Today we have the release day launch for Soul Mates by Nadine Nightingale! Check out the fantastic release and grab your copy today!
Title: Soul Mates
Author: Nadine Nightingale
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Release Day: March 10th
About Soul Mates:
Alex is a righteous witch hunter. I’m a stab-worthy witch. We loved each other once. Now, we can’t stand to be near each other. It’s my fault. We are natural born enemies, after all. I had to help him save his brother from a psychotic voodoo priest, though. What can I say? I like Little Remington as much as I pretend to dislike Alex. Besides, he promised to never bother me again after that. He kept his end of the bargain. I left my dubious life behind and started over. All is well. Until— The truth about a deal with hell is revealed. I have to choose between the ultimate sacrifice or losing jerk-face forever. One will live, one will die. Who, solely depends on my selfishness.
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Catch Up on the Series:
I let go of the phone and press the heels of my hands against my temples. Anxiety is a bitch, and I better pull it together before I turn into the witch version of Holden Caulfield. Not that I have anything against the too smart, self-aware protagonist of The Catcher in the Rye, but I firmly believe teen angst should have an expiration date. I look at the digital clock on my nightstand, and my stomach dips a bit. In a little more than an hour, I’m supposed to sit in Penrose’s lecture. DeLuca will be there too, asking questions like, “Why did you whisper some dude’s name while I had you pinned against the closet?” Good times. Can’t avoid the inevitable. Gathering the last bits of energy buzzing through my numb body, I get up and stumble to the bathroom. I climb in the shower. Dipping my head back, I embrace the hot water pouring down my lethargic skin, but every time I close my eyes, I shiver. The blood, the torn flesh, and the fiery eyes haunt me. I turn the faucet, increasing the temperature from hot to I’m-gonna-end-up-in-the-ER-with-second- degree-burns. Why does shit like this keep happening to me? Did I not pay my karmic dues when I helped Alex save Jesse and those kids? Don’t I deserve a freakin’ breather? Some plus points on the cosmic scale? I rest my head against the shower wall, hoping the heat will burn away all the shit that’s bothering me. It doesn’t. Nothing can wash away the void this premonition has left inside me. The hot spray smears the makeup from last night. The scent of my jasmine perfume is replaced by the harsh smell of sandalwood soap. Hell, how I wish everything else would go away as easily. It won’t. Yeah, and I gotta stop pretending it will. By the time I wrap my hair in a towel and slap on a little makeup, I’m certain of three things: I need to get rid of DeLuca before his I’m-a-lovesick-obsessed- asshole act gets worse, my new life sucks, and I will call Alex, consequences be damned. I just put on my panties and bra when loud banging against the front door startles me. Bonnie is still fast asleep, the Nun has a key, and I’m not expecting any visitors. I step into loose jeans, pull a sweater over my head, and walk out of the bathroom. One thing’s for sure; whoever is knocking doesn’t know a thing about patience. The door vibrates, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say someone’s trying to break it down. “Jesus freakin’ Christ, I’m coming.” I yank the door open, ready to unload a shitload of anger, but when my brain processes what my eyes see, I can neither move nor talk. Blood. Bruises. More blood. Alex.
Bonnie aka the thing inside her steps forward, the shadow dog on her heel. “I won’t harm your friend, love. You have my word.” Then it approaches James Dean Wannabe. “You were saying?”
“We stopped when we saw the mark.”
“Of course you did,” the thing says.
This whole I’m-looking-at-my-best-friend-but-listening-to-a-demon thing creeps me out.
“Can we leave?” Chucky asks. “It was clearly a mistake.”
Mamba-Guy nods. “My bad. Won’t happen again.” “It won’t,” the thing confirms. “Your business in this club draws to an end. Demon-strip-paradise will be shut down.”
I’m hit by a bolt of lightning. The men upstairs weren’t men at all. They’re all demons. That’s why they stared at me. It’s why my ankh hurt, too.
Mamba-Guy lifts his gaze. “But—”
The thing inside Bonnie wiggles her index finger, and the dude’s mouth snaps shut.
I smell the fear of the other demons. It poisons the air like acid rain. “We never meant to cross you,” James Dean Wannabe whines.
“I’m afraid...” The ground shakes as if an earthquake is hitting the city. “It’s too late for apologies.” The thing raises Bonnie’s hands in the air, and the demons levitate.
“Don’t do this,” Chucky begs.The thing laughs. “Rule number one in hell?” “Show no mercy,” James Dean Wannabe blurts out.
The thing winks at him. “Exactly.” Then the demons fly against the wall. The impact is so hard I hear their bones cracking. What happens next is a freaking nightmare. The shadow dog jumps at them. Blood splatters. Teeth sink into rotten skin. Screams penetrate the night. Then there’s silence.
I look over the mutilated bodies. All I see is blood and more blood. They’re deader than dead. “Shit,” I hiss as my best friend approaches me.
“Sorry about the mess.” It shrugs. “But I hate when someone touches my things.” The shadow dog is by its side. The demon pats its head, and the dog leans in.
“W-who are you?” I stammer, surprised I still have a voice.
A sinister smile tugs at its lips. “Your question should be what can you do for me, love.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I shouldn’t yell at a demon who just killed six of his kind and has a hellhound as a pet, but lunacy corrupts my brain.
It stops a few feet in front of me and tilts its head to the side. “All in good time, love.”
I pull the St. John’s wort and a couple of fresh gauze pads out of my bag. “I’m gonna take a look at your chest.” “You can look wherever you want. I ain’t got nothing to hide.” His voice is smoky. I sit down next to him and rub some of the sticky stuff onto his cuts, deliberately ignoring the blackish veins. “How long?” I ask, not meeting his eyes. I’m crazy, not suicidal. “How long what?” I tape the gauze pads to his chest. “How long since you got laid, Alex?” “By you?” He flashes me a sexy-as-hell smile. “Too. Damn. Long.” “I’m not going to fall for your shit, Alex.” The playfulness in his eyes flickers out of existence. “You sure you and Pony-Boy aren’t exclusive?” I untangle my hair tie and put it on the nightstand. “This DeLuca obsession of yours is getting real awkward. Want me to call him and see if he’s up for a date?” He leans against the headboard. “What a funny bunny we are today.” I turn and look him in the eye. “Cut it out, Alex. I don’t wanna fight.” Not after the news I just got. Not after the shadow I saw. Not five days before he goes to hell. He raises his brows. “Are you okay?” I climb under the sheets. “Yes, hunter-heroic. I am. Now move to your bed.” He turns on his side, resting his head on one elbow. “Are you really throwing me out of your bed when I only have five days to live? That would be plain cruelty.” I pull the blanket over my chest. “Do whatever the hell you want, but make no mistake, this ain’t no invitation for sex.” He smiles. “Damn shame.” I frown. Sure, it’s dumber than dumb to sleep next to a guy who drives my lady parts crazy, but he’s hurt and I don’t want to sleep alone. Maybe I did hallucinate, and there was no shadow. Maybe the bulb flickered because it was about to burst. But what if my mind hasn’t played tricks on me? What if there really was someone in the hallway? One of the hunters looking for me or worse, the demon from Rick’s Cabaret? I reach for the lamp. “You good to sleep?” He nods and I switch off the light, bathing the room in darkness. For a while, we’re both quiet, me trying to sleep, him watching me like a hawk. I literally feel Alex’s gaze roaming over me. It makes me all kinds of giddy and restless. His leg brushes against mine. “Manda?” “Hm?” “What’s with you and your family?” I dig my nails into the sheets and glare at the ceiling. What is it with him and his sudden interest in my personal life? “Manda?” Exasperation simmers under my cool façade. “My sister and I, we don’t get along. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re from two different planets.” “What about your mom?” Why do I feel like I’m being interrogated by Detective Bitcher? I mean, I don’t ask him about the mysterious sister Diana mentioned. “Haven’t seen her since she threw me out of the house four years ago. It’s very unlikely—as in demons-and-angels-make-out unlikely—I will see her anytime soon. Can’t ruin her picture-perfect family for her new rich husband.” He sighs loudly. “Wow, she really threw you out of the house?” He pauses, probably wrapping his head around the reality I call life. “What could possibly justify a mother treating her own flesh and blood like that?” I don’t want to talk about Mother Dearest or my past. Alex is a stubborn son of a bitch, though. He’ll never let me sleep until he gets what he craves—an answer. “Before I was born,” I explain, voice trembling. “My mom had a vision.” “She had the same gift as you?” Alex queries. “No.” I’m not sure why the hell I’m telling him any of this. “She only had visions when she was pregnant with me. Anyway, I was some sort of queen of the underworld, bringing upon the end of the world.” I turn, facing the bathroom door, and close my eyes. “Probably doesn’t surprise you, huh?” His hand travels from my shoulder down to my fingers. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his breath warm against the nape of my neck. “No kid deserves to grow up like that.” I swallow the desire to conquer his mouth. I ignore the heat rising in my belly. “Get some sleep, Alex.” He throws an arm across me, pulling me against his warm chest. I try to resist, but it’s been a while since I felt so good. “Night,” he whispers, his body melting with mine. I stare into the darkness and try to get a grip on my heartbeat. Why does he have to be so close? Why can’t he see having him in my bed, knowing I will never have him in my life, is fucking torture? I close my eyes. One sheep. Alex’s hand wanders over my ribs, down to my hips. Two sheep. His fingers brush my leg. Three sheep. He draws tiny circles on my inner thigh. Ah, fuck the sheep! I throw the blanket to the side and sit up on the edge of the bed, my feet dangling over the gross carpet. “Move your ass back to bed,” he orders, patting the free spot next to him. “The mattress is too soft,” I lie. “I’ll try the other one.” He murmurs something about me being full of bullshit, but I ignore him because I can no longer ignore the need in my loins.
About the Author:
Nadine aka Dini is a traveler at heart. She considers the world her home and practically lives out of her suitcases. When she’s not glaring at a blank page or abusing her poor keyboard, she spends her time reading, watching movies (preferably horror), pretends to work out, and hangs out with friends and family. Poor girl also suffers from a serious Marvel superhero addiction. So, if you run into her at night, wearing black, know she’s secretly dreaming of being the infamous Black Widow. Her love for writing started in the sixth grade where she annoyed her classmates with a short story featuring Sailor Moon characters, a cemetery, and creepy ghosts. Yes, she’s always been addicted to the dark side. Nadine writes paranormal romance. Her debut novel “Karma” the first book in her paranormal romance series Drag.Me.To.Hell. is published by the Wild Rose Press and will be out in May 2016. She has a serious girl crush on her protagonist Amanda Bishop. Nadine has a BA in Comparative Religions and studied Creative Writing at the University of Oxford.
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