Authors: this is a great opportunity to spotlight a few lines or even a paragraph or two from a new release or backlisted title. Readers: you get to sample some delicious snippets! We’ll do our best to tease, titillate and tantalize you into the weekend.
Today I'm offering snippets from my newest release The Order of the Dragon, an paranormal romance, and Book 1 in the Warbler Peninsula series. Drake MacGregor is trying to reconcile his feeding from Aliandra when he's presented with a new problem. A visiting researcher. Normally that would be fine, except something is off.
“Oh, Mr. MacGregor, I didn’t expect you here today.” Bailey looked up from the reference desk. “How is your leg?”
“It’s not as bad as we feared.” He patted his thigh. “Just a really bad sprain and bone bruise. I’ll have to wear the brace for a few days, but it’s already feeling better.”
More than better. He hadn’t felt this good in centuries and he had yet to feel his usual hunger.
Don’t get to attached to it, fool. It’s not likely you’ll get more dragon blood any time soon.
“Oh, I’m so glad to hear that.” Bailey smiled in relief. “There’s a gentleman here visiting from some university in…” She trailed off with a frown then waved her hand in dismissal. “Chapel Hill, North Carolina, I think he said. I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it. He’s in your office. I told him I didn’t think you were coming in, but he insisted.”
“Did he give you his name?” Drake’s mind returned to Iris’ warning.
“Dr. Viggo Lance. And he brought his son Thomas with him.”
“Did he?” Drake turned his head toward his office. “I’d best go and greet them, then.”
“Do you need any help?”
“No, thank you, Bailey. I’ll be fine.”
Drake patted the counter in farewell and limped toward his office in the Archives. The unpleasant scent became stronger as he approached the Archives and he wrinkled his nose in distaste. Had he left something to rot in his office?
Shuffling through his door, he spied a tall, slender, graying man perusing the books on the shelves nearest the door to the Archives. Movement opposite the desk caught Drake’s eye and a small, dark-haired boy with silver-gray eyes swung his feet back and forth while he sat on one of the high-backed chairs. The boy froze when he saw Drake, cocking his head to one side in a way that reminded Drake of Dr. Cantora.
“May I help you?” Drake asked as he stepped into full view.
The man spun and braced himself for evasive action before straightening up and smoothing his sweater. He smiled in greeting, but a tingle of unease skittered up Drake’s spine as he met the man’s gaze. The eyes were cold and calculating, hard with no compassion.
“Yes, you must be the Archivist, Mr. MacGregor.” Despite his officious look, the man’s voice was smooth and warm. “My name is Dr. Viggo Lance and this is my son, Thomas.”
“What can I do for you, Dr. Lance?” Drake disrobed from his coat and scarf, careful never to turn his back to his visitor. Like Iris had mentioned, something seemed off about him.
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