Blurb:
For Sergeant Severins Bouvier, silence means tactical
planning and a large death toll, and he can’t shake how danger threatens him on
the beaches of Miami, especially after seeing one of his associates in a local
sandwich shop. Worse, the enemy seems fascinated with the woman he can’t stop
thinking about—a woman determined not to trust him.
Everything about Sev crashes through Kaia’s carefully placed
boundaries, traps, and avoidances. Regardless of her lack of interest in the
majority of men, the ones that did catch her off guard left a lot of collateral
damage. Who better than a soldier to understand that?
The problem is that she trusts him. Just not with her heart.
Book Links:
About The Author :
Alisha Costanzo is from a Syracuse suburb. She
earned her MFA in creative writing from the University of Central Oklahoma,
where she currently teaches English. She’s the author of BLOOD PHOENIX: REBIRTH
and BLOOD PHOENIX: CLAIMED, and co-editor of DISTORTED. UNDERWATER, her new
anthology, is undergoing serious edits for its 2016 release. In the meantime,
she will continue to corrupt young minds, rant about the government, and
daydream about her all around nasty creatures.
Media Links:
Guest Post: “Why I Love Writing as a Male.”
Writing in the male perspective is akin to freedom. And
although I love to write empowered women in their various levels or snark,
sarcasm, stubbornness, sweetness, and strength, something about slipping into a
male’s persona liberates me. Granted, most of the time, I find it easier.
No. This isn’t because I believe males are less complex than
females. In general terms, we’re much the same. But I’ve always fancied male
friends over females ones, listening to them fight over videogames, tease each
other, argue with no fallout, and bond without the need to shop for shoes, talk
about the opposite sex (although that can happen with men as much as with
women), gush about their feelings, or manipulate for their own gains.
Okay, I know, it seems like I’m giving women a bad name
here. I’m not. I’m a feminist with all of those negative connotations attached.
I don’t hate men, and I don’t hate women. I merely think more like a man.
In fact, I’ve taken the gender personality test, which my
husband gave me in his first years as a Psychology major, and I came out close
to 50-50 on the scale—a half of a point leaning towards male rather than
female.
And don’t get me wrong. I can be a damn girl sometimes, too.
Just throw a spider at me. I squeal and jump and climb on chairs until someone
else comes to kill it or put it outside. I like shoes and purses, although I
never wear heels and I hate to carry a purse. Go figure. I love being a wife
and taking care of my husband. I love to cook for him—most days. I’m motherly
toward my students, calling them my kids, giving them advice, and most times,
merely listening when they need to talk.
But man, I love the power of being a male on the page. This
started with my alternate personas online, via facebook roleplaying. I knew how
to be tough and dirty, how to flatter a woman properly, how to flirt and be
perverse without overstepping my bounds, how to show just enough sensitivity
and pain that women would fall for me. And I wasn’t a slut or a whore or trying
too hard. Even when I was all of those things.
Again, I don’t believe males and females are all that
different from one another. How can we be? We’re all human. Yes, yes. The hormones. Blah. So I become a bitch
every once in a while. Men can be assholes. What’s your point?
Okay, maybe I need to reign in my own point here.
Stereotypes and sexism still affect us. (No, I won’t get on
a rant about this; you’re safe to keep reading). So being a male is liberating.
I love being a romantic goofball without being needy. Although men, you can be
damn needy, too (*coughs and whispers my husband’s name*). I love swearing like
a sailor, having tattoos, doing the heavy lifting, grossing people out, and
being the real pervert that I am, and not only being found attractive for it,
but being the ideal male.
But the best part is my ability to show how a man can be
more than what the media portrays him as—more than a set of six-pack abs,
bulging arms, scruff, and testosterone. Instead I show men as geeks and
goobers, who want to be held, and have fears. They can be melodramatic, lonely,
and just as good of a caretaker as a woman. They don’t have to be knights in
shining armor. Instead, they’re free to be partners.
Boden and Eilion, two of my fae, have quickly become
favorites of mine for their inability to hide their emotions, to run when
they’re outmatched, and for breaking the stereotypes. Since I love them, why
wouldn’t I love writing in their perspectives?
Excerpt, From Chapter Sixteen
Sach met them on
the small porch with a .22 rifle pointed at the woods behind him, likely loaded
with silver and cold iron since no bullets existed to kill vampires, but a
well-placed shot would slow one down. Kaia moved fast and disappeared inside in
under a minute. Thank the Gods she took direction well. When a soldier didn’t
learn to obey, they tended to die.
Lacey trotted out
of the trees and up to the porch, changing into her dark almond form and
trailing her hands over Sach’s front as she rounded him. She peered over his
shoulder to meet Severins’ gaze. “One fell into a trap, and the others ran off
scared. She won’t get out anytime soon, so when you’re ready for her...”
Her hand dipped
down between Sach’s legs, and he grunted. Lacey had a reputation for sexual
aggression after her transformations, especially when she fought. “Wake Dylan
to take your watch.”
He merely nodded
to her, and she sauntered back into the woods.
“Looks like you
need clothes.”
“I could do with
that.”
Sach nodded
inside, and Severins followed, walking into the cabin he knew too well to see
Kaia sitting in front of the glowing coals in the fireplace. The way she looked
him over gave him a charge, and he worked hard to control himself. She turned
away with blush on her cheeks and neck, shoving an aroused growl through his
chest.
But Severins
tailed Sach into the single bedroom, where he gained a new Army issued uniform
with jacket and boots included to dress in.
“Probably sick of
that, but it’s what we’ve got to fit you. Surplus store in town.”
Sach moved over to Dylan and whacked him with
a rolled up newspaper. His brother sat up swinging, a full snarl on his mouth.
“Go take watch.”
“I just got to
sleep.”
“Argue with Lace
about it.”
Grumbling loudly,
Dylan rolled out of bed and dressed, grabbing his gun and punching Severins in
the shoulder on his way out. Nabbing the thick brush on the low dresser,
Severins followed him, pushing him along when he stopped to whistle at Kaia.
“Don’t try me,
cuz.”
“Just appreciating
your taste.”
Kaia sent him the
same man-killing look Severins earned when he first asked her to dinner, and
Severins laughed at its effectiveness. Her gaze warmed as she took in his
uniform, a tiny smile lifted her lips when he neared her. “You’re right, you do
look good in uniform.”
He tossed the
jacket and brush on the couch and sank down next to her. “Keeping warm?”
“Yeah. I’m
recovering. Do we know anything?”
The skin of her
cheek was soft under his thumb. “Not a lot. We’ve caught someone and need to
interrogate her.”
“Her?” Kaia’s
pulse skipped into high gear.
“So I’ve been
told.”
“They won’t
torture her, will they?” Fear and concern leaned her into him, and he wrapped
her up in his arms.
“No. We won’t hurt
her unless she makes us.”
Nodding, she
stroked his chest and sank into his embrace, and he traced the bumps of her
spine through her sweatshirt. When her shoulders dropped from her ears,
Severins shifted her in his lap and reached for the brush. “Let me brush your
hair. It’ll help you feel a bit more normal.”
“That would be
nice.” Hugging her knees, she shook her hair out, trusting him not to hurt her.
He’d learned the tricks to tangles when his daughter was three and her soft
curls got long enough to knot together. Kaia’s hair was windblown but not
terribly knotted, and Severins brushed out the ends, collecting it all in his
hand before working up to her scalp. She sighed when he finished, running her
hands through it and shaking it around before she looked over her shoulder at
him. “Thank you.”
Leaning forward,
he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back against him. His nose sank
to her neck behind her ear, taking in the intoxicating spicy and citrus scent
of her. “You’re welcome, beautiful. Why don’t you make yourself at home and
take a nap on the couch. You didn’t get much rest when we stopped the last
time.”
The sound of her
soft laughter eased his mind and tightened his body. “You must be a kind,
gentle, and doting father, the way you’re taking care of me.”
Grinning against
her throat, he said, “The way I want to take care of you has nothing to do with
my capabilities as a father, I promise you that.” Teeth at her skin, he gave
her a sharp enough nip to make her shiver.
“Well, your
capabilities as a father might just make you more attractive.”
His bites followed
the curve up her neck. “Is that right?”
Hand lifted to
trace his jaw, her fingers found his high and tight again, and she sighed.
“When you’re out, will you grow your hair or leave it like this?”
A snort burst from
him. “Well, I used to have long hair, so I’m sure I can manage to keep it at an
easy, hair-pulling length.”
A wide grin lit up
her face, and she turned against him, those delicate fingers brushing over his
brow, and she looked him over. Tension filled the gap between them, and she
closed it, pressing her mouth over his with such a sweet and innocent kiss that
pieces of him broke and reformed, making him the man he needed to be to love
her right when the time came.
Severins held onto
her tightly, wishing they weren’t on the run, that he didn’t have to worry
about her safety, and that he could woo her the right way with romantic nights
and silly mornings of laughter and playfulness. She deserved nothing less. Yet
here they were, hidden away in his cousins’ cabin in the Alabama boonies,
trying to outrun a pack of Celampresians and in search of her ex—the man who
broke her heart. The man they both protected. Was he running head first into
the most stupid mistake he’d ever make?
They say that time heals all wounds.
But mine are set in so deeply, they’ve taken on a life of their own, lurking in the shadows at every turn and haunting my thoughts.
The girl I once was has been replaced by a stranger.
I don’t even know who I am anymore.
I run.
And I hide.
Pretending to be someone I’m not…
Until I meet Denham King.
My burst of color in an otherwise grey world.
And for the first time in my life, I find myself running towards someone instead of running away.
But fate can be cruel,
and I can’t escape my past.
Can I?
They say that time heals all wounds.
But mine are set in so deeply, they’ve taken on a life of their own, lurking in the shadows at every turn and haunting my thoughts.
The girl I once was has been replaced by a stranger.
I don’t even know who I am anymore.
I run.
And I hide.
Pretending to be someone I’m not…
Until I meet Denham King.
My burst of color in an otherwise grey world.
And for the first time in my life, I find myself running towards someone instead of running away.
But fate can be cruel,
and I can’t escape my past.
Can I?
