Now available from Aspen Mountain Press
In The Dark is an anthology of vampire stories I wrote over about a year's time.
They center around George's Belleveau, a vampire since before The Terror, and Diane Patterson, the modern day woman he falls in love with. They also deal with the consequences of their love.
Georges is my favourite character to date. I just love writing stories with him in them. There's about ten simmering on the burner at the moment. As soon as the time is ripe, I'll get them written.
Here's the blurb for In The Dark.
Georges Belleveau is a vampire. With great willpower he controls his urges to feed, keeping his blood lust under control. When he meets Diane Patterson love enters into his carefully balanced equation. Can he keep his condition a secret? And when another other worldly creature threatens to expose him by threatening Diane, will she be able to accept the truth?
In The Dark received great reviews at Romance Reviews Today and here at Coffee Time Romance. Thanks Cherokee.
In addition, In The Dark was one of the top rated erotic releases at Fictionwise for almost a month.:biggrin:
Buy a copy. You won't be disappointed.
Excerpt: In The Dark (Adult)
Because it's the favourite of my works to date I'm posting another excerpt.
This, I hope, shows how big a range of emotions this story covers.
Warning, rather graphic violence in this one. As well as something called from the abyss.
I’m sitting on my bench at Poet’s Walk. I have been here for hours, desperately trying to subdue my emotions. The battle between man and monster is more intense than it has been for a long time.
The human feelings; sorrow, longing and anger surge through me. Diane and what has happened to her make my mind boil. The fate of Mandy’s other victims adds a little heat.
They slop over to the monster, make its presence intense. It takes all my strength to keep from searching out my opponent and making her pay in terror and agony.
You don’t have to be a monster, even now, I tell myself. Ms. Richardson can meet my demands. If she does, our war is over. And like most wars, nothing will be gained. Save the freedom of the people damaged by her. To me, that is more important than victory.
I tense as a fluttering sound comes from my right. It sounds as if a large bird is moving nearby, almost. But not quite.
The noise comes again, in front of me and I look to see if I can spot whatever is there. Nothing.
Again the susurration reaches me, left side this time. I recognize the pattern now. Whatever is out there is running a circle around me to check my awareness and for defenses. Which means…
I roll off the bench and something flashes by. It would have landed on my back if I had stayed still. A rank, fetid smell fills the air.
Coming to my feet, I face the thing as it lands. And thing it is. It’s shaped vaguely like a whippet, spare and lean. But it’s three times the size of animal it is patterned after. Large wings resembling a bat’s are furled against its back. The body appears to be made out of rotting meat, the surface is scabrous, decomposing in places with maggots dripping from its interior. The eyes are milky but also shine with a dark intent. The jaws contain large, undamaged and very sharp teeth.
I can’t help myself and use a line from a favoured movie. “You are one ugly motherfucker.”
A feeling scratches at the edge of my mind. The hell hound finds me amusing. I’m the first victim in a while who has shown defiance. It likes that, bravado will make my destruction more savoury.
During that very short interval of distraction I prepare myself. My fingernails lengthen, thicken and become razor sharp. The sounds around me change in timbre as my body speeds up.
Without a noise it leaps for me. A mortal would die before this aberration’s assault. I take what seems to me a second to consider my response, step straight in and shove the spear point of my right hand between its eyes.
Pivoting to my left like a matador I hurl it into some bushes beyond the bench where I sat. Something black and slimy is wrapped in my fingers, the hell hound’s brain I’m hoping.
It would appear so. The creature in the shrubbery twitches, scrabbles at the air and bursts into blue flame. So does what I grip in my hand and coats my lower arm.
The pain is enormous, beyond description. I throw my head back and howl with my suffering. The ululation is utterly bestial. What I try to be is swept away and the monster screams free.