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where i play the role of romance author, reader, and geek

The (Incomplete) First Chapter of Suit & Fangs

7/24/2013

4 Comments

 
I don't want to give everything away, but with this part of the first chapter, I want you all to have an idea of how it will be for Suit & Fangs and other books to be set in the same world as The Moretti Werewolf novels. They're a lot darker, but not to worry - the sizzling chemistry between our H and h will still be there. :) After all, building relationships between two opposites is one of my favorite parts of the job. 
And so without further ado, here's our last sneak peek of SNF.
Chapter One

Luka & Caylie

6 Months Ago

 

Her eighteenth birthday was going to suck. She meant it in a literal sense, knowing she was only a few seconds away of having her throat sucked by a horribly aroused Caro male.

She leaned back against the club’s cold granite wall, indifferent to the hot, jerky breaths against her throat. Her sensitive ears picked up the second the sound of fangs flashed out, her skin prickling as the guy’s body over hers trembled in ill-suppressed excitement.

He was incredibly aroused and getting more so with each second that she let pass without moving away. Any moment now, he would be able to taste her in the most primal sense for all Caros, something similar to having public sex.

The other guests in the bar weren’t bothering to hide the fascination in their gazes. Caylie could feel their eyes feasting on her and this – this nameless guy – over her body. She knew what they were thinking. The Caylie Sonora everyone knew, once as untouchable as the sun, was no more. This Caylie was different and darker, the embodiment of all their forbidden desires.

Almost every guy in the club were panting, their fangs threatening to burst out the longer Caylie did nothing to prevent a nobody from mauling her in full view of everyone.  

Luka Georgiades.

Her eyes shot wide open at the sound of that terribly beautiful name, her attention immediately drawn to the 3D TV screen mounted in one corner of the bar. As this was a Caro establishment, there was no need to pretend they were humans. They served drinks with blood, played music so loud human ears would have long started to bleed, and the TV tuned in to a Caro-owned network that required special wiring and coding to access.

“Officially endorsed by the Lyccan Council…strong contender for the Advisor position...maybe no longer an eligible bachelor by the end of the year?”

Something inside Caylie snapped as she heard the last juicy bit of rumor the reporter was delivering with relish.

The scene with the reporter faded, but he continued with a voiceover as the screen revealed a politely smiling Luka stepping out of his limousine. Young, dashing, powerful, and with a fucking overly made-up bitch at his side.

Caylie hissed in contempt. A nouveau riche upstart. Was that what he was into these days? Maybe this cheap bitch was so kinky that she made Caylie look boring?

Her heart shuddered with rage as the woman at his side tiptoed to blow into his ear, like it needed a tornado to get clean. Really? That was what he wanted? A cougar who liked to play porn-style janitor in public?

She waited for Luka to move away at the disgusting display of intimacy, but he did not. If anything, his smile actually widened.

Caylie’s blood went cold – an indication of fear for humans but for Caros it was a warning – a sign of the most devastating fury.

Why?

Even after so many months of crying, of going through a thousand what-if situations in her mind, Caylie still could not understand why he had left her, why Luka had to throw her away in such a publicly humiliating manner when normally even the thought of sneezing in public would have been loathsome for him.

And he had done it at her come-out ball no less, as if Luka wanted to give her every reason to hate him.

She pushed the guy away, no longer uncaring, no longer dead to the world.

Her eyes, glowing midnight black, flicked back to the screen, where Luka had started answering questions, his arm wrapped casually around the woman’s waist.

Her fingers curled, sharp nails almost slicing into the flesh of her palms.

Luka Georgiades was going to pay.

She would damn make sure of it.

~~~

Violet eyes turned to midnight black as he pictured his fingers encircling her slender neck before squeezing, punishing her for daring to let another man soil her skin with his touch. When he saw the guy’s mouth open, fangs glistening with saliva as they start to stretch out, his own fangs extended as a snarl rapidly made its way out of his throat.

“ LUKA.”

Claws bit into his shoulders, the pain snatching him back from his murderous hallucinations just before he snapped and killed someone for good. He crashed back to reality with a gasp, the blackness in his eyes taking more than a moment to recede.

“Breathe,” Domenico Moretti urged him quietly. The werewolf prince’s gaze was concerned when he met Luka’s turbulent violet eyes.

“I told you,” Luka said in an uncharacteristically revealing tone as bitterness twisted his perfectly shaped lips into a grim smile. “I can’t handle being this close to her anymore.”

Domenico shook his head sharply. “That’s not true. You can and you will. I won’t lose one of my best allies to vampires just because you’re too fucking---”

“NO.” Luka’s head snapped back to the club, his eyes unerringly finding Caylie amidst the glittering backdrop. He had heard his name on the TV screen, knew what the report would be---

The sight of Caylie pushing off the guy panting above her should have relieved Luka, but it didn't. He could sense her hurt, welling inside her like it came from a bottomless pit. So much pain – was he the one who caused her all that?

That kind of pain didn’t kill, he reminded himself. But if he came back into her life, if he gave in to the temptation of claiming her, the kind of pain it could cause would be irrevocable. If he came back to her, sooner or later Caylie would die – in his own hands and there was no going back after that.

  

The Brethren

Present Time

 

A uniformed guard suddenly blocked the way of my parents, heels clicking hard against the ground when they were about to open the doors leading into the Discipline Hall. The sound echoed in the enormous marbled hallway, and I tried not to shiver. Only this part of the Brethren was free from the gay and busy crowds that filled its magnificently vast and opulently decorated ballrooms every day. This was also the part that all the Caros painstakingly avoided. Once you crossed this hall, there was a chance you’d never come out alive of it.

The guard’s gaze lingered on me. I had a feeling he thought I deserved to be here, with how disgraceful I looked. My hair was a mess, my makeup ruined, and one strap of my sparkly flapper dress was torn, leaving it to rest limply against my bare arm.

Image to Caros was everything, and yet here I was---a living blasphemy of everything our race stood for.

“Our apologies, sir, madam, but only violators may enter.” The guard’s face was expressionless when he spoke.

Violators were just a misdeed away from traitors. Violators could be punished, reprimanded, or tortured but for traitors there was no hope, no stay for execution.

All eyes were suddenly on me – the violator.

Panic eclipsed every emotion I felt for one fraction of a second, but I managed to hold it back. I forced a smile. Caros were never supposed to show their real feelings – and especially not the kind that put us at a disadvantage.

“I’ll go alone.” This was what I wanted. This was what I told myself I would die trying to have – and now was the time to prove it.

I didn’t turn to catch one last look at my parents when the ten-foot-tall steel doors closed behind me, not even when I heard Catherine Sonora’s sharp intake of breath as I gently extricated my hand from her tight grasp. My mom might seem frail, a tiny society blonde who only knew how to spend money – but she was more than that. She was a fighter, but I had a feeling she’d break down if she knew how terrified I was at this moment.

The Discipline Hall was glaringly bright and intensely humid. Sunlight burned my skin here and there, with golden rays managing to sneak past the mosaic art that made up the hall’s ceiling, the rainbow shades of glass leaving stinging spots on my flesh.

The mosaic portrait was like something straight out of an urban fantasy book cover – an Armageddon scene depicted in the most elegant selection of colors. It was but a taste of how violators could be punished, of how Caros still insisted on finding grace and beauty even in the way they inflicted pain.

Our ancient artists had vividly painted with glass vampires dying in a pool of blood in one corner, a murder of vidanges nesting on top of pine trees as they feasted on human flesh, werewolves howling on a full moon atop scraggly mountains while Souris with their pastel-colored wings, the mortal kindred of angels, soared into the midnight sky.

And behind it all was our race, infamous for our standoffish stance in wars between non-human lines. Or at least that was so before it became obvious to everyone that an alliance was all that stood between our race and eventual annihilation.

My eyes were stinging by the time I stopped a small respectful distance away from the judge’s bench, which was twice as large as what you’d normally see in human courtrooms. I had to crane my neck all the way up just to meet the eyes of the reviewer.

Here was yet another expressionless Caro, dressed in Brethren’s judicial robes, hood down to reveal sleek black hair and piercing silver eyes. She was young, probably not more than a few years older, but that wasn’t what shocked me.

Age wasn’t a factor in our society. What made me stumble was the red rim around her left eye. I couldn’t believe someone like her existed and that she was one of our reviewers. I glanced at her eyes again, but the blood rim around her left eye was gone, making me wonder if the Discipline Hall was rigged to make its defendants hallucinate into telling the truth.

“State your case.”

Nails digging deep into my flesh in an effort to keep my voice from shaking, I recited from memory the lines that we were taught as children if we were ever taken as violators of our code. “My name is Caylie Sonora. I am eighteen years old, and I have been sent here in violation of Order #4 under Act 5.”

A minute pause before the reviewer glanced down at the documents she held in one hand. “Five counts of violation listed here – academic failure, inappropriate public behavior in human presence, irresponsible behavior in Caro society, invalid absence from Brethren general assemblies, and lastly – public intake of blood.”

The memory of that one last violation blanketed my gaze, with Brethren guards coming out of nowhere at the club. One second, I was striving hard not to move away, to let a stranger’s fangs sink into my neck, but the next thing I knew I was being arrested, so discreetly that no one – not even all the Caros who had been lost in the throes of liquor-induced pleasure – had known what was taking place under the loud throbbing beat of music.

The reviewer’s gaze met mine. “Plea or bargain, Ms. Sonora?”

“Guilty.” I was probably the only Caro to stand before the reviewer’s bench to say that. To plead guilty was to virtually sign away my life, to let the Brethren do as it will with me.

And yet the reviewer didn’t even bat an eyelash. She asked calmly, “Do you understand the consequences of your actions?”

I bowed my head. “Yes, Invisa.” That was a reviewer’s title in our language, and it was the only way to refer to them. We were prohibited from using their first names the moment they were appointed, a reminder that all their personal ties had to cease the moment they donned a reviewer’s robes.

“I apologize sincerely for it and I would gladly pay for whatever harm I had done our society.” I meant every word. My vendetta was exactly that – mine. If someone had been hurt other than him because of my actions, then so be it. It only meant I had to wait another lifetime to extract vengeance.

The reviewer murmured slowly, “There was no negative result of your actions that had been reported – but there could have been.” Her long nails, painted deep purple, tapped the desk. “I assume you know the standard corrective response for this would be rehabilitation under direct supervision of a Brethren official.”

“Yes, Invisa.” I tried not to hold my breath but couldn’t. This was what I had gambled my entire future for.

Her gaze went back to the documents she held in her hands. “But I have a feeling that if I do that then I would be playing right into your hands.”

Shit.

I hastily tried to school my expression back into blandness, but it was too late. I had already betrayed myself. I could see it in the way her gaze narrowed.

She leaned back against her seat. “I’m going to ask you three questions – and if you were to answer me untruthfully I would know and there will be no bargain, no hope, no anything to save you from being thrown into the dungeons for fifty years.”

“I will speak the truth, Invisa.” My voice thankfully didn’t shake even as my knees started to feel weak. The weight of her stare was oppressive, as if she was already carving the truth out of my soul. She made me feel small, the way I was so scantily dressed, the way I had led my life for the past sixt months---so terribly unfit to bear our race’s name.

“Will you die for the Brethren?”

I didn’t hesitate to answer. “Yes.”

“Do you believe the Brethren’s decisions are always right?”

This time I paused before saying finally, “No.”

The reviewer smiled. It made her beautiful, but it also made her appear deadlier and I was starting to understand why someone so young had been chosen to hold one of the highest positions in our society.

“And if I were to let you choose who among the Brethren would be your rehabilitators---”

A gasp escaped. Never in my blackest dreams had I thought I would have a chance to choose.

Her smile became a mixture of sweetness and poison. “Who would you choose, Caylie Sonora?”

My eyes turned black as I answered very softly, “Luka Georgiades.”

Our gazes met, and that was when I saw it again, the red rim shining so brightly it was turned the iris of her left eye into a blood moon set in a silvery lake.

“So be it,” the reviewer said just as softly. “I shall order Luka Georgiades to be your rehabilitator, with orders not to leave your side until you have been set back in the right path. He is also to be informed that you have argued strongly against his endorsement---”

My head shot up.

“---but this review has overrode your preferences.”

One blink and she was gone.

Another blink and she stood right in front of me, her speed and the power that was coiled inside her causing me to stumble back in stunned realization. Dark. So, so dark. How could this be?

“Yes.” Her voice was a vicious caress in itself. “I am half-vampire, the only one in this world and I see things that nobody else sees. Your life and his life are forever entwined, but the bonds are twisted and tainted by my kind.”

This close, the red rim was disturbingly mesmerizing, tempting me to stare into it forever. It took all of my power to wrench my gaze away from the reviewer’s. “I don’t understand---”

“You’re not meant to just yet, but soon you will.” Another blink and she was back behind the judge’s bench.

I tried not to gasp again but failed. Just being that close to a half-vampire was enough to have me stagger back dizzily, like I had been strangled without knowing it.

“You are dismissed.” She stood in the center of the hall, more vampire than Caro even in her dauntingly sober reviewer’s robes.

Questions raced in my mind, but I knew that they wouldn’t be answered. I curtsied again before turning away on unsteady legs. As I reached for the door, the reviewer’s candy-coated voice once again reached me.

Call when there is no one to trust.

I froze, never expecting the reviewer to offer her help but when I looked back she was gone.

4 Comments

The Official Logo of the Brethren of Caros

7/21/2013

2 Comments

 
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2 Comments

Suit and Fangs Cover Reveal on July 26, 2013

7/18/2013

0 Comments

 
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Head over to Xpresso Book Tours for the Suit and Fangs Cover Reveal on July 26, 2013. Publication date for the book will be on the 28th. :) 

I hope you can all invite your book bloggers and reviewers to participate! I'm really excited to work with Xpresso - they've handled tours for authors like Lexi Ryan, Miranda Kenneally, Shannon Mayer, Eve Carter, RaShelle Workman, and most recently Shine Not Burn author Elle Casey. 

I'm particularly excited as well about this cover because it was made by someone I personally know. She's lovely to work with and I highly recommend her to authors in search for an artist for their next covers. Oh, and yes - really reasonable rates, too! When it's time for the cover reveal, I'll also share the link to her site. :) 


0 Comments

The Thing about Different Cultures...

7/13/2013

3 Comments

 
First of all, I'm going to tell you that this particular post would require comment approval. I won't publish negative comments - but that shouldn't matter if all you want to do is let me know your opinion. I will read your comment and I'll respect it, but it's my call whether it's seen or not. I think it's safe to say that some would only post comments just to get attention.

Now, once in a while I get emails and reviews saying that I was a racist with Drawn. Others were nice enough to ask why I referred to Japanese as "Japs". Until these reader emails, I HAD NO IDEA THAT "JAP" WAS A RACIST TERM. Here in my part of the globe, it's simply a shortened term and WE LOVE SHORTENING WORDS. Like Filipinos are Pinoys etc. 

Now I'm aware of course of the different connotation but I still stand by my decision to use the term "Jap" because I absolutely meant no offense when I was writing that. I actually thought it was a very hip way of addressing Japanese. I feel like I'm going against my principles by taking it back. All these years I have loved everything Japanese - you can ask my family and friends. They all know this. I self-studied Japanese and mastered the Level 4 basics in a week - I loved it that much. I studied that hard. I took one-on-one lessons from native Japanese tutors. I gobbled up everything I could of Japanese culture. Bottom line - I love the Japanese culture. Surely that should have been visible with how I wrote Drawn and to still imply that I was being racist - without even asking me why...well...

I feel like taking out the word "Jap" is just a way of allowing the negative connotation of word to persist. Wouldn't it better to apply reverse psychology in this case? True racists use the word "Jap" to describe anything / everything Japanese in a derogatory manner. But why can't WE - the ones who truly love all things Japanese - start working to make this term imply something positive? Why can't we start using "Jap" as a "hip" or "cool" term to describe Japanese culture? 

That way, every time those true racists would say "Jap" the word would have lost its hurtful impact. 

That would be the real triumph, don't you think?

Now, what brought this out you ask?

I recently read a review on Park and Violet. It was a 2-star review. I didn't mind. The reviewer thought Park and Violet was "way to boring". I didn't mind that either. But the reviewer also said that the book was "weird" - and maybe I'm wrong here but the way I read it, the reviewer meant it was weird because it was all about Korean stuff. 

And that was what made me sad. Is a book automatically "weird" just because it doesn't feature American / British characters and settings? 

But at the end of the day, to each his own. That's the reviewer's opinion and maybe I read it incorrectly. But this is my opinion, too, and I think I deserve to say what I want since this is also MY blog. I'm just really, really sad about it. I've always seen books as the most wonderful opportunities to explore new cultures - it's through books I'm able to write about characters who don't live in the Philippines - if not convincingly then at least in a way that readers would enjoy.

Well, that's it for now. 

To end on a happier note, I'm really really happy that Park and Violet is doing so well - Top 500! Honestly, all I was hoping for was to break into the Top 1000. I'm always aware that by writing a book that had Asian influence in it I risk getting lower rankings but I also feel that not writing what I really feel and care about would just make me deliver a bad and fake story. So I'm happy that 99% of Amazon readers proved me wrong and that they care about the story and the characters more than they care about which part of the globe it features.

Thank you readers for everything! :)
3 Comments

Let's talk about sequels!

7/9/2013

8 Comments

 
But first things first---

I'm really, really very happy with how well Park and Violet is doing! I know it's too early to tell, but even so I'm glad PNV reached this high in its first week. That's more than enough of me. As always, I was extremely - and I mean EXTREMELY - nervous about the reception of Park and Violet. You don't always have an European guy adopted by Asian parents as a hero, after all.

Reading the reviews, I was actually surprised that some of you still wanted more of these 2 - I thought I tidied things up nicely with their story - I did promise this was a standalone after all. But apparently, I didn't. =P lol. Ah well, I'll take it as a compliment that readers want more of these two.

Now... let's talk about those sequels.

The first thing I can promise you is that we'll have When Fangirls Cry out right after Suit and Fangs - no ifs and buts. After that, we should have the second / last part of Warning: Love Moderately. These were the two books you requested the most after all so we'll definitely get them out. 

After that ----

I'm pretty excited about My Secret Professor Boyfriend. I've never had a crush on any teacher - firstly, I studied in an all-girls high school, which meant we also had all-female professors. When I was in college, there wasn't anyone hot or young enough to crush on. BUT I do get to read a lot of steamy teacher-student romances (yes, definitely S.R.'s Gabriel's Inferno is one of my absolute favorites) so I do have a clue about how these, umm, encounters work. And this is a common plot device in manga, too, and you all know how much I love those. 

Another sequel in my mind is Dyvian's book in Evren. This one is probably the story I'm struggling the most with because I know where his story is going but the nitty-gritty details aren't that clear yet. All I know is that there's going to be a HUGE confrontation. If you read the excerpt for this then you'll know what that confrontation will be about!

Lastly, we have When I Moan - I'm really, really taking my time with this. I'm very detailed with my Good Girls with Secrets series, so it may be out late this year - maybe just in time for Christmas. Recently, I read the first three books of Terri Anne Browning's The Rocker series. I really, really love that series and I can't help but compare how they are with Em to how my three Grachyov brothers are to Seri. Of course, there are significant differences - my Grachyov brothers aren't quite as wild. They're more the intimidatingly sophisticated type - but I can promise you that they all will have their own stories. Maybe Fyodor, too, coz he's still really hot and he's just in his forties! Haha. 

I'm thinking of sharing a scene - not included in the book - just so you can all see how these three spoil Seri. :) Would you be interested in reading that? 





8 Comments

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