To wrap up the weeks of novellas, we have last, but certainly not least…
Nemesis By Jennifer Harlow
Sex traffickers, serial killers, and superheroes…welcome to the world of Galilee Falls, Sydney Rye!
This novella takes place between the events of Inviting Fire and Shadow Harvest. It also takes place after the events in The Galilee Falls Trilogy.
The Joy of Justice
The life of the vigilante is a solitary one. Always in the shadows. No one to talk to, no one to share experiences with. Uncle Charlie might be on the front lines as a detective, but he’s on the right side of that line. He gets paid to put the bad guys away, and according to the law, I am one of said bad guys. Of course if I had superpowers like The Royal Triumvirate or this new one White Knight I’d be considered a hero. Have my own action figure. But an ordinary woman taking justice into her own hands is called a freak. A madwoman. A vigilante. A murderer. Even a terrorist because of my affiliation to the Joyful Justice Vigilant Network. More labels. More identities forced upon me. At least now I’m not completely alone living with them.
I haven’t seen another Joyful Justice member, save for Uncle Charlie, since I left their compound in Costa Rica a few months ago when Uncle Charlie offered our services. Of course he got to stay in Independence while I ran around the jungle learning how to use an M-16, how to build bombs, and even learning a new martial arts form from Merl. I was one of dozens there, each of us touched by evil in some way. Each hoping to make the world a better place. Or at least that’s what we tell ourselves. Few can face the truth. I couldn’t until recently. I couldn’t face every bone I broke, every time a man pissed his pants as I held a knife to his throat, every cry as I carved an “N” into his forehead to let the rest of the world know what he truly is, it fed my soul and helped me to continue on in this cesspool of a world.
Most aren’t there yet. I hope they never are. They’re just citizens, good people in need of help. They contact the website, looking for guidance, when the regular justice institutions fail. Even I’ve given other lost souls guidance in their quest for retribution. I am a veteran at the whole vigilante way of life. It’s been four years since I put on my costume: my red and black cloaked jacket and black jumpsuit, both made from ballistic fiber that’s saved my life more than once, steel-toed boots, dark red wig, white kabuki face paint with red lips, and black harlequin mask. Four years of stalking my prey at Frat houses, brothels, in their seemingly normal homes. I’ve been shot at, stabbed, broken several bones, and learned from every injury, every mistake. I am more than willing to share that knowledge with others, even if their quest for justice ends when their personal wrong gets corrected. This is not the way of life for everyone. Uncle Charlie does more for the network, giving them information only a police officer has access to.
We all must do our part to make this world a better place. I just prefer drawing blood to do it.
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Launch day went better than I expected. Thanks to everyone who helped make it a success. And tonight from 7-9 EST come join me and the authors for a Facebook party. There will be giveaways and you can ask any of the authors and myself anything you like. Today's author, Scott Bury, will be there to talk about his Kindle World contribution…
This novella takes place between the events of Death in the Dark and Insatiable.
Sydney Rye thought it would be an easy assignment: trail Nigel Willem, a software company executive because his boss suspects he’s up to something with mysterious trips across Europe. Sydney thinks he’s just a boring businessman.
Then Willem is poisoned in his own home. Van, a mysterious young man with long, scruffy blond hair brings Sydney the dead man’s laptop, saying he knows who ordered the murder. The laptop reveals why Willem travelled: he was expediting human trafficking.
As Sydney follows Willem’s trail eastward, she finds more proof about Willem’s underworld contacts in pornography, people smuggling, drugs and murder. But the presence of the unpredictable, aggravating and irresistible Van may be more of an obstacle than a help.
Chapter 5: Needle
Sydney could never get used to the police vehicles in London. Vans and cars seemed too small by American standards, and the green-and-blue Battenburg markings along the sides did not make her think Police.
What really jarred her was seeing four of them together, blocking the narrow street in front of Willem’s house, lights flashing in the early morning when she arrived to begin her long day of surveillance. It had been three days since he had returned from France, three dreary London days of watching a man go through the same motions over and over again. The only variation had been last night, when Willem came home later than usual. Sydney had thought he looked nervous. He looked up and down the street twice after he got out of his limo, and practically ran to his front door.
And now, the next morning, there were four police cars in front of his home and a woman officer stretching yellow tape across the entrance.
Sydney kept walking past without changing her pace, Blue at her hip. She hit speed dial. “Mulberry? There are four London Police cars in front of Willem’s house and the cops are putting up crime scene tape. Do you have any idea what’s going on?”
“We just heard from a source at the Police. Willem’s dead.”
“What the fuck?”
“Police got a call early this morning. They found him lying on his back doorstep. There’s no official word from the medical examiner, yet, but it looks like he was killed some time last night.”
“Any idea who killed him?”
“Nair thinks it was someone connected with the people you saw him with in France three days ago. You better get back here to the office. Things have changed.”
“With the subject dead, I guess they have. So the cops are taking over the case?”
“They’ll be investigating the death, yes, but it’s not officially a homicide case, yet. And Majors-Taurus still wants us to continue to find out what Willem was up to. Only now, we don’t have to worry about him finding out.”
“Just whoever killed him.”
“We don’t know that anyone did. He could have had a heart attack—”
“Not very likely at his age.”
“It’s not unheard of. Or he could have slipped and fallen. We don’t know, yet. That’s why you need to come back, sit down and talk about what we know and don’t, yet, and what to do next.”
London is getting into his head. He never used to talk this much. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
She and Blue were walking down a street of two-storey brick homes with small gardens in front of them. The pavement was wet with overnight rain, and Blue was doing his best to step in every puddle. They reached a narrow opening between the sides of two houses when a tall man stepped onto the sidewalk, nearly colliding with Sydney.
“Why don’t you watch—” she began, and Blue barked happily, his tail wagging.
Then she recognized him: long, tangled blond hair, bright blue eyes, broad shoulders. “Van! What the hell are you doing here?”
Van was dressed for London: long beige cargo pants and a red rain jacket that covered a tattered t-shirt. He bent down to pat Blue’s head. “Just workin’. Fr’instance, I know who killed Nigel Willem,” he answered. He straightened, looking down at Sydney’s grey eyes.
“What do you know about Nigel Willem? Who says he’s dead?” Sydney could feel her pulse in her throat and her mouth began to water. She pushed a lock of light blond hair behind her ear.
“You know, you need to work on blending in. Yelling at someone who almost but doesn’t bump into you on the street really screams ‘New Yorker.’” He turned and started walking in the direction Sydney had been heading. For no reason that Sydney could imagine, she fell into step beside him, Blue between her and Van.
You can find more about Scott Bury, and contact him through his website, http://www.writtenword.ca, his blog, Written Words, and on Twitter @ScottTheWriter.
And there's still time to join The Sydney Rye Kindle World Readers Group to get 8 free books, including one from Scott.
FOUR KISS is finally out! When I first started writing this serial I thought I'd stop at Three, but Darling and her world just couldn't be contained in three installments. In fact…there will be TWO MORE at least in this series. I have FIVE and SIX KISS on the docket, coming out in June and July. Who knows where it'll go from there? For now here's a little snippet of FOUR KISS. Enjoy!
This is the fourth time I've tried this. I hope you received my earlier messages. Only 4% are found and responded to. If you have no idea what this is, what the Deep Currents of the Universe are then let me explain briefly.
Think of the Universe like your ocean. Big, impossible to fully explore, and filled with life. In my world we first started putting messages into bottles in order to track the currents of our seas. When another dimension responded it shocked us. It's possible in your world the dimensional portals are still unknown to your scientists. After decades of study they are still mostly unknown to ours. We continue to use the same methods we did over a century ago. Though now it is the currents of the Universe that we throw our bites of data into.
But I have not broken all protocol, and risked my career, in order to talk about my world or the methodology of The International Council for the Exploration of the Universe. I did it to continue to share with you the interviews of Darling Price. She is the most powerful being in the entire universe and I'm beginning to see that her reasons for sitting and talking with me are all her own. When this started I believed it was possible we were holding her, in some way controlling her, but now I know that is impossible.
Darling Price cannot be held by our conventional methods. Even the height of our technology has no effect on her. The woman can travel between dimensions! An ability we thought limited to Gods and their offspring. But Darling Price is mortal, though her life is much longer than any average being. She is neither deity nor magical. The more I learn of her the less I understand. However, my faith in her ability to stop the zombies, to save our world and all of those affected by this horrendous plague, stays strong.
I was up before the sun and was waiting in the interrogation room when Darling was brought in by the guards. She looked incredible, her black hair falling in waves around her elegant, bare shoulders. Darling's black leather pants molded to her lush hips. Her sleeveless tank top, ribbed with a scooped necked, exposed the cleft of her cleavage. She slid into the chair across from me and reached for the pack of cigarettes I'd brought for her. It was only half full and she raised her eyebrows when she noticed the deficit.
“I'll get you more,” I said.
She nodded. “I know.”
I looked down at my notes, pretending to familiarize myself with them. I'd spent hours last night and this morning poring over them, searching for clues, ways to get her to share her knowledge. “When we left off yesterday Emmanuel had carried you into a stream and something shifted. He told you that you were ‘home'.”
“Yes,” Darling said, sitting back in her chair, taking an unlit cigarette with her. “Home.”
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He curled around me, holding me so that my back pressed against his chest. My heart thundered in my chest as he kissed my ear, my hair. Power coursed through me so that my vision was saturated with colors. Sounds traveled to me from great distances. The crackling of the fires miles away, the individual steps and sighs of the zombies that wandered the streets below. The blood rushing through my veins.
I rolled, turning to Dimitri. His eyes were gray, lids heavy with exhaustion. I placed my hand against his neck and felt the blood moving through his veins, powered by magic instead of life. I kissed him gently, afraid now that I could hurt him. That I could take too much. “We must go,” I said, sitting up and looking around for my clothing.
We dressed silently. Dimitri occasionally reached out and brushed against me; his fingers playing with a strand of my hair, lightly touching my ankle as he tied his shoe. Once we were clothed, my chain wrapped around my waist again and my one remaining knife in the makeshift holster at my hip, Dimitri pulled me against him. “Darling, I do not understand what you are,” he said, kissing the top of my head, inhaling my scent. I leaned against his button-down shirt, wrapping my arms around his narrow hips, feeling his hard chest against me. “But in all my centuries on this planet I've never known this before.”
I looked up at him. “What?” I asked. “Known what?”
He held my face and kissed me, his tongue tangling with mine, more of his power drifting to me so that I rose on my tip toes and pulled him closer. The strength within him was intoxicating. I broke the kiss and held his hand as we walked toward the door that led down into the apartment building we stood upon.
I pulled on the handle, which was still warm from the sun that had sunk hours ago, but the door was locked. “Let me,” Dimitri said, reaching around me. I stepped aside and saw his forearm strain as he pulled. The door didn't give and Dimitri's brows conferenced. He looked over at me.
“What's wrong?” I asked.
Dmitri shook his head. “I need to feed,” he said, putting both hands on the handle and yanking hard. I heard the metal give and the door buckled. With one more tug it opened.
It was dark inside, I reached out blindly for the railing. Dimitri wrapped his hand around mind. “Follow me,” he said.
The door closed behind us and total darkness descended. I felt his hand on my cheek, his thumb running under my eye, his fingers gliding into my hair. His lips brushed against mine. “I want to drink from you,” he said.
I imagined the delicious sinking of his fangs into my flesh, the pleasure of satisfying his hunger, nourishing him. But I knew that I could not help him and stay safe at the same time.
“I can't let you,” I said, my voice sounding breathless but strong. His lips skimmed the skin beneath my ear as they traveled down my neck, his tongue came out and flicked against my skin. “I'm sorry Dimitri,” I said, “but I can't feed you.”
“I understand,” he said, backing away from me but keeping hold of my hand. “You can't see in the dark?”
“No,” I laughed. “I bet you can though.”
“Of course,” he said sounding almost insulted. “Shall I carry you?”
“I'm fine,” I answered, feeling strong and steady even in the dark. While I could not see the steps, I could see his energy all around us: it was pale and weak. I had taken a lot from him.
We started down the steps and at the first landing Dimitri opened a door to a hallway. The lights were still on here. They flickered as we walked past apartment doors. “I need to find a human,” Dimitri said.
“I thought all the people were moved by the army.”
“Yes,” Dimitri said, stopping in front of a door. “But not everyone went. Some people have hidden in their apartments.”
“How can you tell?”
A smile twitched on his lips. “I can smell them and hear them.”
“Their blood, moving through their veins,” Dimitri said, his fangs descending slightly. He turned to me. “Yours is driving me almost insane.” He made eye contact and I saw a voracious hunger in his gaze. Something that no amount of sex, touch, or feel, could heal. He had to suck someone's blood to satiate it.
Dimitri dropped my hand and kicked the door open. It banged on its hinges and Dimitri stepped into the apartment. I followed behind him into a living room. A ceiling lamp illuminated a worn couch and two chairs facing a large tv. The screen was blank except for small lettering in the upper left hand corner that read “no signal”.
Three doors lead off the living room and Dimitri headed toward one of them. A gun shot rang out and the door splintered as a bullet passed through it. It thunked into Dimitri's stomach and he stumbled back, knocking into me. I fell onto the ground and stayed there, covering my head with my hands as more bullets flew. Dimitri took a step back as they penetrated him. One ripped through his shoulder and a mist of blood filled the air as it flew through his flesh.
Six bullets and the shooting stopped. I heard the sound of someone reloading and Dimitri kicked the door in. I sat up to see a man fall back into the room, Dimitri upon him. The man's scream was cut short as Dimitri dove into his neck.
A woman was screaming. I stood up, feeling her scream against my skin, the fear and shock filling the apartment. Dimitri was sucking at the man's neck, the sound strange and vaguely erotic. The man groaned beneath him, his arms coming around and embracing the vampire, pulling him closer.
He was going to kill him I realized as I walked toward them. When I crossed into the room I saw the woman. She was clutching a child, her eyes wild, almost feral. Her mouth open wide, sound erupting out of her small frame. The child in her arms didn't move. It was dead I saw, there were no emotions around it, no spark of life. “Dimitri,” I said. He did not acknowledge me.
I stared at them, my eyes focusing and unfocusing. There were lines I saw, cords wrapped around both humans. Faint lines of light, thin, loose; almost like old fashioned telephone wires leading off both figures. The man's ran to the woman and child and back, a crisscross of ties linking them.
Several ran off Dimitri and disappeared through the wall. Others sprung from him and wrapped around the man, pulsing with each suck.
I put my hand on Dimitri's shoulder and then ran my fingers up into his hair. “Enough,” I said, pulling him with my mind, twirling lines of my own around him. Taking a deep breath I felt the pleasure he was experiencing. It was magnetic, incredible, sent shivers through me. I stepped closer, pressing my body against him. He slowed down. “Do not drain him,” I requested, my breasts resting on his arm, my emotions pressing against his, attempting to slide between him and his victim.
Dimitri raised his head. The wound on the man's neck was small, just two punctures. They oozed blood, which Dimitri lapped gently with his tongue. I watched the wounds close. Dimitri stepped away from the man who wobbled for a moment before dropping to his knees. His wife kept screaming. I could tell her fear was turning Dimitri on. He wanted to feed from her too.
I left Dimitri to attend to the man at our feet. His eyes were glazed. A satisfied smile on his face, like a drunk who’s had his fill. I heard Dimitri move away and the woman fell silent. The sound of that gentle, erotic slurping started up again. I felt the pleasure they were both experiencing on my back like the sun's beams, a nourishing warmth.
The man's gun was still in his hand. Silver and unloaded. I took it from him. “Where are the extra bullets?” I asked.
He did not respond. Looking around I saw them sitting on a dresser. We were in the couple’s bedroom. The child's body was on the ground next to where Dimitri held the woman, his face pressed into her neck. He picked her up and carried her to the bed.
I walked over to the dresser and loaded the gun. I placed it in the makeshift knife holster on my waist. It stayed well enough but I made a mental note to pick up a better one.
I looked down at the child. Skin that was once a deep mahogany now looked pale and grey. It was a girl, must have been about two years old. I didn't see any injuries. What happened? I wondered. Then its eyes opened and I realized the child had turned. It reached up for me and I stumbled back, knocking into the man. We both tumbled to the ground. The zombie child crawled toward us, reaching out. I kicked it away and the man snapped out of his haze.
He reached for the child. “Baby,” he said, his voice tight with emotion.
“Don't,” I said, grabbing for him. But he shrugged me off and reached for his little girl as she reached for him. “No,” I said, feeling power pour out of me, the horror of that child biting her father too much for me. Not on top of everything else. I had to stop it.
And I did.
They both stopped. Frozen in place, their fingers centimeters apart. The girl's jaw was open, eyes filmy, a faint green glow coming from behind her irises. Her father, his skin darker than hers ever was, reaching for her, his expression loving and pained. Dimitri's soft suckling continued. I looked over at the bed. The woman was on her back, Dimitri was between her legs, his head buried in her thigh, those ties that disappeared through the wall pulsing.
Fear thrust through me and they began to move again. I jumped forward grabbing the girl up and holding her away from me. She turned her small face toward me and snapped the air. Then Dimitri was there, he took the child from me and turning his back to the rest of the room crushed the girl's skull. I recognized the sound.
Sadness, limitless and impenetrable, expanded through the room. It was coming from the father. He began to weep. His broad shoulders shuddering. Dimitri threw his influence over the man but it could not quell the grief that thundered out of him. Dimitri thickened the cloak around the father until he calmed, his eyes going hazy again.
The woman was motionless on the bed, her leg seeping blood from two puncture wounds, staining the quilt she laid upon. Dimitri put the little girl's body down gently before bending down and licking the woman's wounds, closing them.
I turned and left the room. Crossing through the living room I opened another door hoping to find a bathroom but what I saw was a hospital bed, a child's hospital bed. I stared at it, the metal sides glimmering in the low light that filtered around me from the living room. Machines surrounded the bed, their lights off.
“I'm sorry,” Dimitri said behind me. I closed the door and turned to him. “Blood lust,” he said as if in explanation.
“I… it's been a long time since that happened to me.” I didn't say anything. “I was very hungry.”
“What will happen to them?” I asked.
He looked back at the open door of the bedroom behind him. “They will be taken to our camps, if they survive long enough to be picked up.”
“Their little girl,” I said, my throat closing as a lump of tears moved up from my gut.
“Not from being bit though,” I said. “She was sick.” Dimitri didn't say anything. “The dead turn no matter what?” I asked.
“Perhaps,” Dimitri said.
“Will they rise from the ground?” I asked.
“Perhaps,” Dimitri said again. So calm. So fucking cold.
I pushed past him, opening another door that turned out to be the bathroom. I slammed the door and grabbed for the toilet just in time to hurl into it. Tears poured down my face as I retched, my body heaving, bringing up nothing but bile. I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten.
The spasms subsided and I sat back, leaning against the wall. Closing my eyes I took some deep breaths, pulling myself together. How did I stop them? I questioned. Where did that power come from and how could I use it?
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Megan stood over me, her bright red hair even more brilliant than before she got sick. The colors were vibrant, varied, as if every shade from burgundy to yellow was represented in her long, luscious, wavy locks. Megan's skin was white, smooth, touched with bright pink at her lips and cheeks. She looked like a doll made from the finest porcelain. Too beautiful to be real.
“Did any blood get in your mouth?” she asked.
I just stared up at her. She crouched down, her hair floating around her for a moment because she moved so fast that it took gravity time to catch up.
“Did it get in your mouth?” she asked again, her voice low and earnest. I reached a hand out to touch her face but she wrapped her own fingers around mine before I could reach her cheek. Megan's skin felt cold, deathly cold. A shiver traveled down to my wrist, along my arm, over my shoulder, and straight to my heart, which thundered in response.
Megan leaned closer to me, her eyes scanning my lips, then she smiled. “No, you bit it,” she said.
“We have to go,” a man said. Megan turned to him, but I just stared at her, looking at the elegant length of her neck, the veins almost violet under her pale skin.
“I know,” Megan answered before returning to me. “Come on,” she said. “Can you stand?”
The man came around Megan and crouched down next to me. Megan put her hand on his shoulder. “She does not like to be touched,” she said.
“It won't be a problem,” he assured her, reaching toward me. His eyes were the pale blue of very thick ice. High elegant cheekbones and plump red lips combined with his slender waist gave him an air of androgyny.
“She will walk,” Megan insisted. He frowned but relented, standing up. He was wearing a tailored suit, charcoal gray with burgundy and black thread running through it. He straightened his tie (narrow and matte black) before crossing behind Megan over to where Basil was pinned against my apartment building wall by a zombie. Megan's companion grabbed the creature around its neck. I saw his fingers tighten, pressing through the flesh. The head popped off, flying sideways and bouncing on the ground. The rest of the body crumpled at his feet. He shook his hand and bits of flesh flew off it.
Basil straightened his jacket and nodded at Megan's companion before hurrying to Issa's side. “We can't leave them,” I said, pointing at Issa's unconscious body. Megan took the keys from my hand and unlocked the front door.
“4G,” she told Basil. He didn't waste time. Grabbing Issa by the arm, he slung the taller man over his shoulder, then took the offered keys and walked through the door. Megan closed it behind them and gestured toward a navy SUV idling at the curb. “We need to go.”
“My violin,” I said, looking over to where the case lay on the ground. It was scuffed up, smears of blood on its rough black exterior, but still intact. Megan picked it up in a blur of movement. She took my hand and pulled me to my feet.
“He was going to tell me–”
Megan cut me off. “We have to go now.” Sirens were wailing in the distance. Screaming still filled the air. Megan opened the back door and helped me in. A zombie fell against the opposite window; its palms pressed against the glass, viscous drool seeped from its mouth. Megan slammed my door. The creature flew backwards, and Megan was sitting next to me with the door closed by the time it hit the building across the street.
“I need to blindfold you,” she said.
“What?” I asked.
“Just trust me,” she said.
“Trust you,” I parroted.
“Yes,” she nodded.
“Okay,” I said.
She smiled, relieved. The elegant man passed her a black hood from where he sat in the driver's seat. Megan pulled it over my head, blocking all but the strongest light from passing through to my eyes.
The sirens were closer now. Loud over the sound of our engine as we started forward. The rat tat tat of gunfire in the distance. Megan wrapped her hand into mine. I couldn't believe that she was really here. And the longer we drove the less I believed it. The sirens faded, our speed increased, and soon I heard nothing except for the engine, my own breath, and the whine of our tires on blacktop.
Without the sight of her and only experiencing Megan's smooth, cold, hard fingers interlaced with mine, I began to feel as though I was holding hands with a statue rather than a person. It was impossible that Megan could be a person. Not only should her body be weak and riddled with disease but she ought to be dead. Instead, she exhibited speed and strength beyond the bounds of biology.
My world, which had always felt disjointed and confused but anchored by Megan, now seemed totally untethered. People were attacking each other. Ripping out each other's throats and then rising, their wounds fresh and lurid, to stumble through the streets looking for another victim. I remembered climbing into the kitchen cabinet of a two-room cabin my father built and was discovered by police in a completely different place. Megan was dying, Megan disappeared. Megan was here, with me.
I heard the crunch of gravel under the tires and moments later we rolled to a slow stop. I heard the front door open and close. “Darling,” Megan said. Her voice saying my name sounded so right. “We are here. I will take the hood off once we get you inside.”
I heard and felt my door open. The air was cooler here, fresher. Megan's voice in front of me now, “Come on,” she said, taking my elbow. A gentle touch held the back of my head down as I climbed out.
“I'll carry her, it's better,” I heard the man say. His voice was smooth, the hint of a United Kingdom’s accent. “I promise you she will not mind,” he assured Megan and I believed him.
“No,” Megan said, her voice low and stern. She led me, holding my elbow, over gravel, then grass. I could hear a gentle breeze rustling leaves. The tinkling sound of a stream mixed with the vibration of crickets. “There are stairs coming up,” Megan said. “Here they are, raise your foot.” I did as I was told and we traveled up four steps. They did not creak or wheeze like wood. The smoothness of them made me think I was walking on stone. This sensation continued as we moved indoors.
The air warmed and I could smell the lingering scent of smoke from a wood fire. Our footsteps echoed so that I felt the room was large. “I'm taking off the hood now,” Megan said quietly, her breath moving against the fabric. She lifted it over my head and I blinked for a moment while my eyes focused. That's when I realized hers had changed.
While one eye was still the emerald green I remembered, the other was frosty blue just like the man she was traveling with. “You're okay, Darling,” she said. “Everything is okay.”
I felt my lips moving with hers, and my mind agreeing. She smiled and then stepped to my side, her arm sliding through mine. It was an achingly familiar gesture. The sweet intimacy of our sides touching was something I'd relished. But Megan's body felt harder now, not the soft flesh I'd once known.
You can download Two Kiss HERE. And why not pre-order the next installment Three Kiss HERE.
I hope you all had a wonderful first month of 2015. I had a great time recovering from the holidays (my liver may never be the same but I'm starting to get my waistline back under control :). And I got stranded in Florida for two extra days due to the snore storm that did not ravage New York. But I can't complain because a) Florida is pretty freaking nice and b) Today TWO KISS comes out!!!! I love writing this series. I love writing it soooooo much….there will be a FOUR KISS. Out in April! But let's not get ahead of ourselves.
Busy, busy day! Not only is TWO KISS out today but ONE KISS is FREE 1/31-2/1.
Two Kiss is the second part in E.J Kimelman’s Apocalyptic Urban Fantasy serial: Transmissions from the International Council for the Exploration of the Universe.
Darling Price thought her best friend, Megan Quick, was dead. Months earlier the doctors said Megan had only weeks to live. Than she disappeared. So when Megan saves Darling from a crowd of flesh crazed zombies, exhibiting strength and speed beyond the bounds of biology, Darling is at once exhilarated to see her friend alive again but also frightened by her. Darling comes to understand that Megan's new found life comes at a price, one she hopes Darling is willing to pay so that they can be together again. With zombies over running the streets, immortal beings controlling her emotions, and lost memories flooding back to her, Darling begins to understand that she is not just some regular girl. She may have powers of her own that go beyond the bounds of known biology.
The Kiss Serial is recommended for adults who enjoy themes of friendship and romance at the end of the world; sex, violence, foul language and a wild apocalyptic adventure populated by both humans and immortal beings.
You can download One Kiss HERE, Two Kiss HERE, and pre-order Three Kiss HERE which will be released 3/2/15.
And I'm happy to announce there will be a Four Kiss! Out in April. More about that to come. Until then enjoy my first kiss free and then the second for only $.99.