The
Deadly Seven
Black
Parade Series
Book
2
Kyoko
M
Number of pages: 120
Word Count: 58,546
ASIN: B00K706A5M
Cover Artist: Christine Savoie
and Katie Litchfield
Book Description:
Michael
O’Brien. 24. New Yorker. Musician. Commander of Heaven’s army.
It’s been centuries since Michael
stayed on Earth for an extended period of time. Now he’s here because of Jordan
Amador—a Seer who helped him restore his life and memories and thwart the
archdemon Belial from taking over the city. With Jordan on Belial’s hit list,
Michael decides to stick around and live out life alongside her as her friend
and temporary bodyguard. But as the days pass, he finds it harder to resist the
seven deadly sins that tempt all men. Especially as he and Jordan grow closer
fighting the demons who want her almost as much as he does…
Available at Amazon
Excerpt:
Being Jordan
Amador’s angelic bodyguard against a horde of bloodthirsty demons was a lot of
things, but certainly not boring.
I checked my
watch for the fortieth time in the last twenty minutes. Jordan usually got off
at eight o’clock. Things had been quiet for over two weeks now, which was rare
for a Seer’s lifestyle. She encountered ghosts with unfinished business a few
times a month and that kept the both of us busy. Earlier, she had convinced me
to meet her at the bus stop a couple streets over instead of in front of the
Sweet Spot.
“So would you
mind waiting for me at the bus stop instead of out here?” she had asked,
sweeping her shoulder-length black hair up into its usual high ponytail.
I frowned. “Why?
Doesn’t it kind of defeat the purpose of the whole ‘temporary bodyguard’
thing?”
“It’s been quiet
for a while now, Michael. Come on. Helping avert the end of the world and
ganking an archdemon aren’t enough to prove I can take care of myself?”
I glanced
between her and the store front. A couple of her waitress friends who were
watching us through the window scattered as soon as I looked over. Then it
clicked.
“They think I’m
your boyfriend, huh?”
Jordan got
really interested in her shoes all of the sudden. “Yeah. They do.”
I shook my head.
She was an anointed soul charged with helping the dead find peace and yet she
still cared what her coworkers thought of our relationship. I couldn’t decide
if it was cute, frustrating, or hilarious. Possibly all three.
Then again, I
could see how her coworkers would get confused that a six-foot-tall,
dark-haired, green-eyed “underwear model” (which I overheard one of them dub me
last week) dropped Jordan off at work on a frequent basis. I decided to be
lenient for once.
“Fine. We’ll
give it a test run today. If you survive, I’ll take it into consideration.”
She shot me a
scowl. “Gee, thanks, almighty Michael. I am humbled that you considered the
request of a lowly human.”
I grinned.
“You’re welcome, my humble servant.”
She rolled her
eyes and swatted my arm before turning to head into the restaurant. “Later,
pretty boy.”
“Stay out of
trouble.” I called, and then headed back towards the bus stop.
That had been
eight hours ago. Getting off a shift late wasn’t unusual for a waitress, but
most times it was by only five or ten minutes. My instincts needled at me that
something was off.
Sighing, I
fished out my cell phone and called her, tapping my foot. “Come on, Amador,
pick up.”
Several rings. A
click. Voicemail message. Ugh. I hung up and stuffed my hands in my pockets. It
was a short walk through the heavily trafficked area on this side of Albany,
New York, but it was during one of the busier times of the day. Nighttime in
the city meant chatty couples walking through holding hands, teenagers
hollering and chasing each other down the street, and music pouring out from
the clubs already packed to the rafters with the twenty-somethings.
Two stop lights,
one near-death experience courtesy of a speeding cab, and one step in some gum
later, and I reached the glowing red sign to the Sweet Spot. The Southern
cuisine eatery was busy. As much as Northerners made fun of the South in sitcoms
and stand up shows, they sure did like the food.
I pushed the
door open and smiled at Beth, the head hostess. “Hey, you.”
“Michael.” The
short blonde grinned. “Good to see you as always.”
“Is Jordan still
in the back?”
A slight frown
marred her brow. “No, honey. She left about ten minutes ago.”
I froze. “Left
how? She was supposed to meet me at the bus stop.”
“She went out
back to take out the trash and I just assumed she went home after. Why?
Something wrong?”
A cold lump
settled in my stomach. Something wasn’t adding up. Jordan wasn’t the type to
disappear without texting me. I didn’t want to concern her friends so I kept my
expression pleasant. “Nah, she probably just wandered off to window shop. I’ll
catch up with her. Thanks, Beth.”
“No problem, sweets.”
I made a point
to leave the restaurant in a casual manner, but once I was out of sight, I
hurried around the block to the back of the building. The Sweet Spot was part
of an entertainment district in this section of Albany. There were narrow
alleys between the establishments and the streets ran parallel to the store
fronts.
The Sweet Spot’s
back alley looked like any other restaurant in Albany—lined by dumpsters and
garbage cans. The concrete was littered with fallen bits of food. A couple of
mangy cats fought over fish bones. The entire area stank to high heaven. I
called Jordan’s phone again and prayed that my instincts were wrong.
The raucous
chorus to Right Said Fred’s “I’m Too Sexy” echoed behind me.
I turned towards
one of the dumpsters and lifted the entire thing with one hand. Her phone lay
cracked and forlorn underneath it.
About
the Author:
Kyoko M is an author, a fangirl,
and an avid book reader. Her debut novel, The Black Parade, made it through the
first round of Amazon's 2013 Breakthrough Novel Contest. She participated and
completed the 2011 National Novel Writing Month competition. She has a Bachelor
of Arts in English Lit degree from the University of Georgia, which gave her
every valid excuse to devour book after book with a concentration in Greek
mythology and Christian mythology. When not working feverishly on a manuscript
(or two), she can be found buried under her Dashboard on Tumblr, or chatting
with fellow nerds on Twitter, or curled up with a good Harry Dresden novel on a
warm central Florida night. Like any author, she wants nothing more than to
contribute something great to the best profession in the world, no matter how
small.
Website: http://www.shewhowritesmonsters.com
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/misskyokom
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The Deadly
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Only
She shot me a scowl. “Gee, thanks, almighty Michael. I am humbled that you considered the request of a lowly human.”
ReplyDeleteI grinned. “You’re welcome, my humble servant.”
This particular section had me chuckling out loud. Sounds like a good read. Looking forward to it.
Thank you so much Kyoko for sponsoring this giveaway!
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