Friday, March 8, 2013

Promo Post: Mystically Bound By Stacey Kennedy

 
Mystically Bound
 
 
 
 
Frostbite Book Three
 Urban Fantasy Romance
 ISBN: 9781301901340
 Length: Novel
 Heat Level: Sensual
 Release date: January 31, 2013
 
 
 
Blurb:

Tess Jennings’ life is in chaos. Her ghost lover, Kipp McGowen, vanished into the Netherworld without a trace. Now, she finds herself in White Castle, Louisiana, surrounded by the Animus—a secret society of the supernaturally gifted. To make matters worse, they present her with an offer she cannot refuse.

If she helps solve the murder of their Grand Master, they will assist her in saving Kipp. Soon, Tess will land herself lost in another mystery she doesn’t want. But she will have to trust her enemies to gain what she most desires—a life with Kipp.

Only problem? People are hiding secrets and dark pasts. Tess will soon discover that nothing is as it seems. She might want to save Kipp from his ghostly state, but someone has decided it’s better for her to join him…
 
 
Buy Links
 
 
 
Excerpt
 
Find our ghost, and we’ll help save Kipp.
One statement took my already upside down world, spun it in a new warped direction, and sent hot slivers of frustration through my veins. Another mystery didn’t interest me. My to-do list toppled with one important checkbox to mark off: find my ghost lover, Kipp McGowen, and return him to his comatose body.

I glanced sideways at my friend, Gretchen. Her cinnamon-colored hair swept over the side of her face, deepening the grayish tones in her blue eyes. “Did I hear that right?”

She nodded tightly. “You did, and they’re waiting for your answer.”

What if I didn’t want to answer? What if I didn’t want to help anyone else? Hadn’t the time for someone to assist me—without my having to return the favor—been earned? Yet, here I stood in White Castle, Louisiana, presently cornered to use my gifts to communicate with the dead.

Couldn’t someone cut me a damn break?

Blowing out a frustrated breath, I scanned the mansion. Its fancy furniture, dating to the nineteenth century, had an overall charm with gothic detail and rich crimson fabrics. Even the scent of a spicy potpourri portrayed comfort. Sadly, the two people—excluding Gretchen—who currently awaited my answer, didn’t look friendly. Especially the crotchety man in his early forties, sitting in the dark wood antique wingback chair.

I finally admitted to myself that I couldn’t ignore them. “Sorry, can you repeat the question?”

Wayde Hagen’s light brown eyes blazed with a bottomless irritation I wouldn’t dare agitate. His thick, six-five frame put me on edge since next to him, I was a tiny woman. Though I attempted to hide the fact that he intimidated me, the coldness in his features, the sharp contours of his face, and his thin hard lips unnerved me.

“I don’t need to repeat myself.” His low voice echoed off the high ceilings. “Answer the question.”

I could only gawk at him. Were all the others so chilling?

Truth be told, I had no idea what to expect when I first heard of the others from Gretchen. The entire airplane ride to White Castle, I drilled her on the group she belonged to. She explained some were mediums, others psychics, and a few more were witches. But tonight, only two of the group greeted me—if you could even call it that.

While I sensed energy in the room, much like an elevated awareness, and assumed it meant all those present held some level of supernatural power, none held my abilities. Perhaps they might create a kick-ass spell, predict the future, or sense ghosts, but no one except me could see and talk to spirits.

Some might think I’d impress them, but Wayde’s ice-cold gaze declared otherwise. To him, I was an outsider, and well, I’d prefer to be outside than near him. “Let me get this straight. You want me to find a ghost, and if I do, you’ll help me locate Kipp?”

Wayde inclined his head. “That’s the offer.”

I restrained my snappy response, considering a morgue would’ve been friendlier than talking to Wayde. He wasn’t the first to disapprove of my loving a ghost and I doubted he’d be the last. But I didn’t much give a shit what he thought. “Why do you need me to find your ghost?”

Turning from the towering hand-carved marble fireplace with the blazing fire, the other woman, Amelia, smiled at me. She settled in next to Wayde and her crystal blue eyes warmed. Her shoulder-length honey-colored hair looked soft, leaving me to wonder what shampoo she used. Everything about this woman screamed gentle…and maybe a slight undertone of weakness. “Someone killed my father.”

Perhaps that explained why she welcomed me so easily, since the matter was personal. “Your father?”

Her voice trembled. “Or I should say, our Grand Master.”

My lip arched as I glimpsed Gretchen, and she chuckled. “Alexander was our Grand Master. He ruled us for the last fifteen years.”

“Oh.” What else could I say? You’re strange. Or, why am I here?

Gretchen told me the secret society, known as Animus, was established in the eighteenth century. A group of supernaturally gifted had come together and formed the organization. Many of the founding members’ descendants remained.

To me, it sounded like an unfriendly cult, since I hadn’t received the warmest of welcomes. Not like I would call Gretchen a cult member to her face. She’d bailed my ass out of trouble only days ago. When a demon had come to Memphis to feed on innocent souls, I had been given the task to rid the world of it. Thus, Gretchen’s teachings of witchcraft. Her assistance had led to the demon’s banishment back to Hell.

Trust in Gretchen had been forged out of the weirdest circumstances, but it held strong. Perhaps I could see some logic in knowing others who lived a similar lifestyle, since without her, the demon incident might have turned out very differently, and not in my favor.
 
 
 
 
Author Bio:

Stacey Kennedy’s novels are lighthearted fantasy with heart-squeezing, thigh-clenching romance, and even give a good chuckle every now and again. She lives in Southwestern Ontario with her husband and two children. If she’s not plugging away at a new story—which is rare because her muse is annoying—you’ll find her camping, curling up with the latest flick, or obsessing over Sons of Anarchy, Games of Thrones, Supernatural and Dexter.
 
Stacey welcomes comments from readers. You can find her at:
 
 



No comments: