The wonderful and ever so talented, Fiona Jayde, has made yet another wonderful cover. I mean look at how kick-ass these two are. He's moody and she is so ready to kick the crap out of some vampires; so Heather and Brendan. I love it! Thank you so much, Fiona! :-)
Killing Vampires? Easy. Tracking someone? Simple. Helping, and protecting a Vampire slayer... Bloody hard work!
Thirteen years ago, Brendan Daniels made a deal with a psychic. In exchange for information on the whereabouts of a Rogue Werewolf, he promised to help and protect Sofia's granddaughter. Unfortunately, he had no idea what he was getting himself, or his Pack, into.
Nothing about Heather is simple, from her weird dietary needs to her life’s mission. The girl can handle herself, but the promise to protect her soon becomes a need, and one that he can't fully understand.
Vampire Slayer. Born Infected. Blood addict... but not by choice.
Heather Ryan is the most recent slayer in a long family line. Like all before her, she has spent her life searching for her ancestor, Marko Pavel, the Vampire her family has sworn to kill. If that isn't complicated enough, Heather is also a born "Infected", and to keep her from becoming insane or giving in to her darker side, she is on a very strict diet.
Grandmother Sofia has passed, so now it is up to Heather to take the family legacy into her own hands, all alone: or at least, it would have been, if her Grandmother hadn't sent a Werewolf to help her.
What is the irritating Brendan supposed to help Heather with? Sofia never told either one of them. But it doesn't take long for Heather and Brendan to find out that the Vampires have big plans, and that the fiends have waited a long time for them both.
Buy Link: https://www.nobleromance.com/
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(Taken from Chapter One)
The sudden sound of rustling paper snapped me from my thoughts. I tensed, the awareness crackled sharply beneath the surface of my skin.
Someone is in my house.
I walked through the open living room door. A new scent invaded my nostrils. Tangy, manufactured, smelled like expensive cologne. An unfamiliar, black travel bag sat tucked away between the red leather sofa and TV stand. The papers rustled again. I stepped lightly toward the archway that lead into the dining room, my sword still gripped comfortably in my right hand.
"Your breakfast is getting cold, Heather. I suggest you stop trying to sneak in here and just come in so that we can get this over and done with," said the deep male voice within my kitchen.
What the hell is going on? Why is he in my house? How does he know my name? And why the hell has he cooked me breakfast?
I took a deep breath, then exhaled. I slowly walked through the archway into the empty dining room and turned my head to the left to see a strange man seated at my kitchen breakfast bar. He sat casually, in jeans and a forest green T-shirt that clung to his broad, sculptured back and defined biceps. The sun flooded into the kitchen through the side window and glinted off his copper-blond hair, which brushed his shoulders.
"Are you going to come in to the room or stand there drooling all day?" He turned a page of his newspaper.
I inhaled again: nothing new amongst the scent of dog, pine, bacon, and coffee, which meant he wasn't a Vampire. I knew, because leeches smelled like mouldy, wet earth; not an overpowering smell, but hidden underneath the products they wore. Part of me was relieved he wasn't a Vamp; I didn't know why. A Vampire wouldn't be able to get in here anyway. They could only come in with a personal invite, and since they all wanted me dead . . . . No matter what state I'd been in last night, I wouldn't have invited one in. So, who the hell is this guy?
I walked toward him, my sword glinting in the sunlight as I gripped the hilt firmly in both hands.
"Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?" I stopped three feet behind him.
"I'm not going to hurt you."
"Wrong answer." I pressed the tip of my sword into the firm space between his shoulder blades. "I said who the hell are you and what—"
"Killing me isn't going to help." He turned another page of his paper.
"I disagree. I think killing the stranger who has broken into my house is a very good idea."
"I did not break in," he replied calmly. "My name is Brendan and I'm actually here to help you."
I snorted. "Like I believe that."
"It's the truth. Besides, if I really wanted to hurt you, I would have. I also wouldn't have left your weapons with you."
"Well, you're obviously an eejit."
He laughed. "You have serious trust issues."
"Trust issues? Says the complete stranger who broke into my house and—"
"I used your house keys. They were in your jacket pocket," he said. "And yes, trust issues, says the stranger. The stranger who promises he isn't here to hurt you."
"Just because you say you're not here to hurt me doesn't mean it's the truth."
"True. But why go to the trouble of killing you when I could have left you lying in the car park the other night and let the seven greedy leeches that were looking for you find you, and bleed you dry."
Coming July 2nd from Noble Romance Publishing.