the occasional foray into 1st person), but apart from that I can’t describe my style except in very general terms. There’s lots of dialogue and action and not much description. I don’t know how to write comedy, but if humor just happens to nose its way in, I’m delighted and keep it there. 

Do you write in different genres?

Yes, unfortunately, because this makes it difficult for me to establish an author ‘brand’, which they say matters a lot. I write two kinds of Regencies – with and without magic – and also wrote the Bayou Gavotte series, which are paranormal romance/mystery. And then there’s that first person mystery I’m working on. I don’t seem to be able to stick to one thing at a time.

If yes, which is your favorite genre to write?

How can I possibly choose? I love them all.

How did you come up with the title for your latest book?

With a great deal of pain and much help from others. I’m terrible at titles. 

Do you title the book first or wait until after it’s complete?

See the above answer. My placeholder titles are usually pretty blah, such as the hero or heroine’s name (which sometimes changes in the course of the book, but the placeholder may stay the same. No point exchanging one dumb title for another).

Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?

I don’t plan around a message, but so far they all say something like “Love conquers all” or “Love is the greatest magic” or “Be yourself and love will follow.” Sappy stuff, but that’s romance for you.

When you’re not writing what do you do? Do you have any hobbies or guilty pleasures?

Read, cook, eat, sleep… I used to do a lot of knitting and crocheting, but since I started writing seriously, I never seem to have the time. Succeeding at making socks is on my bucket list, but at this rate I’ll never manage it.

What is next for you? Do you have any scheduled upcoming releases or works in progress?

Coming up next is a Regency (without magic) called To Kiss a Rake, which will be out on July 29th. It’s a marriage of extreme inconvenience for both hero and heroine. Here’s the blurb:

WHEN A LADY IS ABDUCTED BY MISTAKE…

Melinda Starling doesn’t let ladylike behavior get in the way of true love. She’s secretly helping with an elopement, when she’s tossed into the waiting coach and driven away by a notorious rake.

REVENGE REALLY DOESN’T PAY.

Miles Warren, Lord Garrison, comes from a family of libertines, and he’s the worst of them all—or so society believes. When Miles helps a friend to run away with an heiress, it’s an entertaining way to revenge himself on one of the gossips who slandered him.

Except that he drives off with the wrong woman…and as if that wasn’t scandalous enough, he can’t resist stealing a kiss.




Lady of the Flames
A Most Peculiar Season
Multi Author Series
Book Three
Barbara Monajem

Genre: Regency Paranormal

Date of Publication: March 23, 2015

ISBN: 978-1508426240
ASIN: B00T0JAWLO

Word Count: 61,800

Cover Artist: Jane Dixon-Smith

Book Description:

Magic is fraught with peril—but so is love.

Lord Fenimore Trent’s uncanny affinity for knives and other sharp blades led to duels and murderous brawls until he found a safe, peaceful outlet by opening a furniture shop—an unacceptable occupation for a man of noble birth. Now Fen’s business partner has been accused of treason. In order to root out the real traitor, he may have to resort to the violent use of his blades once again.

Once upon a time, Andromeda Gibbons believed in magic. That belief faded after her mother’s death and vanished completely when Lord Fenimore, the man she loved, spurned her. Five years later, Andromeda has molded herself into a perfect—and perfectly unhappy—lady.

When she overhears her haughty betrothed plotting treason, she flees into the London night—to Fen, the one man she knows she can trust. But taking refuge with him leads to far more than preventing treason.

Can she learn to believe in love, magic, and the real Andromeda once again?

Available at    

Amazon     Amazon UK    Amazon Canada


Kobo    BN   iTunes

Excerpt:

Setup: After learning of a treasonous plot, Andromeda fled into the London night to get help from Lord Fen, the man she once loved. They’re now having breakfast the next morning.

Years ago, Andromeda had felt no need to talk when with Fen, but now it was uncomfortable, like conversing with a stranger. Then, they’d had more in common; now they lived in different worlds. She took a sip of coffee and ate a sausage roll. She sipped some more coffee. She gazed around the room and finally found something to say.
“Did you carve the figures on your looking-glass frame?” she said. As a boy, he had whittled constantly. “They seem so…familiar somehow.”
“They should,” he said with a sudden smile. “I carved it from my memories of the fairies and hobgoblins back home.”
“Fairies and hobgoblins?”
“At your father’s estate,” he said. “Surely you remember Cuff the bedchamber hob, and Heck the buttery spirit, and all the rest.”
“My mother told stories about them,” Andromeda said, nostalgia filling her again. “I must say, I like the way you’ve imagined them.”
Fen frowned at her, his smile fading, his eyes perplexed. “I didn’t imagine them,” he said. “I saw them.”
Andromeda rolled her eyes. “That sounds like something my mother would have said.”
“Because she saw them, too.”
Andromeda began to be annoyed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Fen. She made up stories based on tales she’d been told as a child.”
Fen shook his head. “You saw them when you were small. You saw Cuff and Heck and the others. We both did.”
“No,” Andromeda said. “We saw movement out of the corners of our eyes and said they were fairies, but we were just playing games.”
Fen’s expression was pained. “You really don’t remember, do you?”
“There’s nothing to remember,” she insisted, wolfing down another cream puff. “As a matter of fact, that happened to me this morning. I had the impression that one of the creatures on the looking-glass winked at me, but of course it didn’t really do so.”
“What a pity,” Fen said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That you’ve forgotten. That wink was Cuff’s way of saying good-day to you. He’s somewhere hereabouts. He’s the only one I didn’t have to carve from memory, because he came with me when I left home.” He glanced toward the tin cup and plate by the wall. “He ate the bread and milk I put out, and I gave him the rest of your brandy, too.”
She couldn’t stand any more of this. “Fen, stop this nonsense! We’re in danger from traitors and spies who murder people, and all you can talk about is hobgoblins.”
He went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “I wondered why he came with me when I left, but it’s because he enjoys human company.” He grimaced. “Your father and aunt aren’t his sort of humans. I thought you were, and so did your mother, but evidently you’re not.”
That struck her like a blow. “What do you mean, my mother thought I was. Was what?”
“She had a sizeable amount of fairy blood, so she thought you must have some, too—but perhaps she was wrong.” He paused. “I know I have some. It’s not uncommon for children to see fairies, but I didn’t lose that when I grew up. Not only that, it’s their magic that guides my knives and tools, and inspires me when it comes to furniture design.”
She couldn’t bear it. “Stop it! You’re as—as mad as my mother was.”
“She wasn’t mad, Andromeda.” He sighed. “And whether or not you see the fairies, they’re still here.”
She put her hands to her ears and shut her eyes. After all the chaos of yesterday, this was too much. When he said and did nothing, she opened her eyes again. “Why did she discuss me with you?”
“Who else was there to speak to? Your father and aunt, although worthy people, wouldn’t have understood. They already found her far too strange.”
This was true—but it was because Mama’s mind was unbalanced.
“She knew I cared for you,” Fen said.
His eyes were kind but dispassionate; his use of the past tense meant that he didn’t care anymore, except perhaps as an old friend. Why couldn’t she become accustomed? Every single reminder hurt.
“You believed in them at the time your mother died,” he said. “She gave you that heart-shaped locket, didn’t she?” It still hung at her breast, but she resisted the urge to clasp it in her hand.
“I was nine years old. I believed in many foolish things then,” she retorted. Such as magic, but a household run by her aunt was no longer vibrant with promise or belief in anything much at all. And then, when she was seventeen, Fen had destroyed what little belief remained. She didn’t try to keep the bitterness from her voice. “I learned soon enough what utter nonsense it all was.”
He watched her, head cocked to one side, as if she were some strange, incomprehensible creature. “As a matter of interest, when did you stop believing?”
How dare he ask such a personal question? “What business is that of yours?”
“None, I suppose.” He shrugged and stood. “Stay away from the windows. I’ll see if my valet has found you something to wear.” He took the last of the beignets, set it on a saucer, and left it on the floor by the wall.
As if prying into her business wasn’t enough, now he was mocking her. Did he seriously expect her to believe that a hobgoblin would eat the beignet? Anger stirred and grew within her. “If you must know, it was at the same time I gave up other foolishness, such as believing in love!”
Fen stared at her, his expression incredulous. He left the room, slamming the door behind him.
By what right was he upset? Not content with playing stupid games with her, did he really not remember what he’d done to her five years ago?

About the Author:

Award-winning author Barbara Monajem wrote her first story at eight years old about apple tree gnomes. She published a middle-grade fantasy when her children were young, then moved on to paranormal mysteries and Regency romances with intrepid heroines and long-suffering heroes.

Barbara loves to cook, especially soups, and is an avid reader. There are only two items on her bucket list: to make asparagus pudding and succeed at knitting socks. She knows she can manage the first but doubts she’ll ever accomplish the second.

This is not a bid for immortality but merely the dismal truth. She lives near Atlanta, Georgia.





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Monday, June 8, 2015

Interview and Giveaway with Charmaine Pauls






Please share a little about yourself, your genres, and any other pen names you use.

First of all, thank you for having me on the blog. I am South African by birth and besides the African continent, have also lived in Europe and South America. A gypsy by heart, I love to travel and explore new territories, which I often use as backdrops for my books. One of my all-time favorites settings is Easter Island with its gigantic moai. My favorite genre is romance, especially with paranormal and gothic elements that are off the beaten track.

Tell us a little about your latest or upcoming release.

Loving the Enemy is the prequel to the Seven Forbidden Arts series. It doesn’t contain any of the paranormal arts of the other books, but provides the background for the overall series, specifically aiding in placing the antagonist, Godfrey, who only features in the eight and last book. This novel is classified as an erotic action romance. It is fast-paced and full of adventure.

Are you a mom?

I am the proud mommy of a six- and nine-year old who speak a mixture of Afrikaans, French, English and Spanish.

If yes do you find it hard to juggle writing and parenting?

Writing is a time-consuming and solitary occupation, hence it is always hard to fit into a family life when you are a fulltime mom. On top of that, inspiration has no manners. It will interrupt you in the middle of dinner, or while on holiday. I try to keep a healthy balance in terms of my time. When I am with my children, I am fully present and focused on the moment, and when I am writing, I enter into that world until I close my door on my study for the day.

Have you ever based your book or characters on actual events or people from your own life?

Even though all of my stories are fictional, I do use behaviors or events from every day life to fuel my writing. It is like having a hundred pieces of fabric of different shapes and colors, and sowing them into a sequence that will form a unique quilt. It is a dash of Jack and a pinch of Jill, stitched together with the threads that I pull from my frame of reference, where I process my experiences and memories.

What would your readers be surprised to learn about you?

I am scared to death of water. To overcome my fear, I did no less than three scuba diving training sessions that lasted for several weeks spread over several years. I dived in the Maldives, Durban, Plettenberg Bay, Mosselbay, Sodwanna Bay, Knysna, Mozambique and Egypt, and to this day I want to faint before I hit the water.







When you’re not writing what do you do? Do you have any hobbies or guilty pleasures?

I love photography. As a journalist I needed the skill for my occupation and completed three advanced college courses. That skill grew into a hobby, and I ended up taking wedding and social photographs for some friends and family. When we travel, the first thing I pack is my camera.



Of all the characters you’ve ever written, who is your favorite and why?

I love Jacob from Loving the Enemy. He was a very cooperative character who didn’t give me a hard time penning him down. His dialogue came to me clear and easy. He is straightforward, strong-minded, loyal, fierce and gentle at the same time. He was just so much fun to be around. I adored Josselin from Pyromancist, the first book of the series, too. In comparison to Jacob, Joss is haunted and dark, and no less dangerous. And Lann from Aeromancist… *Sigh* He made my knees weak whenever he removed those Prada glasses and spoke to me in his Russian accent.

If this book is part of a series…what is the next book? Any details you can share?

The next book features the Russian aeromancist, Lann, and the woman he couldn’t stay away from. I introduced Katherine and Lann in a novella of 130 pages (Aeromancist, The Beginning) as the prequel to Book 2 of the series. Lann is always in control. He never loses his temper or allows lust to rule his mind. Until Kat walks into his private library of antique, hand-written books. Hunted for his forbidden art to manipulate air, Lann cannot offer any woman a future. The best he can give Kat is a month of the best sex of her life. But he has no way of knowing the devastating price his desire will cost her when she agrees to his terms. Aeromancist (Book 2) is due this summer!

What is next for you? Do you have any scheduled upcoming releases or works in progress?

For the next three years the Seven Forbidden Arts series will be my focus. Loving the Enemy (Prequel), Pyromancist (Book 1), and Aeromancist, The Beginning (Prequel to Book 2) have been published this year, with Hydromancist (Book 3) scheduled for September. Another three books should see the light in 2016, with the last two following in 2017.


What book are you reading now?

I have just finished The Bad Girl by Peruvian author Mario Vargas Llosa, and am now reading a book by one of my writers group members, Mary Judith Ress, titled Blood Flowers. It is the story about the life of a nun during the fall of Salvador Allende in Chile and the dictatorship of Augusto Pinochet that followed.


Loving the Enemy
Seven Forbidden Arts
Prequel
Charmaine Pauls

Genre: Erotic Action Romance

Date of Publication: 8 May 2015

ISBN: 978-0-620-65578-1
ASIN: B00W224OHY

Number of pages: 258
Word Count: 71 000

Cover Artist: Adara Rosalie

Book Description:

If your father is a powerful criminal, you can’t trust anyone, especially not the stranger who saves you.

Lily is on the run for her father’s sins. Having escaped a brutal attack on her home that left her dad’s small army and her beloved nana dead, she finds a job and a cheap room in Camps Bay, South Africa. When the men from Sky Communications track her down, she’s forced to flee again. This time, Lily ends up homeless, alone on a bench under a brewing winter storm in a violent city. It’s a lucky coincidence that Jacob appears through the mist just before a gang finds her in the dark, deserted park. Or is it?

After offering Lily shelter for the night, Jacob’s flat is destroyed in an explosion. With Jacob’s help, Lily tries to locate her father in search of his protection. In a whirlwind escapade from Africa to France, danger always a step behind, Lily learns about desire, love, survival and trust. Eventually, she’ll also learn about betrayal … and the truth about the savior to who she gave her body and heart.

This novel is a prequel to the Seven Forbidden Arts series, but reads as a stand-alone. There are no cliffhangers.

* This book contains frequent, consummated love scenes and explicit language. It is recommended for an adult audience.



Available at Amazon

Chapter One

Mist rose from the ground in the dark park on Green Market Square, enveloping Lily Reid up to her knees. She shivered on the bench under the yellow spotlight of a lamppost. Heavy clouds moved in front of the moon. The loss of light should have made the South African night blacker, but in Cape Town, the evening sky always had an artificial glow that reflected the vastness of the manmade illumination below.
            A searchlight reached up from afar, a beam cutting wedges into the heaven. Another crime had been committed somewhere. Another trespasser was being chased. Lily clutched her backpack to her chest. It held her meager possessions–a change of clothes, a passport, a flashlight, a toothbrush, and her empty purse.
            The brittle winter air penetrated her denim jacket and jeans. A sudden gush of wind shook the leaves around her and bent the treetops low. Its iciness told her it came from Table Mountain’s side. Biting her nail, she considered where to shelter from the imminent storm. Already she could smell the earthy odor that served as warning of the rain. Soon, the city would be drenched and howling with gale force winds. The shopping malls were locked at night, and the train stations were too dangerous. She’d be gang raped and have her throat slit in no time if she didn’t find someplace safe.     
            It was hopeless. She couldn’t even protect herself from the rain. But the real problem wasn’t the rain. It was her inexperience at being homeless. Today was only her seventh day without a roof over her head. So far, she managed to hide her embarrassing status. During the day she pretended to be just another girl walking somewhere with purpose. She barely fed herself by stealing leftovers from street café tables. At night, she washed under a garden tap and slept behind the bushes in the park. She had no means of contacting her dad. For safety reasons, he never left a number or an address when he traveled to Europe. She had tried her stepmom, who lived in the States, but the phone had been disconnected. That meant her dad knew about the attack. He had warned his wife, and she had disappeared. As long as she was on the street, hiding and running for her life, her dad had no way of finding her. There was no one else to turn to. Adam, her stepbrother, had left with her dad. Going to her only friend would only put Clara’s life in danger.
            Since the armed attack on her home that had forced her to flee two months ago, she had managed to find work as a waitress in Camps Bay and a room to rent in an old lady’s house. It hadn’t taken long for the men from Sky Communications to find her. They showed up at the restaurant, dressed in civilian clothes instead of the habitual blue uniforms, but she recognized the blue-green globe tattoo on the back of their necks. Luckily, she was late for her shift that day, and saw them through the window before they noticed her. Once again, she had to run.
            How did they find her? The only explanation she could come up with, was that they monitored her identity card. She couldn’t use it any longer. Without an ID, it was impossible to get a job. Her looks counted against her. Everyone always said she looked younger than her eighteen years. No one was going to risk employing a minor.
            It had all started with the visit of a man who possessed a supernatural power. Paranormals were everywhere, these days. But this was something new. Stronger. Scarier. His name was Lupien, and he wasn’t a vampire or shifter or werewolf. He was a firestarter. She knew her father was somehow involved with paranormals and acquiring shares in communication companies, and that Sky Communications, her dad’s major competitor, was unhappy about it. So unhappy, that they were willing to kill. Her only chance at survival was running, and hoping that they’d never catch up with her. Now she just had to figure out how to stay safe and warm and fed … without any money.
            The fog seemed to roll in thicker from the sea, the fragrance of salt mixing with the musty odor of the rain. Her nails had turned blue. Cold was a constant part of her now, as was hunger and fear. She deposited the backpack next to her and sat on her hands in an attempt to warm them. She tried to think. When her fingers started to go numb from the weight of her legs, she buried her hands under her T-shirt. Maybe she could hide in a twenty-four hour McDonalds. But she had never walked through the city alone, didn’t even know where the fast food restaurants were. At home, there was always a chauffeur to drive her wherever needed. Still, she couldn’t stay here. It was better to walk until she found a bridge or alcove not already inhabited by other homeless people or the gangsters the city was known and feared for.
             About to get up, the crunching of gravel set her heart racing. A man appeared on the path, his body manifesting through the fog. Lily snatched up her bag. It was too late to run. He was already too close. Hugging her backpack tightly, she sat dead still. If she didn’t move, maybe he’d walk past. She ducked her head. Her heartbeat sped up when the footsteps slowed. Two black boots stopped in her line of vision. She looked up, taking in the black jeans and parka. Tall with a broad chest, the man stared down at her. His head was tilted to the side, his dark hair falling over his brow. In the light of the lamppost she could make out his eyes. The irises were a very pale green, making them seem to glow against the dark tan of his skin. His face was angular; the lines of his high cheekbones and straight nose hard. There was nothing soft about his features, except for the long lashes that framed his eyes. The kind of handsomeness that defined him was rugged, giving his appearance a rough edge. It was the kind of bad-boy look that should make a woman run. It was downright dangerous. But his expression wasn’t menacing as she expected. It was curious.
            “Hey,” he said in a deep voice, “are you all right?”
            Lily cleared her throat. “Yeah.”
            He glanced at the sky, but instead of saying something about the weather, he said, “It’s not safe, you know, for a young woman out here alone.”
            She started bouncing one leg. “I’m waiting for someone. He,” she made sure to put emphasis on the male gender, “will be here soon.”
            “I can wait with you. I’m not in a rush.”
            “No,” she said quickly, “that won’t be necessary.”
            The man seemed to hesitate, but then said, “Fine. Be careful.” He carried on toward the exit.
            Lily swallowed her sigh of relief when he stopped, turned and walked back.
            He pulled a hand through his hair. “I can’t just leave you here like this. It’s cold, and it’s going to rain. Not to mention what could happen to you.”
            “Please,” she begged, “just leave me alone.”
            The man crouched down so that they were on eye level, resting one arm on his knee. “I don’t know what kind of trouble you’re in, but I promise you, staying here is only going to make your problems bigger.”
            Lily kept her hands from shaking, but inside she trembled. She shouldn’t trust anyone. “Go away, or I’ll scream.”
            He sighed. “You’re right not to trust strangers. In fact, that’s good. It’s a good philosophy to keep safe.” A fine drizzle started falling. The man looked at the sky again and straightened. “I’m Jacob. Jacob Miller. What’s your name?”
            “Just go.”
            “Not until you tell me your name.” When she looked away, he said, “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to help.”
            What difference would telling him her name make? She only wanted him to leave her in peace. “Lily. Now go.”
            “Lily. That’s pretty. Look, Lily, I know a girl in trouble when I see one. You’re not waiting for anyone, and you’re not going anywhere, and we both know it. I live nearby. It’s nothing fancy, just a small flat, but you’re welcome to stay there for the night. It’s dry and warm.”
            People who offered favors wanted something in return. “Thanks, but as you said, I don’t know you. Please, leave me alone.”    
            “I can’t. I won’t be able to live with my conscience if I walk away, leaving you here on your own.”
            She turned her head back slowly to study him. In a crime-riddled city, it wasn’t normal for anyone who valued his life, big muscled guy or not, to roam the streets after dark. “Why are you walking alone through the park at night?”
            He threw his thumb over his shoulder. “Had two beers at the pub up the road. Since I’m over the limit, I had to leave my car there. In my kind of business, I can’t risk being caught. I’ll lose my business license.”
            Public transport was non-existent in Cape Town at night, except for the minivans that taxied in and out of the dangerous townships, and the train that connected the city to the outlying towns. Even if his explanation was believable, his presence still made her nervous. She knew better than to go home with a stranger. She shook her head, about to tell him so, when raucous laughter sounded from a short distance. Lily tensed.
            Unfazed by the nearing voices, Jacob said, “Will it make you feel safe if I invite a female friend over to stay with you?”
            Before she could answer, four men appeared from behind the trees on the green lawn. When they spotted Lily and Jacob, they stopped.
            “Hey,” one of them said, jamming his friend in the ribs, “check that out.” He pointed in Lily and Jacob’s direction.
            The four fell quiet. Slowly, they made their way to the bench. As they entered the circle of light, Lily noticed they were young, maybe even younger than she was. There were two white guys, a black man, and a colored kid. They each held a bottle of beer.
            One of the white guys stepped forward, his head cocked. His black leather jacket glistened with raindrops. His eyes trailed over Jacob. “You.” He lifted the hand that clutched the beer and pointed at Jacob. He wore a gold watch with a big face and a chunky ring with a black onyx. “I’ll have your phone and your wallet.” His gaze turned to Lily, cutting a path over her. His lips pulled back in a grin. “And the girl.”
            His friends snickered. Lily held her breath, her heart beating in her throat.
            Instead of showing fear, Jacob turned to the men and said in a flat voice, “You have three seconds to get out of here.”
            The guy with the gold watch sneered. He went down on his haunches, and when he slammed his bottle down on the ground, Lily jumped. The sneer turned into an ugly smile as he slowly straightened, lifting the broken bottle by its neck like a weapon. The others had dropped their bottles and pulled knives. They were taking up attack positions. The soft drizzle continued to sift down on them, but Lily hardly noticed. Her attention was focused on the broken shard of glass shining brown like a sepia portrait in the washed-out lamppost light.
            “Four against one?” Jacob said with a glint in his eyes. “You’re a pack of cowards.”
            “Come on,” the man with the broken bottle said, “show us what you’ve got.” His tongue flicked over his lower lip. “I’m going to do you first, and then make you watch as I do your pretty little girlfriend.”
            Jacob chuckled and shook his head. A rivulet of water ran down his temple. Without removing his eyes from the men, he reached behind his back, under his jacket, and pulled out a gun. The minute he waved the weapon at their attackers, the four men started to back up.
            “Knives on the ground,” Jacob said.
            They dropped their weapons in the dirt.
      “Whoa, man,” the colored guy said, “take it easy.”
            Jacob kicked the knives away. He pointed at the pine trees next to the bench. “On your knees. Over there, by those trees.”
            “I’ve got a family,” the black man said, hiding behind his hands, shuffling toward the nearest tree.
            When they were kneeling on the gravel, Jacob said, “Two against each tree, on opposite sides. I want you hugging those trunks.”
            “What the fuck, man?” the guy with the gold watch said. “You want me humping a stump?”
            Jacob’s boot collided with his side, causing him to grunt. “Keep up the back-chatting and I’ll have you strip, too. Grab your buddy’s hands, nice and cozy.”
            The man swore, but pushed his face against the bark and reached for the hands of his crony who was kneeling on the other side of the tree. With the size of the trunk, it was a stretch to grab each other’s wrists. Lily watched dumb-founded, frozen in shock, as Jacob took a bundle of tiebacks from his back pocket. The minute his intention became clear, the blond guy farthest away from Jacob lifted to his feet.
            “Jacob!” Lily shouted, pointing at the man who launched into attack.
            He only took one step before Jacob pulled the trigger, the bullet shooting up dust next to the man’s shoe. The blond stopped and lifted his hands above his head.
            Jacob clicked his tongue. “Damn. I missed. I was aiming for your knee.” He pointed the gun at the man’s leg.
            “No. No.” The man pinched his eyes shut and cowered. “Not my knee.”
            “Back to your tree, there’s a good dog,” Jacob said.
            The man scurried back, fell to his knees, and wrapped his arms around the pine.
            “Lily,” Jacob said, “come here.”
            Lily couldn’t move. She could only stare at Jacob, the scene triggering the horror of a different attack she couldn’t forget.
            “Lily,” he said with a firm, but gentle voice, “I need you to come over here, sweetheart.”
            His tone of voice got her attention. She looked between him and the men. They were outnumbered. If she didn’t help him, they were both dead. She got to her feet and made her way to Jacob on shaky legs.
            “That’s it, sweetheart. Good girl.” When she stopped in front of him, he said, “You’re going to tie their wrists together with these.” He handed her the tiebacks. Her fingers trembled when she took the plastic cords from him.
            “Start with him.” Jacob nudged the man with the gold watch with the tip of his boot.
            Lily worked as fast as her cold hands allowed. Jacob made it easy, treating her like a small child, commanding one simple step at a time–‘move over there’; ‘put the cord around their wrists’; ‘pull it tight now’–until all four pairs of arms were secured. The men scoffed and swore, pulled at their restraints, and spat on the ground. With a satisfied nod, Jacob pushed the gun into the waistband of his jeans, and covered it with his parka. He walked to the bench, picked up Lily’s bag and wordlessly offered her his hand. The men shouted outraged threats and obscenities.
            Looking at his outstretched arm, Lily said, “What about them?”
            Jacob shrugged. “They’ll be discovered tomorrow morning when the park cleaners come on duty.” When Lily still hesitated, Jacob said, “You can’t stay here. The city’s crawling with scum like them.”
            Still shaking, Lily walked to Jacob and placed her hand in his. If he wanted to attack her, he would have done so by now. He led her a distance away from the men, until they were out of earshot, and pulled a smartphone from his jacket pocket. He flicked his finger across the screen.
            “Kyle’s a good friend. She lives nearby. She can stay with you at my place tonight.”
            It was raining harder now. Lily’s clothes were soaked, and her feet freezing in her trainers. His proposal was becoming more attractive by the minute. He had protected her, and risked himself to do so, but could she trust him? It wasn’t unusual for people to own firearms in Cape Town. Most people carried them for self-protection from the brutal attacks that took place around every corner. But the tiebacks were downright weird.
            “You have a gun. And tiebacks,” Lily said, voicing her thoughts.
            “Regarding the gun, I’m in the security business. I have a legal license and I know how to use it responsibly. As for the tiebacks, I’m doing DIY at home. I just happened to be shopping at the hardware store this afternoon before I met a buddy in the pub.” He chuckled. “Can’t say they didn’t come in handy.”
            “How do I know this isn’t a set-up?” she said. “You can pretend to be calling your friend but talking to no one. Or it could be someone else.”
            He put his phone in her hand. “Ask her yourself.”
            Lily stared at the screen. The name that showed above the number was for Kyle Fords. The phone was already ringing and a reply came from the other end of the line, loud enough for them both to hear.
            “Hello, Jacob,” a perky, female voice said. “What’s up? Isn’t this way past your bedtime?”
            Lily glanced back at the cold, dark park. It was either that, or Jacob’s place. Surely, he wouldn’t have offered to invite his friend if he had sinister intentions. Slowly, she brought the phone to her ear. She couldn’t believe she was doing this.  “Um … hi, this is Lily. I’m using Jacob’s phone. He said I could call you to…” She glanced at Jacob.
            He gave her an encouraging nod.
            “To ask if you could go to his place, and spend the night there. With me.” She frowned and pinched her eyes shut. “That came out all wrong. Not with me, like in…” When she opened her eyes again, Jacob regarded her patiently. “It’s nothing like that. I mean…” She paused. This was hard to say. “I’ve got nowhere else to go, and I don’t know Jacob.”
            She flushed at her admittance of being homeless, but also at the bluntness of her words. Jacob seemed like a considerate person, and she felt bad for insinuating that he could be a rapist or serial killer.
            “Wow, okay.” Kyle gave a laugh that sounded as uncomfortable as what Lily was feeling. “That’s a first. Er, yes, all right. Fine, I guess.”
“Thanks,” Lily mumbled, casting her eyes down.
            Jacob took back the phone. “Hey, Kyle. Thanks for agreeing. Lily doesn’t know me, so another female presence will help her feel more at ease. We’re five minutes away from my place. We’ll wait outside. Oh, and bring some dry clothes.”
            After disconnecting the call, Jacob put his phone away and shoved his hands into his pockets. He lifted his shoulders to his chin and dipped his head. Drops clung to his lashes.
            “Shall we go?”

            Despite the fact that he was now soaked because of stopping to help her, his lips curved with the ease of someone who smiled a lot. It made it easier for her to give a small nod. She wrapped her arms around her waist under her jacket, and followed Jacob down the path to the road.

About the Author:

Charmaine Pauls was born in Bloemfontein, South Africa. She obtained a degree in Communication at the University of Potchestroom, and followed a diverse career path in journalism, public relations, advertising, communications, photography, graphic design, and brand marketing. Her writing has always been an integral part of her professions.

After relocating to France with her French husband, she fulfilled her passion to write creatively full-time. Charmaine has published six novels since 2011, as well as several short stories and articles.

When she is not writing, she likes to travel, read, and rescue cats. Charmaine currently lives in Chile with her husband and children. Their household is a linguistic mélange of Afrikaans, English, French and Spanish.


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