Daily archives for November 18th, 2012

Night Blade…Pre-Order

So it’s up for pre-order on iBooks and Amazon, so hopefully that means the other etailers will be following soon.

iBookstore | Amazon

I’ve had a lot of people asking me for ARCs of this.  Just a heads-up, guys… I generally do not handle sending out ARCs.  On occasion, I’ll do a contest or reach out to a new set of bloggers, but generally, I don’t handle it…I’ve already had…um, well, so many requests I’ve lost count.  The book will go up on Netgalley, but not until January, more than likely. It’s not due out until March and I don’t want reviews posted any earlier than mid-February.

However, I can post a snippet now.

“Why haven’t you called him? He’s worried. Didn’t you hear me?”

“Yes, I heard you,” I said, turning away from him and searching the living room. Colleen had been in here when I got home, so…ah-ha. There was my vest. I grabbed it and found my phone in the front pocket. “Dead battery.”

I plugged it in and then went over to my landline. It was an old-fashioned thing, but I sort of liked old-fashioned things. They didn’t fail you when hurricanes came blasting or when you forgot to charge your phone. Old-fashioned was good. Reliable.

Numerous calls had gone to voicemail. I hit the button as listened to the first few. I felt the smile spreading across my face and kept my head tucked so the pain-in-the-ass kid wouldn’t see it while I listened to Damon’s voice.

By the fifth message, though, my man was getting a little cranky.

“Call me, damn it,” he snarled.

“Good grief.” I grabbed the phone and punched in his number, waited.

I didn’t wait more than three seconds.

“Where in the hell have you been?”

“Sleeping.” I flexed my hand again and studied it. It wasn’t sore. That was good. The headache was fading, too.

“You couldn’t answer the damn phone?”

Sighing, I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I did something sort of stupid and Colleen had to give me a healing tonic. I didn’t hear the phone.”

Silence.

Complete silence.

Finally, in a low, flat voice, Damon said, “What did you do?”

“I hit that wolf bitch Megan in the face and broke my hand. The bones were knitting together by the time I got here and I need my hands. Colleen had to rebreak the bones.”

I heard something thud. I think he might have been hitting his head on something.

“Are you banging your head on the wall?”

“No. My fist. Why did you hit Megan?”

I picked up a pen and absently started to sketch on the notepad I kept by the phone. “You ever met any of the wolves that live around Gatlinburg?”

“No. I recall telling you they were fucked up. I’d rather not meet the sick bastards…unless I need to kill them.”

“They are sick, but no. You don’t need to kill them,” I said quietly. “Remember my friend, TJ?”

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