Recently, several of my books have come back to me, and I've decided to place them all with a new publishing house called Evolutionary Publishing. I think this new company shows lots of promise and they have just re-issued my vampire mystery/romance A Whisper of Humanity at the SALE price of $0.99 - so drop over to Smashwords or Amazon and get it in whatever format your reader likes!
A Whisper Of Humanity
The atmosphere of The Tomb was close and thick
when Faith Fitzpatrick finally made her way into the heart of the nightclub.
She couldn’t suppress the whisper of ice that persisted near the base of her spine,
a wordless warning that she’d been unable to find a reason for throughout the
long evening. Maybe she was just tired, nothing more mysterious than that. It had
been an exceedingly long day, one that had quickly led into an evening that had
been longer still. When she’d asked Adrian’s partner to suggest a place where
she could enjoy a drink before heading back to her hotel, Donald Schiller had
told her about this club.
It wasn’t exactly The Loft, she thought, and smiled as she envisioned her favorite nightclub near Los Angeles. She shook off the opposing imagery and directed her attention to her immediate surroundings. The smile lingered as her look wandered openly over the chandeliers, the waterfalls of chains, and the gleaming columns that decorated the club. There was something darkly exotic about this place. And the people in it, she added mentally as her gaze strayed without conscious direction.
She glanced at the myriad of bizarrely dressed people mingling within the spacious room, and felt another shudder when one of the young men at the bar smiled at her. If the expression was meant as an invitation of any kind, Faith wasn’t eager to accept the company. She pulled her lightweight cotton jacket closer, cursing her own stupidity for wearing the sleeveless wool top that was completely inadequate to combat Montreal’s late autumn chill. The jacket was black, the full, flowing skirt was a deep shade of teal, and the billowing material draped her legs to only a few inches above floor length. Her high-heeled boots matched the creamy color of her sweater and the small shoulder bag she carried.
At thirty, Faith quite often looked barely twenty without her makeup, and that vanity was more a necessity to keep her age from being obscured than a ritual she enjoyed. She had dark brown hair that fell in soft waves around her shoulders, and equally dark eyes. She was tall and athletically built, not beautiful, but attractive in an aloof fashion. She tended toward solitude, and it seemed to communicate itself to other people since she was reputed to be cold and unapproachable. Her co-workers usually gave her plenty of space once they’d been politely kept at arm’s length a few times.
“Can I help you?”
Faith turned at the softly accented enquiry, her smile automatic when she found herself eye to eye with a stunning, slender brunette. French, her mind noted as soon as the woman spoke again.
“We have a very strict age policy,” she informed the newcomer. “You don’t appear old enough for a place such as this.”
Faith was stunned into momentary silence. It had been a very long time since anyone had mistaken her age this totally. Firmly convinced the brunette couldn’t possibly be serious, Faith started to pass her. A firm hand on her cotton-covered arm halted her before she was able to take a single step.
“You haven’t answered me.”
“I thought you were joking.” When there was no visible change in the lovely woman’s expression, Faith sighed. She dug into her purse and produced the police shield that would not only prove her age, but her ability to take care of whatever she might encounter in a nightclub. Faith opened the leather case and held it out for inspection. The brunette took the case and read the information imprinted on the card.
“You wouldn’t require a birth certificate, as well, would you?” Faith wondered, a hint of ironic smile curving her full lips into a soft, faintly amused expression.
This time it was the French woman who smiled. She nodded a small apology, handed back the police shield, and linked her arm loosely through Faith’s.
“My name is Julia, I own The Tomb.”
“Faith Fitzpatrick,” she supplied. “But you know that already, don’t you, mademoiselle?” Faith added with a laugh.
“What brings you to my club, Faith?” Julia enquired, her dark head tilted to one side as she measured the other woman. Faith Fitzpatrick bore no resemblance to Julia’s mental image of police officers, and something about the woman intrigued the beautiful club owner. Perhaps it was the unmistakable aura of detachment that enveloped the woman.
Faith slid onto a stool as two were vacated the moment Julia approached the bar. The beautiful Frenchwoman ordered drinks, and Faith let her look roam. “You have a most interesting nightclub, Julia.”
Julia laughed quietly. “That is one way of putting it,” she agreed and slid a glittering crystal glass across the gleaming bar-top. Faith accepted the wine and lifted her glass in a cheerful toast.
It wasn’t exactly The Loft, she thought, and smiled as she envisioned her favorite nightclub near Los Angeles. She shook off the opposing imagery and directed her attention to her immediate surroundings. The smile lingered as her look wandered openly over the chandeliers, the waterfalls of chains, and the gleaming columns that decorated the club. There was something darkly exotic about this place. And the people in it, she added mentally as her gaze strayed without conscious direction.
She glanced at the myriad of bizarrely dressed people mingling within the spacious room, and felt another shudder when one of the young men at the bar smiled at her. If the expression was meant as an invitation of any kind, Faith wasn’t eager to accept the company. She pulled her lightweight cotton jacket closer, cursing her own stupidity for wearing the sleeveless wool top that was completely inadequate to combat Montreal’s late autumn chill. The jacket was black, the full, flowing skirt was a deep shade of teal, and the billowing material draped her legs to only a few inches above floor length. Her high-heeled boots matched the creamy color of her sweater and the small shoulder bag she carried.
At thirty, Faith quite often looked barely twenty without her makeup, and that vanity was more a necessity to keep her age from being obscured than a ritual she enjoyed. She had dark brown hair that fell in soft waves around her shoulders, and equally dark eyes. She was tall and athletically built, not beautiful, but attractive in an aloof fashion. She tended toward solitude, and it seemed to communicate itself to other people since she was reputed to be cold and unapproachable. Her co-workers usually gave her plenty of space once they’d been politely kept at arm’s length a few times.
“Can I help you?”
Faith turned at the softly accented enquiry, her smile automatic when she found herself eye to eye with a stunning, slender brunette. French, her mind noted as soon as the woman spoke again.
“We have a very strict age policy,” she informed the newcomer. “You don’t appear old enough for a place such as this.”
Faith was stunned into momentary silence. It had been a very long time since anyone had mistaken her age this totally. Firmly convinced the brunette couldn’t possibly be serious, Faith started to pass her. A firm hand on her cotton-covered arm halted her before she was able to take a single step.
“You haven’t answered me.”
“I thought you were joking.” When there was no visible change in the lovely woman’s expression, Faith sighed. She dug into her purse and produced the police shield that would not only prove her age, but her ability to take care of whatever she might encounter in a nightclub. Faith opened the leather case and held it out for inspection. The brunette took the case and read the information imprinted on the card.
“You wouldn’t require a birth certificate, as well, would you?” Faith wondered, a hint of ironic smile curving her full lips into a soft, faintly amused expression.
This time it was the French woman who smiled. She nodded a small apology, handed back the police shield, and linked her arm loosely through Faith’s.
“My name is Julia, I own The Tomb.”
“Faith Fitzpatrick,” she supplied. “But you know that already, don’t you, mademoiselle?” Faith added with a laugh.
“What brings you to my club, Faith?” Julia enquired, her dark head tilted to one side as she measured the other woman. Faith Fitzpatrick bore no resemblance to Julia’s mental image of police officers, and something about the woman intrigued the beautiful club owner. Perhaps it was the unmistakable aura of detachment that enveloped the woman.
Faith slid onto a stool as two were vacated the moment Julia approached the bar. The beautiful Frenchwoman ordered drinks, and Faith let her look roam. “You have a most interesting nightclub, Julia.”
Julia laughed quietly. “That is one way of putting it,” she agreed and slid a glittering crystal glass across the gleaming bar-top. Faith accepted the wine and lifted her glass in a cheerful toast.
*
* *
Across the room, another figure watched the interaction
with growing interest.
Would you like to know what happens next? Find the book here, for only 99 cents... and enjoy the passion that is waiting...
Good stuff and thank you for plugging Evolutionary Publishing. This book and all others will be available at Barnes and Noble, Kobo and every and all major outlets.
ReplyDelete