Journey
Man
Knights
of Black Swan, Book
Nine
Victoria
Danann
Genre: paranormal romance
Publisher: 7th House, Imprint of
Andromeda LLC
Date of Publication: 04/07/16
ISBN: 978-1-933320-57-1
ASIN: B01CWHK0K8
Number of pages: 310
Word Count: 75k
Cover Artist: Victoria Danann
Book Description:
For five years, Glendennon Catch
had knocked around the globe as a floater, filling in wherever a team of
vampire hunters was down a member. He’d buried six good knights and watched the
life take its toll on countless others. He’d drunk his share of whiskey and
bedded so many women he would hate to hear the count, but he’d never gotten
over his first love. And, if he had a chance for a do-over, he wasn’t sure he
wouldn’t have chosen Rosie Storm over The Order.
Elora Rose Storm had spent five
years nursing a heavy heart, while on a cross-dimensional mission to make the
world a better place, especially wherever she found human/animal hybrids being
mistreated. She’d seen horrors, righted wrongs where she could, and matured
into a powerful witch/demon with altruistic leanings.
After all that time, unbeknownst to
each other, both were headed home. To Jefferson Unit
Excerpt
There was a soft
knock on the open door.
Glen turned to see
Rosie standing there, looking unbelievably beautiful and uncertain. He pinned
Monq with a look that should have caused him to explode into millions of tiny
bits. “You. Did. Not,” he said slowly and distinctly, each word dripping with
outrage.
“I did,” Monq said
casually as he rose from his chair. Looking at Rosie, he said, “Come in, my
dear. We’re having sea bass with pasta primavera and Alfredo sauce.”
He gestured toward
the table, but Rosie didn’t move. She looked at Glen and said, “I saw you a few
nights ago. In the Hub. You walked right by, but I guess you didn’t see me.”
Glen’s dark eyes
flashed as he sneered. “I saw you.”
“Oh,” she said in
a quiet voice. She searched his face and couldn’t find anything of the boy who
had loved her. In addition to the physical changes, he had a hard edge that
broadcasted bitterness.
Monq decided he’d
better establish himself as an arbiter or things were going to deteriorate
quickly. “I understand you two used to know each other.”
Glen smirked and
looked away, shaking his head. “No. Not really. I thought I knew her. Turned
out not.”
Rosie was
beginning to understand the depth of the hurt she’d delivered to her first
love. She’d been too selfish, too immature, and too shortsighted to grasp the
consequences of her rash behavior. Now that she’d come face to face with the
results, it looked like it was far too late to do anything about it. The damage
wasn’t just done. It had clearly reinfected itself again and again and festered
past the point of repair.
She stood there
staring at Glen, wondering if an apology would help or make things worse.
Looking at the way he was clenching his jaw, she decided things couldn’t get
any worse.
“I’m sorry,” she
said.
Glen’s gaze jerked
up to her eyes. He could see she was sincere and, if anything, it made him hate
her more. At least it made him angrier.
“Oh, good. Dinner
is here,” Monq exclaimed cheerfully.
All the while
dinner was being set out Glen and Rosie continued to look at each other, but
nothing changed. He was resolute in his rage. She was genuine in her
contrition.
When the waiter
was gone, Monq persuaded them to sit down at the table set for three.
“I don’t know how
you see this playing out, old man.” said Glen to Monq.
“There’s no reason
to be disrespectful to Mr. Monq,” Rosie chastised.
“Dr. Monq.” Monq
corrected.
Clearly Glen
didn’t like being chastised about manners, especially by Rosie. “I don’t know
how you see this playing out, Dr. Monq, but no good can come from it.”
By that time Rosie
was beginning to feel a little less sorry. “Oh? And why is that?” she asked.
“Because,
wunderkind, you can’t change the past with a couple of words like ‘sorry’.”
“I know that,
Glen. But apologizing is a start.”
“Really?” He bit
out the word. “A start toward what?”
“It’s a start
toward forgiveness and maybe, eventually, being friends again.”
He startled both
Monq and Rosie by laughing out loud. “FRIENDS!?! Friends don’t give each other
ultimatums and then disppear. FOR YEARS!”
Rosie sighed.
“You’re right. That was dumb. And thoughtless. And if I could take it back…”
“Well, you can’t.”
Glen fumed as he shoved a huge forkful of pasta into his mouth.
“Rosie, why don’t
you tell us what you’ve been doing since you last saw Glen.”
“I’m not
particularly interested in what she’s been doing,” Glen said, looking anywhere
but at Rosie.
“Well,” she said
to Monq, “I can tell you what he’s been doing. He’s been mastering the art of
being an ass. You’ve changed, Glen.”
“I…” Monq started.
Glen cut him off.
“You know what your problem is, Elora Rose? You haven’t changed. You’re still
the same self-involved brat who thinks all she needs to do is prance back in
here… Oh, look at me, I’m practically royalty. Black Swan’s precious little
princess is sorry she made a mess.”
“You’re making
this harder than it needs to be.”
“Yeah? And who
gets to decide that? You? You get to decide everything, don’t you?”
“I made a mistake,
Glen. A big one. But what you’ve made is a gigantic fucking mess of yourself.”
“You don’t know
anything about me, little girl.”
Rosie stood up and
threw her napkin down. “I know you’re the one releasing the hogs of war.”
Glen sat back and
crossed his arms then gave her a smile that broke her and tugged at her heart
strings at the same time. “That’s dogs of war,” he said with a smugness that
made her want to smush his smarmy face.
“Forget what I
said about being sorry. All I really want from you is to stay away from me.” As
punctuation, on the way out of the room, she grabbed a pillow from Monq’s
settee and threw it at Glen, who simply caught it and laughed.
“Fine by me.”
“Loser. Do you even
have any friends?” She said it as a parting shot, but decided to add one last
thing on her way out the door. “AND I DON’T PRANCE!”
That last question
about having friends had hit a nerve with Glen. His taunting laughter melted
into a seething anger that had him breathing hard.
“Bitch,” he fired
back, but she was gone.
Monq said, “Well,
that went better than I expected.”
Glen stood,
glowering at Monq, then raised his dinner plate to shoulder height.
Monq managed to
say, “Please! Not the fireplace again!”
Glen huffed.
“How’s this?” He raised one bent leg and broke the plate over his own thigh.
As he stormed out
of the room Monq said, “Dinner at seven tomorrow night. Don’t be late.”
Glen gave him the
finger without turning around.
Monq sighed and
looked at the broken plate and ruined food on the new carpet. He was thinking
he was glad he’d opted for Alfredo sauce instead of marinara.
There was a soft
knock on the open door.
Glen turned to see
Rosie standing there, looking unbelievably beautiful and uncertain. He pinned
Monq with a look that should have caused him to explode into millions of tiny
bits. “You. Did. Not,” he said slowly and distinctly, each word dripping with
outrage.
“I did,” Monq said
casually as he rose from his chair. Looking at Rosie, he said, “Come in, my
dear. We’re having sea bass with pasta primavera and Alfredo sauce.”
He gestured toward
the table, but Rosie didn’t move. She looked at Glen and said, “I saw you a few
nights ago. In the Hub. You walked right by, but I guess you didn’t see me.”
Glen’s dark eyes
flashed as he sneered. “I saw you.”
“Oh,” she said in
a quiet voice. She searched his face and couldn’t find anything of the boy who
had loved her. In addition to the physical changes, he had a hard edge that
broadcasted bitterness.
Monq decided he’d
better establish himself as an arbiter or things were going to deteriorate
quickly. “I understand you two used to know each other.”
Glen smirked and
looked away, shaking his head. “No. Not really. I thought I knew her. Turned
out not.”
Rosie was
beginning to understand the depth of the hurt she’d delivered to her first
love. She’d been too selfish, too immature, and too shortsighted to grasp the
consequences of her rash behavior. Now that she’d come face to face with the
results, it looked like it was far too late to do anything about it. The damage
wasn’t just done. It had clearly reinfected itself again and again and festered
past the point of repair.
She stood there
staring at Glen, wondering if an apology would help or make things worse.
Looking at the way he was clenching his jaw, she decided things couldn’t get
any worse.
“I’m sorry,” she
said.
Glen’s gaze jerked
up to her eyes. He could see she was sincere and, if anything, it made him hate
her more. At least it made him angrier.
“Oh, good. Dinner
is here,” Monq exclaimed cheerfully.
All the while
dinner was being set out Glen and Rosie continued to look at each other, but
nothing changed. He was resolute in his rage. She was genuine in her
contrition.
When the waiter
was gone, Monq persuaded them to sit down at the table set for three.
“I don’t know how
you see this playing out, old man.” said Glen to Monq.
“There’s no reason
to be disrespectful to Mr. Monq,” Rosie chastised.
“Dr. Monq.” Monq
corrected.
Clearly Glen
didn’t like being chastised about manners, especially by Rosie. “I don’t know
how you see this playing out, Dr. Monq, but no good can come from it.”
By that time Rosie
was beginning to feel a little less sorry. “Oh? And why is that?” she asked.
“Because,
wunderkind, you can’t change the past with a couple of words like ‘sorry’.”
“I know that,
Glen. But apologizing is a start.”
“Really?” He bit
out the word. “A start toward what?”
“It’s a start
toward forgiveness and maybe, eventually, being friends again.”
He startled both
Monq and Rosie by laughing out loud. “FRIENDS!?! Friends don’t give each other
ultimatums and then disppear. FOR YEARS!”
Rosie sighed.
“You’re right. That was dumb. And thoughtless. And if I could take it back…”
“Well, you can’t.”
Glen fumed as he shoved a huge forkful of pasta into his mouth.
“Rosie, why don’t
you tell us what you’ve been doing since you last saw Glen.”
“I’m not
particularly interested in what she’s been doing,” Glen said, looking anywhere
but at Rosie.
“Well,” she said
to Monq, “I can tell you what he’s been doing. He’s been mastering the art of
being an ass. You’ve changed, Glen.”
“I…” Monq started.
Glen cut him off.
“You know what your problem is, Elora Rose? You haven’t changed. You’re still
the same self-involved brat who thinks all she needs to do is prance back in
here… Oh, look at me, I’m practically royalty. Black Swan’s precious little
princess is sorry she made a mess.”
“You’re making
this harder than it needs to be.”
“Yeah? And who
gets to decide that? You? You get to decide everything, don’t you?”
“I made a mistake,
Glen. A big one. But what you’ve made is a gigantic fucking mess of yourself.”
“You don’t know
anything about me, little girl.”
Rosie stood up and
threw her napkin down. “I know you’re the one releasing the hogs of war.”
Glen sat back and
crossed his arms then gave her a smile that broke her and tugged at her heart
strings at the same time. “That’s dogs of war,” he said with a smugness that
made her want to smush his smarmy face.
“Forget what I
said about being sorry. All I really want from you is to stay away from me.” As
punctuation, on the way out of the room, she grabbed a pillow from Monq’s
settee and threw it at Glen, who simply caught it and laughed.
“Fine by me.”
“Loser. Do you even
have any friends?” She said it as a parting shot, but decided to add one last
thing on her way out the door. “AND I DON’T PRANCE!”
That last question
about having friends had hit a nerve with Glen. His taunting laughter melted
into a seething anger that had him breathing hard.
“Bitch,” he fired
back, but she was gone.
Monq said, “Well,
that went better than I expected.”
Glen stood,
glowering at Monq, then raised his dinner plate to shoulder height.
Monq managed to
say, “Please! Not the fireplace again!”
Glen huffed.
“How’s this?” He raised one bent leg and broke the plate over his own thigh.
As he stormed out
of the room Monq said, “Dinner at seven tomorrow night. Don’t be late.”
Glen gave him the
finger without turning around.
Monq sighed and
looked at the broken plate and ruined food on the new carpet. He was thinking
he was glad he’d opted for Alfredo sauce instead of marinara.
Author Bio
New York Times and USA Today
bestselling author of eleven romances. Victoria's Knights of Black Swan series
won BEST PARANORMAL ROMANCE SERIES TWO YEARS IN A ROW. Reviewers Choice Awards,
The Paranormal Romance Guild.
Her paranormal romances come with
uniquely fresh perspectives on "imaginary" creatures, characters, and
themes. She adds a dash of scifi, a flourish of fantasy, enough humor to make
you laugh out loud, and enough steam to make you squirm in your chair. Her heroines
are independent femmes with flaws and minds of their own whether they are
aliens, witches, demonologists, psychics, past life therapists. Her heroes are
hot and hunky, but they also have brains, character, and good manners.
**Usually.
Victoria lives in The Woodlands,
Texas with her husband and a very smart, mostly black German Shepherd dog.
No comments:
Post a Comment