the chance to catch Jackson Cabot—my only vampire hero!—on a Kindle Countdown
will be available for $.0 99 from 3:00 AM Thurs Dec. 3 to 2:59 AM Sun Dec. 6, then at $1.99 from 3:00
AM Sun Dec. 6 to 1:59 AM Wed Dec 9. It will return to its regular price of
$2.99 at 2:00 AM Dec. 9. All times are EST. Click here for the deal!
The year is
1896. Jackson’s a son of Boston aristocracy, expected to take over his family’s
financial empire. It’s not a fate he relishes. Longing to explore his artistic
talents, he heads to Paris. There, he meets a stunning, enigmatic woman.
Leanna is a
half-human, half-Sidhe Immortal. She’s a leannan-sidhe,
or love-fairy--a being whose love inspires young artists to greatness. There’s
a dark side to her muse power—artists must give their life essence as payment. According
to Celtic Mythology, the many great artists who have died young have succumbed
to the lure of a leannan-sidhe. Leanna
tries to leave Jackson before she destroys him. Unwittingly, she causes him to
become prey to a vicious vampire master.
After a century
enslaved, Jackson plots to destroy his former
master. A showdown is coming, and it’s uncertain who will prevail. On the eve
of battle, in present-day Rome, Jackson unexpectedly encounters Leanna. And
Blood Debt is
set in the world of the USA Today bestselling series Immortals, created by Jennifer Ashley and written by Jennifer,
Robin T. Popp and myself. The series consists of seven full length novels and
novella version of Blood Debt appeared in the anthology The Reckoning, which is no longer available. The re-release is an
expanded, short novel length story (45,000 words), featuring an expanded
subplot and completely new scenes.
is the story of Leanna’s redemption. She appeared as Mac’s vindictive half-sister
in Immortals #6, The Crossing.
From Chapter One
The woman emerged from the vehicle,
piece by piece, like candy spilling from a bag. Shapely thighs. Curvaceous hips.
Tiny waist. Lush breasts. Slender neck. A beautiful profile.
Pointed Sidhe ears peeking through long,
shining auburn hair.
Abruptly, Jackson’s feet slid off the
table. They hit the ground with such force the flat television screen shook on
its mounting. He gasped as his mind blanked on a rush of white-hot lust,
followed closely by a wash of red-hot anger.
He hardened with painful intensity.
He stared. She passed under the
ancient stone archway and out of the camera’s view. One hundred years had
passed since he’d last seen her. But it would take much longer than a mere
century to erase this particular redhead from his mind.
He’d thought she’d be dead by now. Sidhe
could live indefinitely, unless they met with an untimely accident or an enemy
bent on murder. This particular Sidhe female was half human, more than likely to
die in the normal course of events. And she’d surely collected enough enemies over
the years who would be happy to see her dead.
At the very least, Jackson thought
bitterly, she might have had the decency to age a decade or two. But no. She
was as alive, as young, and as beautiful as he remembered.
And still consorting with artists, as
she had all those years ago in Paris.
He’d worshiped this woman. In return,
she’d whispered words of devotion, screwed him blind, and left him for dead. But
Jackson hadn’t died—or at least, not as completely as she’d expected.
It was a mistake she’d soon regret.
It seemed he was meant to roam
tonight, after all.