2017 Roné Award 1st runner up in the Paranormal Romance Category.
Lane DeMarco is a broken vampire plagued by a horrific past that makes intimacy and trust impossible. His passion for playing music is the only thing satisfying enough to curb his insanity...until Vanessa shakes his life up harder than the San Francisco earthquake. She’s smart, sexy, headstrong, and his desire for her could spiral out of control…except she is a witch. The same witch who once cast a nasty spell on him.
Vanessa Creamer inherited a powerful birthright, but traumatic events in her life have shattered her confidence. Though she hides it well, she struggles daily with self-doubt and denies her deepest longings for the one man she truly wants. Her attraction to Lane, with his sultry voice and bedroom eyes, proves irresistible. All her attempts to connect with him have failed and she fears his hatred of her is as powerful and intense as her desire for him.
Passion ignites between them as they struggle with deep-seated secrets that haunt them. Can the witch he distrusts tame the destructive demons that torment him? Or will their fervid desires send him deeper into the hell he’s been living in?
All time best ranking is #166
Current ranking is #178,441
Lyrics formed in my mind. Words of lust, regret, pain, and pure, unadulterated love morphed into verses and appeared on the music sheet before me. Intermittent chords flowed from my fingers made tangible by the keys of the grand piano. I jotted down notes as I heard them, sealing them to the words. The pen in my hand couldn’t move fast enough to write.
I’d been writing this song for about six months now. No one knew about it. I only worked on it when no one else was around. At the time, I’d thought it would be a good idea to put my emotions down on paper, but now, I didn’t know anymore. Every time I read them, a sick feeling gnawed inside of me, chomping away. Tormenting. Haunting.
It was a ballad, a love song, a sad song. A brooding tune. A melody that no one would probably ever hear. Just my morbid form of meditation needing an outlet. At least that’s what I told myself.
I wasn’t always easy to get along with these days. I knew this. No one had to tell me. And I found it particularly difficult when it came to certain people.
I’d had my share of relationships, or should I say my share of women. In all my two hundred and twenty years, I didn’t think I’d ever had a serious relationship with a woman. Vampire or human.
Some might call me a monster. But does a monster have a conscience? Or know regret? Fear the absence of dignity? I’d been on this planet for a long time. Long enough to know that there was no remedy for self-abhorrence. No therapeutic massage or bath crystals could ever tame the imprints of depression as they embedded their way into each and every one of my nerve endings on a daily basis.
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Italian
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Already translated.
Translated by Cristina Colli
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Author review: Christina is wonderful. The best translator I have and she is very meticulous and cares about her work. Plus, she stays in contact and asks questions, which I appreciate. I wish she could translate all my books in every language. But at least I can have her do the Italian translations. Very, very good. |
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Portuguese
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Already translated.
Translated by Y. W.
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Ariel Fonseca
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