News reporter, Priscilla Hart, is guilty of using her charm to con Detective Logan Payne out of privileged information for a homicide story she’s covering. But when the killer attacks her, she’s forced to turn to the same man she swindled and beg him for protection.
Helping Priscilla is the last thing on Logan’s mind. He’s more interested in getting her to confess she fabricated the assault to get closer to her sources again. But as the case heats up, he finds himself torn between giving in to the his smoldering desire for the attractive reporter and distancing himself so he can focus on the biggest murder investigation of his career.
The predator’s trail leads to the unearthing of a mysterious medallion and an ancient Cajun spell known as Cunja. As the clock of doom winds down, Logan discovers the woman he loves stands at the center of a sadistic voodoo priest’s plan and saving her is only the tip of the iceberg.
Genre: Paranormal, romantic suspense/thriller, time travel, mystery, horror
Heat level: 3
Word count – 72k
Cover art by Angela Anderson Designs
The howling beast pounded on the locker doors, creating an image of metal caving in as easily as aluminum cans. With each shattering blow, she cringed. She squeezed her eyes shut, afraid to move. Jesus, somebody help me!
She wanted to release a shriek from the pit of her soul. She covered her mouth with her hand while hot tears trailed down her face. No matter what, she couldn’t scream.
The banging stopped, and the silence petrified her.
With her eyes now adjusting to the dimness of the room, she focused on the coatrack a few feet in front of her. Something enormous drifted by. It’s going to find me. Oh, God. Holding her breath, she watched in horror as the figure backtracked. An obscure being loomed over her, blocking out the backdrop of shadows behind it. Its repugnant stench stung her nostrils. The creature reeked of a rotting animal.
Laughter roared throughout the room. She screamed.
The beast snatched her around the neck, and the shriek died in her throat in an instant. Her feet left the ground, as the creature lifted her into the air. Panic cut a searing path through the lining of her intestines. My God, I can’t breathe.
When she brought the can of Mace up, she couldn’t control the wild shaking in her hand. She squeezed the nozzle.
Donnette was born in Florida, but she has lived in the Lone Star state so long she claims to be a true Texan. She worked as a journalist for a local newspaper covering top stories such as elections, and homicide. It was then the desire to write novels took hold and wouldn’t let go. When she’s not parked at her computer, feeding her addiction for creating new stories, her love of singing will sometimes steer her toward the nearest karaoke bar to meet up with the girls for a night out.