What’s Love Got to Do With It? @LiviaQuinn Says Everything! #romance #FridayReads #books


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Oh oh oh, what’s love got to do with it, got to do with it? In the case of romance, everything!

 

 

One of the reasons romance is the most popular genre in the world is the emotional connection we feel with the hero and heroine as they overcome obstacles to be together. And there’s something for everyone – small town, sweet, contemporary, historical, suspense, thriller, military, erotic, steampunk, paranormal…the list goes on.

 

 

When I read men’s or women’s fiction, while I enjoy the story, I’m not nearly as invested unless there’s a building relationship between the hero and his significant other. With romance, I can enjoy the ride knowing there will be a happily-ever-after, or, in these days of series, at least a happy for now. One of my favorites is a Sandra Brown romance thriller. While I’m not likely to encounter a sexy undercover FBI agent on my doorstep, imagining a happy-ever-after that comes out of the blue is thrilling and makes for a great escape.

 

 

In my book Blame it On the Moon, Sheriff Jack Lang is preparing to fight the supernatural bad guys he hadn’t even known existed a couple weeks before, while his girlfriend, Tempest Pomeroy and others lie fading from the effects of the Para-moon. Everything – their lives, their relationship and the safety of the world beyond Destiny is in the balance. He can’t lose this fight.

 

 

What is your favorite genre of romance and why?

 

 

BlameIOTM web copy

 

Blame it on the Moon Blurb:

It’s the height of the Para-moon and Sheriff Jack Lang is up to his ‘6’ in alligators. Defending those weaker than himself is in his DNA which is what drove him to become a Navy pilot. Who is he kidding? Alligators he could handle! But supernatural bad guys…

 

Ragtag doesn’t begin to describe his band of temporary ’heroes’. If he has to go to war with the group that showed up at dawn, he might as well start cutting up white sheets and attaching them to garden stakes.

 

With Tempe and the other Paramortals ill or incapacitated and the sudden appearance of beings he’s never heard of, will Jack be able to keep Destiny out of the hands of their enemies for the rest of the power down and—very important—keep the humans in the dark?

 

It’s only twenty-four hours. If worse comes to worse, he has a dragon on his side and a few surprises up his sleeve. “Yippe, ki, yi…” But a lot can happen in twenty-four hours and things don’t always go as planned.

 

 

Excerpt:

(Conor and Montana visit the Faerie King)

 

“Oomph!” I sprang to my feet, ready to fight if it was a trick and to give Conor a talking-to but the three were already nearing the porch, leaving me to bring up the rear.

 

I heard the chorus of excited fairies before I made it to the front door.

 

“It’s a dwagon. A weel dwagon,” two seemingly young voices screamed.

 

“He’s beautiful.” That was a low pitched sultry sounding faerie that sent my hackles up.

 

“Mr. Dwagon, can I touch your scales…”

 

“Can you bwiev fire?” Finally, a male voice.

 

The excitement went on until finally, stranded outside the monstrous entrance until I could get someone’s attention I yelled, “Can I get a word in with Petre and Arabella please? We’re on time clock here.”

 

Every face in the Inn— all shapes, sizes, and colors of fairie turned to me and I realized I’d underestimated the race, understanding now, too late, the size of a fairy was of no consequence. Having a twenty-foot tall king was like a colossal diversion. It gave one a feeling of superiority as if there were only two fae who could be a threat when in actuality it was a house full of deadly assassins, who could kill a hundred different ways—each.

 

Even the tiniest pixie seated on Petre’s long narrow leg could probably kill me. This was an entirely magical world and I was out of my depth. The minuscule little fairy on Petre’s knee shivered with the desire to take me on. It was written all over his face from his angry glowing eyes to his posture which was leaning forward from his desire to attack, only Petre’s thumb on his backside keeping him from leaping the distance to my throat.

 

I cleared my throat and tried to scrape up a modicum of humility. I knew what the word meant but like my thoughts earlier on arrogance, I hadn’t had much call for this trait either, and quite frankly hadn’t ever seen a use for it.

 

Conor waited for me to dig myself out of the hole I’d dug. His brow lifted, waiting. Petre looked like he wanted to let the little fairie have his way. Only Arabella looked as if she understood my outburst. She was Tempe’s friend so she knew me by extension of that friendship.

 

I kept my eyes on Bella’s. Was she trying to send me a message? Try a little humble pie.

 

“I… apologize, King, to you and all of your…er…subjects…er, family. I am a warrior and…” The truth will do. I heard the voice in my head and looked back at Arabella who smiled. The truth, right. I started over. “I do apologize. My urgency and warrior nature leaves me little regard for diplomacy. That is something I must learn obviously. May I enter and speak with you about our current crisis? Time really is of the essence.”

 

Conor’s shoulders relaxed and I felt a squeeze of my heart when I saw his swords, which had been lifted a half a foot out of the sheath behind his shoulders, settle back into place at the ready should we need to fight our way out. He smiled at me. It made me feel all gooey inside. Sheesh, these emotions were new, totally new, like never in four hundred years new.

 

Petre’s friendly facade went dark, his face and the musculature in his body changed, the bones nearly protruding through the skin, giving him the appearance of a deadly predator with a long menacing mouthful of razor like teeth. A glance at the other formally cheerful fae revealed similar changes. And the glowing green eyes and household now all looked at me like I was the next course.

 

For the first time in my life I felt a strong compunction to run, not out of fear— Okay, I could admit to a bit of healthy fear—just this once I would have run, though I doubted it would have done any good without my Dinnshencha power. The vamp gave me speed and strength but I was badly outnumbered by a species that were actually superior to vamps in many ways. Good thing I had Conor. I noticed even Petre cut his eyes toward Conor. The desire to eat me must be pretty strong. Better deliver the message before they lost control.

 

“Um, I know you’d prefer to eat me more than listen to me, or divide me up with the clan…”

 

Petre growled, “I don’t share…”

 

I heard Conor swords slip out of their sheaths. Petre’s posture relaxed slightly. “I was asked to inform you of the Chaos and beg your assistance.” Petre’s eyes flared and the view of his teeth became more prominent as he gave what I assumed – that comment seemed to give him particular pleasure.

 

And if birds could be said to roll their eyes, I would swear that’s what Petre’s Queen had aimed in his direction. Then Petre said, “Kneel, vampire.”

 

 

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About the Author:

Livia Quinn is a DC native who lives by the bayou in Louisiana. She believes in the power of love. To see excerpts from all her books visit https://liviaquinn.com

 

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Jack’s Thinking It Couldn’t Get Any Worse. Wrong! @LiviaQuinn #dragons #POTLReads #IARTG


BlameIOTM web copy

 

Is it Mayberry or Middle Earth? Well, duh… Ages ago a pact was made between the supernatural species – shifters, djinn, dragons, vampires and fae – to protect humans. Just don’t tell the humans…

 

One meets his destiny on the road he takes to avoid it!

 

Jack Lang has a giant problem, more than one actually.

 

As a former Navy pilot and now sheriff of Destiny, Jack’s job is to protect and defend. It’s in his DNA. He thought this town was going to be the perfect, safe place to raise his teenage daughter, kinda like Mayberry. Wrong. He’d handled one shock after another, and rather well he thought, considering he had to accept the fact that his girfriend could turn into a volcanic thundercloud, her father and brother were djinn and the newcomer to town was a black er, dragon.

 

Well, that was nothing compared to this newest revelation. Apparently something else was part of his DNA as well…

 

This might be the last straw. But knowing Destiny, there’d always be another haystack.

 

 

Excerpt:

*Jack*

 

Some things had been irrevocably changed in Destiny, not the least of which, my life and Jordie’s and our acceptance of Destiny’s other nature. I’d had reservations about how a human sheriff could fit in to this world of Tempe’s, but so far it seems like it will be no different than defending different cultures and races like I have in my other jobs.

 

Ryan would never be the same, and I was sure a few citizens had probably seen more strange things than they had on the last Hobbit movie. Dylan hadn’t come out so well. I wondered what the Paramortals would be able to do for him. He didn’t seem to be the type to accept his new life as a mere-dog, or a wolf pup.

 

Kat had left a text on my phone saying he’d runaway yet again and asked me to contact Conor to see if he might talk some sense into him. How did she know they’d even be able to communicate? I’d like to be on hand for that little dragon-canine chat.

 

I walked down the hallway past Jordie’s room. Flipping the light on in the bathroom, I put the toilet seat up and took care of business, then I stepped over to the sink to wash my hands. Something on the periphery of my vision caught my eye. I turned toward the mirror, then jumped back landing against the door.

 

“What the—”

 

The face of a dragon stared back at me. What the hell? Now they were communicating from another plane by appearing in mirrors. I moved toward the sink, squinting at him.

 

Could this be the dragon who’d helped Conor? He was different than Conor, silvery, his scales like shiny clear crystals. Pretty, almost. Maybe it was a female. So what did he or she want? The eyes were a light silver and the head had a sleeker shape than our black dragon friend.

 

I yawned. And snorted when he mimicked me. This fellow was some kind of comic. What did he want?

 

In the mirror the dragon’s silver skin fluttered and I felt a shiver on my own shoulders. I scratched my chest. There was some kind of image forming on his chest—his human chest.

 

My eyes widened.

 

His widened.

 

The chest in the mirror was the same one I’d been looking at for the last several years, except, with rapt attention I watched as the crystalline scales began to spread down his shoulders across his chest, across the swirling image.

 

My mouth gaped open. When his mouth opened it revealed lots of graduated teeth and four exceptional canines. My hands went to my mouth in shock—and grabbed the wide snout of the dragon. It was… I was… No, no, no, no…”No!”

 

“Tempeeee.”

 

 

*Tempe*

 

Zeus’ flying pigs!

 

“Tempeeee.”

 

I lurched from the bed. Where was Jack? I ran down the hall toward the guest bathroom, but he wasn’t there. There was scraping and bumping coming from the other end of the house near the kitchen, like clumsy moving men in too small a space.

 

“Jack?” It was not a big house. “Jack!” He must have gone to the back porch. I took off in that direction, suddenly concerned over what I’d find.

 

Why wasn’t he answering me? On the other end of the hallway there were gouges in the green sheetrock. Concern turned to fear. Had he gotten into a fight with a burglar?

 

The back door was open, the screen door hanging on one hinge. I stopped on the threshold to the small back porch. Menori came alive inside me, not threatened I realized, but excited.

 

In the middle of the backyard—shootfire—taking up the entire green space that was Jack’s backyard was the most beautiful dragon I’d ever seen. He was not as big as Conor, maybe fifteen feet tall. Light from the full moon reflected on his luminescent scales, like Swarovski crystals, shooting brilliant spears of rainbow fire into the trees and across the fence into the neighbors’ backyards.

 

His skin rippled from head to tail and when I looked into his eyes, I gasped, recognizing him, and had to stifle a laugh. “Jack, what—” I couldn’t help it. I laughed.

 

 

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Author Biography:

Love happens…when you least expect it. So does the weather. So magic in one form or another, and storms, are at the heart of most Livia Quinn books. A DC native who lives on the bayou in Louisiana, Livia has stored up a wealth of quirky stories from her jobs as a mail lady, sales person, plant manager and small business owner that she’s anxious to share with her readers. Visit her on her new website https://liviaquinn.com

 

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Blame it on the Moon by @LiviaQuinn #BookReview #IARTG #TuesdayBookBlog


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Title: Blame it on the Moon

Author: Livia Quinn

Genre: Paranormal Romance, Southern Urban Fantasy

 

Book Blurb:

It’s the height of the Para-moon and Sheriff Jack Lang is up to his ‘6’ in alligators. Defending those weaker than himself is in his DNA which is what drove him to become a Navy pilot. But who is he kidding? Alligators he could handle! Supernatural bad guys, well…

 

With Tempe and the other Paramortals ill or incapacitated and the sudden appearance of beings he’s never heard of, will Jack be able to keep Destiny out of the hands of their enemies for the rest of the power down? After all, it’s only twenty-four hours.

 

If worse comes to worse, he has a dragon on his side and a few surprises up his sleeve. “Yippe, ki, yi…” But a lot can happen in twenty-four hours and things don’t always go as planned.

 

My Review:

I love the Storm Lake West series and was so excited to read this installment. There’s a lot going on and Jack is in over his head. Paramortals are ill and/or dying, big bad supernatural being are coming out of the woodwork and Jack’s thinking it couldn’t get any worse. Wrong! His girlfriend’s estranged mother sweeps into town and the tension goes into overdrive when she “accidentally” makes things worse.

Jack needs all the help he can get so he calls on his fellow Navy pilot and current deputy, Ryan, along with an old friend. Suddenly, things are looking up for Jack and his crew of misfits. He’s got a one-man army in Conor (also a dragon) and just when things are looking good, all hell unleashes. Will Jack defend the defenseless Paramortals or will it be too much for him to handle?

As a gal who loves big bads and people who kick total ass, I loved this book! The creatures, plot twists, added tension and storylines helped to make this an incredible book but it was the battle scenes and poignant descriptions that sealed the deal. As I read, my heart pounded and it was like I was watching a movie. The action was intense and I was worried my favorite characters might die. I white-knuckled my Kindle the whole time. The ending was satisfactory and there was a gasping moment at the end I didn’t see coming.

I can’t wait to read the next installment in the Storm Lake West series and I’m totally addicted to these characters!!!

 

Favorite Character: My favorite character in this story has got to be Conor. I loved the softness of this Warrior/Dragon in the midst of pure chaos. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a warrior through and through but he has a compassionate side that made me love him. Plus, he’s got that deep Scottish accent that I can hear whenever I read a scene with him in it. * swoons *

 

Favorite Quote:

“Aye, mon,” the deep Scottish voice said over Ryan’s shoulder. “He is a talking dragon.”

 

Ryan whirled, the rifle leveled at Conor’s now powerful human chest, but he didn’t shoot. I watched as Ryan’s chin rose and his eyes narrowed assessing the warrior with the gleaming swords on his back, the massive muscular frame, the steady amber gaze. There were still some dragon parts that hadn’t yet humanized.

 

My Rating:  5+ stars

 

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Author Biography:

I’m Livia Quinn, a DC native and transplant to Louisiana where the people and environment inspired my Storm Lake series. On Storm Lake West you’ll find the Destiny Paramortals, a cozy paranormal series with a cast of quirky characters. And on the East end, contemporary military romance and romantic suspense – ex-military guys and sexy cover models who are committed to their community.

 

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Reviewed by: Mrs. N

Blame it on the Moon by @LiviaQuinn #PNR #IAN1 #bookspotlight


Blame it on the Moon

Blame it on the Moon is book 4 in the continuing saga of the Destiny Paramortals. While the other series based around the communities of Storm Lake can be read as stand alones, the Destiny Paramortals should be read in order, beginning with Storm Crazy.

Book Blurb:

It’s the height of the Para-moon and Sheriff Jack Lang is up to his ‘6’ in alligators. Defending those weaker than himself is in his DNA which is what drove him to become a Navy pilot. But who is he kidding? Alligators he could handle! Supernatural bad guys, well…

With Tempe and the other Paramortals ill or incapacitated and the sudden appearance of beings he’s never heard of, will Jack be able to keep Destiny out of the hands of their enemies for the rest of the power down? After all, it’s only twenty-four hours.

If worse comes to worse, he has a dragon on his side and a few surprises up his sleeve. “Yippe, ki, yi…” But a lot can happen in twenty-four hours and things don’t always go as planned.

Exclusive Excerpt:

Jack

You can’t scare me. I have a teenage daughter.

The idea had come to me as soon as I found out Jordie was a Paramortal. Would the medical examiner see anything weird about her blood? Maybe not since it was during the power down. I knew I had bigger priorities than to satisfy my curiosity about Georgeanne’s family tree, but this… was like a sign. The means to have her checked out had fallen into my lap, or under my fingernails. I called the ME, grabbed the evidence kit from my vehicle and went back inside to find Jordie. She and Tempe were having a tête-à-tête, sharing some secret. Probably talking about me. My heart lurched at her easy laughter with Tempe.

“Jordie,” I called. She looked up and like flipping the switch to off, the attitude returned. Still irritated with me. I could see it in the set of her shoulders, and in her squinty eyed gaze so like my own.

God, I hoped I wasn’t seeing what I wanted to see. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

She glared for another few seconds letting Tempe see she was miffed with me, which got me a quizzical look from Tempe. “Family business,” I explained, and mouthed later when Jordie leaned down to kiss her cheek.

“Be right back,” Jordie said not looking at me when she passed. With more “tude” then our dragon, she stomped to the front porch. If I needed any further proof of the moons’ influence I had only to look at Jordie’s actions. My normally even-tempered, easy-going, and easy to reason with daughter had turned into a stereotypical problem teen with terrible judgment. All she needed was Goth-wear to complete the rebel persona. Hurry, sundown.

While I closed the door to the porch, she leaned against one of the columns, her jaw clenched, arms crossed, ears closed. At least that’s what it felt like.

I took a deep breath and dove in. “Jordie, there’s no fun way to put this. I need you to give me a blood sample. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Her arms went around her sides as her eyes widened. She looked like a trapped animal, which didn’t do great things for my heart. The gum chewing took on furious levels. “What the—”

“Don’t you dare say it,” I gritted and she backed off. But then it got worse. Tears sprang into her eyes and dropped down those pretty pink cheeks. I reached for her but she batted me away with her hands. It hurt, even more than I’d expected, knowing as I did that she wasn’t herself. Because of Georgeanne’s bizarre actions during her life, we’d bonded more than most father-daughter relationships, which made the contrast in her attitude today even more pronounced. Just yesterday she feared her mother’s presence in Destiny would “ruin her life”, or repel Tempe. So how was I supposed to explain this to her?

I did what any man does when faced with the tears of a female he loves. I lied. “I… want to make sure you don’t have some weird infection. You seem a little warm.” I exacerbated the lie by placing the back of my hand against her forehead.

The look she gave me and her posture cried, Puleeze, you can come up with something better than that. But I put on my cop face and waited her out. Finally she relaxed. I said, “Please, baby. Humor me. You can’t tell me you’re not curious.”

The chewing stopped and she heaved out a sigh. “Okay, but not you. That would be just too weird.”

I laughed, without humor. “Okay. I’ll ask Montana.” Maybe this would lead to a way to break the whole truth to her, another day. Whatever her Paramortal identity was going to be she wouldn’t have it today anyway.

“Give me a hug?” She crossed her arms once again and glared at me. “Right, pushing my luck. All right, I’ll send Montana up.”

She pushed past me to go inside, but turning back at the last minute Jordie’s mournful eyes bored into mine, “Daddy—”

Her sad eyes nearly broke my heart. I swallowed, “Yes, hon.”

“I never had a tattoo.”

She turned to stomp away, but turned back again when I said, “And Jordie?”

“Uh-huh?”

Her expression was so young and vulnerable, I ached at what was in store for her. “I love you.”

With a shrug of her shoulders she walked into the house and closed the door.

Buy Links:

Amazon http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B012X9HWJC

Author Central http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00KPDXXE2

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Author Biography:

Livia Quinn is a D.C. native living on the bayou in Louisiana. She began pursuing her dream of publication just before a little known event called Katrina. With several interruptions in her career, all involving weather, it’s only natural that storms would be at the center of many of her stories.

She has written eight books based in the communities surrounding Storm Lake—an infamous, though fictional lake in Southern Louisiana. She’s been a business owner and professional entertainer, salesperson, plant manager, computer trainer, and mail lady. In her stories, as in life, there should always be at least a little magic.

Social Media Links:

Sign up for my newsletter at http://liviaquinn.com to be included in prizes and news and see the Storm Lake pages to view a map of Storm Lake as well as a Glossary of terms, Character list and Paramortal language.

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Blame it on the Moon by @LiviaQuinn #kindledeal #IAN1 #PNR #99cents


 Blame it on the Moon

Title: Blame it on the Moon (Book 4) is the newest release in the Storm Lake: Destiny Paramortals Series

 Author: Livia Quinn

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Book Blurb:

It’s the height of the Para-moon and Sheriff Jack Lang is up to his ‘6’ in alligators. Defending those weaker than himself is in his DNA which is what drove him to become a Navy pilot. But who is he kidding? Alligators he could handle! Supernatural bad guys, well…

With Tempe and the other Paramortals ill or incapacitated and the sudden appearance of beings he’s never heard of, will Jack be able to keep Destiny out of the hands of their enemies for the rest of the power down? After all, it’s only twenty-four hours.

If worse comes to worse, he has a dragon on his side and a few surprises up his sleeve. “Yippe, ki, yi…” But a lot can happen in twenty-four hours and things don’t always go as planned.

Excerpt:

Montana

What!? I can be humble.

With my thighs clamped tightly to Conor’s neck and my right hand fisted in his crest, I thrilled to the feeling of his rippling muscles between my thighs. He flew with such smooth grace. I’d never dreamed of knowing a dragon, much less riding so massive and elegant and deadly a creature as Conor. And if anyone had told me I’d fall so completely for one, I would have fought a death match to prove him or her wrong. The truth was, I was mortifyingly gone over the dragon knight. Conor was the being, man or creature, who was perfect for me.

Given my job description—the dispensing of abusive males of any species, it was amazing that I’d found Flambé. I hadn’t found him though. Hadn’t even recognized him the first time, when I’d met him in his magnificent dragon form. He’d saved my ass and that of my charge and taken out the abuser with a precisely aimed blast of his fiery breath. I hadn’t known him in his fine human form either, even when he asked me to dance with him to Imagine Dragons’ “Battle Cry” at the Mardi Gras ball—not until he called me “Victoria”, the name he’d seen on my sinfully sexy lingerie that first day.

I hadn’t gone exactly easy either. I required proof of his skill, his power and his mission. I’d gotten it, and here I was flying high over Destiny. As a strapping six-foot-plus warrior-goddess, I gloried in feeling tiny as I took in the landscape under his massive wings.

In front of me I saw Conor’s compact red-rimmed ears laid back for a smoother ride and his long nose/snout/whatever diverting the wind away from my perch behind his head. The way the wind lifted his crimson lips away from his gums made him look like he was grinning. I giggled. Gods, I giggled at the whistling sound the wind created going through his teeth. And there was surely pleasure in those half closed eyes.

“You’re not going to run into a 747 taking off from New Orleans are you? Maybe you should keep your eyes open.”

I felt the rumble go through his lungs and expand up through his ribs and back, like a giant vibrator. “Ach, are ye scared, my wee dragon lass?”

He still called me his wee dragon to remind me of our first meeting when I’d been able to produce no more than fog from the temporary dragon I’d shifted into. And he was just male enough, arrogant enough and dragon enough—okay, so the use of dragon and arrogant was massively redundant, but he just had to keep reminding me that he’d rescued me. I knew that, but even feeling what I did for Conor, it was difficult. Dinnshenchas are arrogant as well. Our kind of arrogance comes from a proven competence in our abilities.

My vamp side brought something extra to the table, so I’d known that even during the power down I’d be more than just an average fighter. Vampire had only been a part of my nature, though, since the early 1900’s and hadn’t ever been tested. That, I was loath to admit, caused me a measure of trepidation.

I watched Conor’s wide black wings guide us into a gentle arc over the Faerie Inn. The verdant green lawn in early March was a sure sign someone besides humans lived at the Inn. We’d just seen a late snowfall at the end of a very cold winter. The circular drive lead to an unimaginably grand peach colored mansion with a curved set of staircases flanking a forty-foot golden door. When tourists saw the “private residence” from the road with staircases that looked like two giant swans, beak to beak, they simply saw one of the grandest antebellum homes in the south.

I was curious about the reception I’d receive. Faeries didn’t like vampires. What an understatement. Their feelings lay somewhere between hate and apoplectic, but Phoebe had been right—they loved dragons. The merest of pixies loved the fiercest of dragons.

Conor’s wings curled under at the tip and I dug my gloved hands into the skin beneath his neck armor as the wind skimmed over our heads. He glided to the ground and landed in the middle of the front lawn with nary a jolt.

I said, “I hope you’re fast enough to take them out before they kill me.”

“It is forbidden for me to kill innocents, Branislava, especially Paramortals.”

He was such a stick in the mud about the rules. “I wish you’d reminded me of that at Harmony,” I said, as the two-story golden doors slid open and Petre strode out, fearlessly stopping nose to nose with the dragon. It was an amazing sight. Conor was easily forty feet tall and I could see Petre’s excited eyes just below Conor’s long nose. The faerie king bowed to Conor, and Conor’s massive head dipped suddenly, nearly throwing me to the ground. I saw the surprise on Petre’s face when he spotted me, and the instant narrowing of those slanty purple eyes.

Then Conor changed and I was dropping through mid-air to land in his outstretched arms. The faces of Petre and Arabella moved in, up close and personal to assess the threat, and to show off their pointy-toothed grins.

“Is this where we all show our teeth and swear allegiance to the one with the biggest bite?” I looked up at Conor, whose eyes were filled with amusement. “Show us yours, Conor.” That would be the end of that.

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Photo Credit: blog.tmcnet.com
Photo Credit: blog.tmcnet.com

SALE: Until the end of August get book 1 of the series, Storm Crazy,  for $0.99 here:

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Author Biography:

Livia Quinn is a D.C. native living in Louisiana. She began pursuing her dream of publication after a layoff and a little known event called Katrina in 2005. With several interruptions in her career, all involving weather, it’s only natural that storms would be at the center of many of her stories. She is a business owner and professional singer, salesperson, plant manager, computer trainer, and mail lady. She has written eight books based in the communities surrounding Storm Lake— an infamous, though fictional lake in Southern Louisiana. She has never met a Tempestaerie or a sexy Aussie gemhunter, but she recently met some hunky cover models in the name of ‘research’ so see…Anything Can Happen!

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