BLITZ! SMOLDERING ASHES BY ANNIE ANDERSON

Kyle Brennan needs a break.
After scouring the earth for his mate, he finally found her in the least convenient place possible. Then she was ripped away from him by forces neither of them could control. But the woman who came back to him isn’t the one who left. Kyle doesn’t know this woman, and he’s not so sure he wants to.

Nicola Miller has a big problem.
She can’t remember a single second of her life before she woke up in a hospital bed in Knoxville, Tennessee. Not just that, but she has a huge, hulking man in her hospital room claiming to be her husband – a man she obviously doesn’t remember – who looks at her as if she’ll strike like a snake at any given moment. She’s not sure how things could get any worse.

But the last shards of Nicola’s life are about to be burned to the ground. Because someone has to pay for the sins of the past, and she’s wearing the face of the woman who committed them.

It looks like the last of their luck has just run out.

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Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01NCIBQX7

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Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B01NCIBQX7

 

Excerpt One:

NICOLA – AFTER

Shivering in a towel. No, shivering in a goddamn towel, sitting on a toilet seat in a hospital bathroom when I should be getting as far from Kyle as humanly possible.

Oh, that’s right. You’re not human, a snide voice in my head reminded me. Not that I had any frame of reference on what being human meant, but I bet my lily-pale ass it didn’t mean watching my quasi-husband being gutted by a fucking werewolf. Or having visions about said gutting that made my eyes literally bleed.

I needed clothes. I needed a plan. I needed to not be a brainless fucking idiot and get a damn clue.

Preferably in that order.

A soft knock on the door proceeds Kyle poking his head in, a stack of clothes in his arms. Fabulous, one problem down, five million to go.

“I had clothes here for you just in case you woke up,” he says as he offers the small pile of cloth in his hands to me. “You can get other clothes if you don’t like these – just say the word.”

I try to study the bundle in his arms but can’t seem to tear my eyes away from his hands. I don’t know what it is about them that catches my interest. Is it the rough but long-fingered grace to them? Is it the way they seem to have seen the sun and wind and earth of this world and yet seem so gentle?

I know what it is. It’s the way his hand pressed to his belly in my vision. It’s the way the blood oozed in between the gaps in his fingers, staining the webbings red. It’s the way they laid lifeless on the pavement as that fucking wolf ripped into him, only moving with the force from the jerks of its teeth tearing his body apart.

It takes effort to tear my eyes from them and grab the bundle from his hands, mumbling a quick thank you as I turn away. I have to take deep breaths to quell the nausea in my stomach and the bile coming up my throat.

I am the reason. It will be my fault. I have to go, I have to go, I have to go…

Before he leaves me to it, he asks, “You okay, Shortcake?”

Am I okay? Did he not see me cry fucking blood not ten minutes ago?

“I’m bloody fucking super, alright?” I snap and immediately feel bad for it. He doesn’t know what I saw, and if I have any say at all, he won’t know ever.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, “I’m… not dealing very well, okay?”

I wait for him to yell at me and I assume he might or leave me to my bitchy temper tantrum, but he doesn’t. Kyle heaves a sigh before his heat meets my back and his lips brush the top of my hair. “I can understand that. Get dressed, babe, and we’ll work it out, okay?”

 

 

 

Excerpt Two:

KYLE – AFTER

I need to hit something – a face, a wall, anything. I just slipped into bed with her, let her warmth wrap around me and I forgot she doesn’t remember me. Her half-Sasquatch comment cemented that fact.

She doesn’t remember I’m half-Witch. She doesn’t remember the first time we made love. She doesn’t remember what she sacrificed or what Iva did while wearing her skin. She doesn’t know what Iva herself did to me. She has no idea and I don’t want to be the one to tell her.

So I did what I do best. I left her there in that room to heal up while I scoured the house for a dojo or a workout room or something so I didn’t start ripping apart furniture. I found myself in the living room wondering how mad Mena would be if I ripped apart an overstuffed armchair with my talons.

“I have a bone to pick with you,” Mena calls from the kitchen, her back to me as she kneads bread at the counter. What is with the Constantine women and cooking all the goddamn time?

“What did I do now?” I ask, flippant when I probably shouldn’t be.

“You’re lucky I have flour all over my hands, dipshit, or I’d illustrate just how pissed off I am. Sit your big ass down,” she scolds, her back still to me.

Deciding it was better to sit than risk my hide, I pull a barstool away from the island and plunk down, crossing my arms in defiance.

“I saw the scar on Nicola’s hand. Did you or did you not bind her, Ky?” she asks but it isn’t a question so much as a threat. She already knows the answer; she just wants to see if I’ll admit it.

I’m not ashamed of what I did. I’d do it again.

“I did.”

“Did you actually ask her, or did you just do it on your own? I’d venture a guess you bit her when she couldn’t answer you. Why else would she have a bite on her hand instead of her neck?” she asks, finally looking up at me, her eyes flicking back and forth between green and amber.

“I did it while she was unconscious. I did it when I thought she would either die or never wake up. I would have spent the rest of my life sitting in that hospital chair waiting for her. So you can be pissed at me all you like, I’m still not sorry.”

Defiance suits me best, so I stick with it, unapologetically staring her down. If I hadn’t held her eyes, I wouldn’t know how worried she is.

“What happens when she never remembers? What if this Nicola never loves you? What then?” she asks softly.

I hate that she asks this. I hate that she takes the one fucking thing I’m insecure about and needles it until I want to punch a hole in every single wall I can find.

“Then I have the rest of forever to change her mind. Either way, she’s still mine,” my voice a rumble of possession.

“Good answer.”

 

 

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Author Bio:

Annie Anderson is a military wife and United States Air Force veteran. Originally from Dallas, Texas, she is a southern girl at heart, but has lived all over the US and abroad. As soon as the military stops moving her family around, she’ll settle on a state, but for now she enjoys being a nomad with her husband, two daughters, and old man of a dog.

In her past lives, Annie has been a lifeguard, retail manager, dental lab technician, accountant, and now she writes fast-paced paranormal thrillers with some serious heat.

 

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BLITZ! SMOLDERING ASHES BY ANNIE ANDERSON

Coming January 24, 2017

Kyle Brennan needs a break.
After scouring the earth for his mate, he finally found her in the least convenient place possible. Then she was ripped away from him by forces neither of them could control. But the woman who came back to him isn’t the one who left. Kyle doesn’t know this woman, and he’s not so sure he wants to.

Nicola Miller has a big problem.
She can’t remember a single second of her life before she woke up in a hospital bed in Knoxville, Tennessee. Not just that, but she has a huge, hulking man in her hospital room claiming to be her husband – a man she obviously doesn’t remember – who looks at her as if she’ll strike like a snake at any given moment. She’s not sure how things could get any worse.

But the last shards of Nicola’s life are about to be burned to the ground. Because someone has to pay for the sins of the past, and she’s wearing the face of the woman who committed them.

It looks like the last of their luck has just run out.

Buy Links:

Amazon US: http://bit.ly/smoldering-ashes

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01NCIBQX7

Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B01NCIBQX7

Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B01NCIBQX7

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BLITZ! ASHES TO ASHES BY ANNIE ANDERSON

Fashionable tatooed man with beard in casual clothing.

Click Here to get it on Amazon!

Blurb:

Are you ready to fall into the world of Phoenixes and Wraiths who guard the gates of the beyond? Ashes to Ashes Series Volume One includes the first three books in the Ashes to Ashes series by Annie Anderson.

He took everything from her, but she needs him if she wants to live. Rock, meet hard place in Scattered Ashes. She’s missed the last fifty years in prison, he’s on the proverbial death row in Falling Ashes. She’s the Queen and he’ll be her King – if they can live that long in Rising Ashes.

About Scattered Ashes:

Aurelia Constantine is having a rough century.
Plagued by visions of murder, death and destruction, she has resigned herself to the nightmare her life has become. When an enemy from her past comes to her rescue, she must let go of old wounds and heal the breach so she may survive the evil poisoning her mind.

Rhys Stevens is guilty.
Murder. Betrayal. Treason. Take your pick; he’s guilty of them all. On the path of redemption, he must beg for forgiveness from the one person he fought to save – the woman he has always loved.

Thrown together in the trenches of war, they must work as a team to stop a monstrous puppet master from pulling their strings. Ashes, ashes. We all fall down.
Get ready to burn.

About Falling Ashes:
Mena Constantine is pissed off.
Finally freed from her fifty-year imprisonment by a maniacal leader, she is desperately trying to recover and get her life back. Problem is, the life she had is long gone. Struggling under the weight of her memories and healing from the wounds of her captivity, she can’t seem to catch a break. Every waking moment, death seems like a relief she would welcome.

Asher Crane is a dead man.
As a Guardian to the King, his only purpose in life is to keep the King alive. And he’s failing. Miserably. With the King ill, the Queen dying, and zero plans for a successor, he’s pretty much screwed. Because if the King dies, the law says Asher dies, too.

As these two wounded souls collide in a series of bloody and unfortunate events, they will clutch to the last shreds of life before death beats down their door.

About Rising Ashes:
West Carmichael is not my real name.
It is the name I pulled from thin air over five hundred years ago. I don’t come from royalty—I come from the dregs of the ethereal. As the King’s assassin, I have more blood on my hands than most. I don’t deserve her. I don’t deserve anyone.
But I will keep her safe.
Even if I die trying.

Evangeline Black.
My name sounds like the heroine of a historical romance novel – not that I read those or anything. My life so far: Dead parents? Check. Broken heart? Check. Evil mistress of darkness, hell-bent on power and thirsty for my death? Big. Honking. Check. But this mess won’t get cleaned up by itself.
I’ve got a job to do.

As these two reluctant hearts fight their pull, they must decide if they want to fall apart in the midst of the chaos swarming around them or yield to their hearts…
and rise.

Read A Few Excerpts…heart-a2a-vol-1

Aurelia – 1855
The mulch-like growth and rocks on the forest floor crunch and squish together under my feet as I scramble through the bedrock and finish climbing the first foothill.
Stupid skirt. Stupid slippery shoes.
I’m not moving fast enough, but in my state, I’m surprised I can move at all. The stitch in my side is cutting off my breath.
Where are they? I stop and search the sky, but I know it’s too late. The sky is rapidly turning the inky black of evening in the early Fall, and with no moon out tonight, I’ll never see the sky as properly as I should.
The first blow comes, and I cry out in agony as a wound splits open on the back of my forearm. But there’s no one here.
I hear no one and see no one, but a large gaping wound has torn open my arm from wrist to elbow. I smell the coppery bite of blood as the warm, sticky stream seeps down past my fingers and drips onto the dirt, swiftly devoured by the dry soil below.
Blackness clouds my vision for a minute, but I force myself to forget the constant pulse of my wound and pull myself together. I rip a swath off my billowing skirt and use the fabric to bind my arm in an effort to stem the bleeding. The navy blue patterned fabric turns indigo from the blood quickly oozing from my wound.
I pick myself up off the gritty forest floor and start walking, rather than the panicked pace of before. I can’t run with this wound. I’m already pushing it with this silly corset, especially in my condition.
There. I hear it, and I know I was right. They are clashing together somewhere in the distance.
They are going to kill each other.
© Copyright 2016 Annie Anderson

 

i-can-do-what-i-need-to-a2a-vol-1Excerpt Two…

Asher
My brain seems to split in two. I want to maim and murder, but I also want to comfort her. I can almost taste the bitterness of her distress, how much she must hate people looking at her, talking to her after so many years of captivity. I want to see her eyes. I want to know what she’s thinking. I can’t take the waiting, and I move Ian out of the way and then West and then Evan, making my way to the left side of her bed.
I hear the faint sounds of protests and shouts beyond the harsh buzzing in my ears, but I don’t care. I know my hands are taloned, but I can’t think about reining in my phase. I reach out to touch her fidgeting fingers and in surprise, her head finally rises so I can see her face. Her eyes are wide and fringed in black lashes that make her beautiful olive green irises pop. Her forehead and the left side of her face are covered in bruises, and her nose is pert and cute, even if it’s a little swollen. Her cheekbones are high and sharp, and as soon as I can, I’m making her eat until she bursts.
Those eyes that just a second ago were startled, swiftly turn from surprised to angry and in a flash her irises turn from green to gold. The last thought of consciousness I have before she shocks me stupid is how pretty her eyes are when she’s mad.
© Copyright 2016 Annie Anderson

Excerpt Three…wolves-at-bay-a2a-vol-1

Evan – 1928 – Los Angeles, CA
I was alone – finally alone even in this sea of people– after so much time with the ones I loved breathing down my neck. It was like a vacation. I needed something of my own. A secret, a life, something to break away from my family. Something that didn’t say princess or royalty.
Something that let me just be me. Singing was it for me.
I was ending my five-song set with a favorite of mine, an old Jane Greene song when I saw him. I’d seen him around town a few times, when I was shopping by myself or when I watched a boxing match at the Olympic Auditorium, a scandalous activity for an unchaperoned young lady.
But we’d never met.
He was handsome. I even daresay beautiful, if you can call a man like that beautiful. He was tall – taller than anyone in the room by nearly a whole head –and built so powerfully he made the other men look like pitiful adolescents dressed up in their daddy’s clothes. It was difficult to tell if his hair was as dark as it seemed in the low light of the secret club, but it appeared black in the dim. Dressed to the nines in a brilliant black suit, he moved with grace through the crowd until he found his seat at the only open table in the joint, folding his huge frame into the chair with the grace of a jaguar.
Papa had taken me to Brazil when I was just a little girl, and we saw the big cats roam the rainforests. He moved just like those jungle cats, scanning the room for prey and threats, watching everything with disinterest, as if he could take or leave the sights and sounds and people. As if he were bored in this raucous party that seemed to never end.
© Copyright 2016 Annie Anderson

Meet The Author…

author-photo

Annie Anderson is a military wife and United States Air Force veteran. Originally from Dallas, Texas, she is a southern girl at heart, but has lived all over the US and abroad. As soon as the military stops moving her family around, she’ll settle on a state, but for now she enjoys being a nomad with her husband, two daughters, and old man of a dog.

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