Electromagnetic pulses began a catastrophe that changed the world as we know it.
The next round of destruction brought monsters from hell that almost wiped out civilization. The third wave sent a new breed of monster into the mix called Shadow Warriors capable of killing hellhounds. Two years after the end of the devastating war, electromagnetic pulses start again, and this time humanity may not win.
King: Half man, half beast. Leader of the Shadow Warriors.
Marinah: Her job for the Federation is to bring King back into the fold to save humanity, again.
Problem: King and his men were betrayed by the new government and their memories are long and deadly.
Solution: Marinah must risk everything to prove she’s someone they can trust. Too bad she’s the wrong person for the job and too bad she’s the only person.
Targeted Age Group:: 18 and older
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I love gritty characters and wanted the perfect couple to lead my post-apocalyptic world and found them in King and Marinah. King is a Shadow Warrior and the reason humans survived the hellhound apocalypse. Humans then betrayed the Shadow Warriors and Marinah is sent to broker a treaty. I also wanted to include my personal fight for labeling GMO products and designed a fiction scenario where GMO's create the monsters.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
King is a product of my imagination. Marinah's character is based off my friends daughter who died 3 years ago. I've given Marinah a world where her family is dead and she's the survivor. It's been an incredible journey working with Marinah's mother and making a character who can live up to the real person this lovely lady was. Her mom says I've done it.
While the engines remain running, the door lifts open and warm sticky air slides inside. The mechanical stairs lower with a loud rumble shaking the plane and knocking my teeth together. I grip the shaky rail tightly and take my first step into the afternoon heat.
Do not fall, do not fall, I repeat silently in my head. I keep a steady course while squinting at my feet very much needing sunglasses to block the glare. A large shadow crosses in front of me. I lift my eyes and miss the next step. The flimsy rail buckles and I stumble down the next four steps. The man below doesn’t catch me as I expect—he steps back allowing me to fall to my hands and knees. With gravel digging into my skin causing instant pain, a high-pitched cry escapes my dry throat. If I stack embarrassing moments in my life, this is at the top of a very long list. I awkwardly glance up at a pair of scuffed military boots, faded camouflage pants, a belted waist, and a bare, muscled chest. No offered hand comes out and the whir of the steps lifting behind me has me glancing over my shoulder. The pilot is leaving, which means he probably isn’t looking out the window at my butt, which is on full display for him.
Turning around and bringing my face within inches of the Shadow Warrior’s boots, I retain my sense of humor and almost bend lower and kiss them. I think the Federation had something exactly like this in mind. What must I look like to the man standing above me? I’ve fallen so many times I rarely apologize for my awkwardness anymore. This could be one of those occasions when diplomacy trumps humiliation. We’ll see.
Using my arms, I gracelessly lift myself from the ground with a toothy grin plastered to my face. I wipe my dusty hands on my skirt, disregard my scraped knees, and lock gazes with unique, icy blue eyes. I shakily step back to put space between us while assessing King. I know it’s him. No one else could get away with the name and wear it supremely except the man before me. He isn’t handsome in a romance book sense but his square jaw, nose that’s been broken at least once, stunningly unfriendly eyes, and full lips strike that feminine place inside me that makes me want to pull my shoulders back and add a little sway to my hips.
I nervously place my hand out, grin still firmly in place. “I’m Marinah Church,” I say with a ton more bravado than I feel.
He ignores my hand and the shaky introduction, taking scary warrior, half-animal dude to an entirely new level. King bends slightly at the waist and leans his face to the side of mine. He inhales and then exhales—his hot breath flows across my cheek and neck sending shivers over my skin. The slight noise he makes is faint but even so I realize he’s… sniffing me. I smell him too, a pungent indescribable tang. Not unpleasant. Different.
I’m unsure of the etiquette for this situation and nerves make me pull the smile. His head moves lower and it occurs to me he’s gazing down my peach blouse. “I think you’ve smelled enough,” I snap because irritation is overshadowing intelligence.
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