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TWICE CURSEDCURSED BY BLOOD SAGA BOOK TWO
Genre: URBAN FANTASY
Publisher: COVENTRY PRESS LTD.
Number of pages: 310
Word Count: 111,000
Amazon // Smashwords
Psychic investigator, Lily Saburi is no stranger to the supernatural. Tough as nails, she’s a hunter in her own right, a once self-proclaimed vigilante that has joined forces with the man she once sought to kill, and now can’t live without. Sexy, Sean Leighton, Alpha of the Brethren of Weres. Their passion surpassed every obstacle set in front of them, yet in the wake of a mysterious virus threatening everyone they love, they are embroiled in an unforgiving scheme of political double dealing, hidden agendas and assassination, with Lily and Sean as primary targets. To stay together, they are forced apart.
But treachery follows hard on Lily’s heels when she returns home to find New York City bathed in a series of bloodbaths. Baffled, the police have no leads, so they call in their last line of defense to work the case. Lily.
Thrown together with homicide detective, Ryan Martinez, dangerous sparks fly as the two uncover the undead truth behind the killings. Long hidden secrets are revealed, as are truths too unbelievable to accept when Lily is kidnapped and Sean and Ryan have to work together to find her.
Revenge and the struggle for power all play a part in this urban fantasy suspense, taking you from the rocky coast of Maine to the heart of New York City, the NYPD and the vampire underground, where Weres and Vampires are forced to work together to solve the mystery of what’s tearing their veiled world apart from the inside out.
About this Author:
Her dark paranormal romance, Blood Legacy, is the first book in her Legacy Series, and takes you from New York City to the Costa del la Luz in Spain, to foggy London and the romance of Rome. The story also takes you back in time 300 years to a place rife with conflict and brutality, bringing an historical edge to my vampires, their lives, a love that spanned the centuries and the search for absolution and redemption that carries death in its wake. Hunter’s Blood and Twice Cursed are books one and two in Marianne Morea’s contemporary shifter series, Cursed by Blood. The story is set on the east coast of the U.S., taking you from the rocky coast of Maine to the heart of New York City, the NYPD and the vampire underground. Revenge and the struggle for power all play a part in this urban fantasy suspense, where Weres and Vampires are forced to work together to solve the mystery of what’s tearing their veiled world apart from the inside out.
In the meantime Marianne is also a founding member as well as a former President of The Paranormal Romance Guild, a not-for-profit organization for readers and authors of the genre. She’s now a PRG Board Member and Co-Chair of the PRG Event/Marketing Team. She is still writing, and when not sitting ‘bichok’ (butt in a chair hands on keyboard), she’s spending time with her husband and three kids, traveling to exciting, romantic places …for inspiration, of course! Who says dreams can’t come true?
Guest Post by Marianne Morea:
People always ask me about the inspiration for my stories, and I always answer that it comes from everyday life, from the people I meet and the places I go. My books to date have been mostly Urban Fantasy/Paranormal Romance. I love the idea of a ‘what if’ world. A world of magic and of things that go beyond what we can see and comprehend. I also love to laugh. Humor to me is the most powerful aphrodisiac around. I love to find humor in almost everything, even when life gets heavy. It’s the reason I try to make my readers laugh, even when my stories get dark.
If you’re like me, you take inventory from time to time—inventory of your face, your weight, your wardrobe, of where you are in your career, your relationships—your life. You compare and contrast how things were with how things are now.
I had a moment like that, recently.
This past weekend, my darling husband and I attended a fund raiser for our kid’s hockey team. It was a wonderful event. Good food, good music, great friends, and of course, lots and lots of pictures were taken.
That’s when I realized things were no longer the same.
As we sat laughing and having a terrific time, cameras were busy snapping candids and all was right with the world—that is until I hit the back button. I started scrolling through the picture and found myself staring the small lcd screen on the back of the camera, the words, “Oh my God, is that what I really look like?” reverberating off the walls of my brain.
Why is it that men always seem to get better looking with age, but as a woman approaches the most vital, most productive, most creative time in her life, everything else seems to go south along with her boobs? It’s the ultimate betrayal. Mother Nature’s practical joke on womankind.
The next morning I got up and again, took inventory. As I stared at myself in the mirror, it was the first time I saw shades of my mother’s face looking back at me. The transformation wasn’t complete, but the outlines…along with the crow’s feet…were there. At that point, I closed my mouth and started laughing. In fact I laughed so hard I had to cross my legs. I realized then, that for an Urban Fantasy author such as me, this was shape-shifting in its most basic form.
Squaring my shoulders, I realized I had a choice. I could view this new shift as either a badge of honor or a sign of decay. But which was it going to be?
I thought about the heroines I write, and how they are strong in self, and how they temper that strength with compassion. How they have personal obstacles to overcome, emotional truths they must face and accept and how I give them the strength to do so and come out of their struggles better people.
Like with one of my stories, it became a matter of point of view, or as writers call it, POV. Was I going to allow myself to wallow in what the world tells me is youthful and beautiful, or was I going to do some world building of my own and create my own definition of beauty and worth? If I could endow my heroines with the emotional strength to face whatever my imagination threw at them, they how sad would it be if I couldn’t do the same? Would that make me a fraud?
I stopped laughing and looked at myself again, and realized for my own sake, and for the sake of the two girls I was trying to raise until the day they found ME staring back at THEM from some mirror, that I needed to place my bets on my own definitions. After all, words are my first line of defense, and whether or not they are on the written page or in the mantra I tell myself every day, they are powerful.
I am powerful. I am beautiful. I am woman. What’s your definition?
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