Release Blitz - Excerpt & Giveaway - Dark Moon Rising by Fionn Jameson

Dark Moon Rising

Blood Martyr #4 
by Fionn Jameson 
Publication Date: October 31, 2017 
Genres: Paranormal Romance

Tanith Quinn is just a vampire trying to live a normal, simple life in Centennial City. Unfortunately for her, the Fates have other plans for this 500-year- old investigator: a serial killer is on the loose, and they’re taking out Lone Wolves. The past has finally caught up with Tanith, and as always, her history includes a tangled web of dark lies … lies that have damaged her relationship with her best friend, the powerful but human witch Jamison, potentially beyond repair. Though she did it all to save him, the fact that she has now sold both her own and Jamison’s soul to a fallen angel—and demon lord—is a betrayal he can’t forgive. With no one to watch her back and Seir controlling her every move, Tanith is now buried deeper than ever before. But the recent past isn’t the only thing that’s back to haunt Tanith. Joshua Miller, a man she met, loved, and mourned during the American Revolution, suddenly turns up on her doorstep, determined to win her heart anew. Too bad he’s a vampire. And her husband. As Tanith struggles with her feelings for Joshua, another ex re-enters her life, a werewolf named Kieran who is determined to solidify both his position as alpha and his pack’s power in the city. Could he be involved in the lone wolf murders? Though he broke her heart, Tanith can’t imagine he’s capable of such savagery, and besides, the authorities have forbidden her from interfering. Then Tanith’s friend becomes the next victim, and she can’t afford to remain complacent.

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Tanith Quinn is a vampire with a lot on her mind. After all, it’s hard to be human when you’re so used to being a monster. Between fighting off her constant blood lust, a witch with more than just friendship on his mind, and a seductive werewolf with a thirst for her body, she's a walking time bomb. And that's not to mention the entrance of an old friend who would like nothing more than to see Tanith dead. One minute, the hunter. The next, the prey. But Tan's got a few tricks up her sleeve...and she doesn't mind using them to save the ones she loves. Even if it means she has to take on the world.

Excerpt from DARK MOON RISING 
by Fionn Jameson

I hate funerals.
It’s not because everyone’s sad and depressed.
It’s not because humans are wasting their time mourning someone who doesn’t give a shit about anything anymore.
It’s because every time I find myself in a cemetery, I feel like an impostor.
And if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s faking.
Father Rodriguez had graciously offered to officiate the ceremony. There aren’t a lot of men of the cloth, excommunicated or not, willing to say prayers over a confirmed demon summoner, especially at night, but as a fellow supernatural creature, he understood no one was perfect. That and he owed me a few favors involving religious human fanatics and their penchant for burning down places of worship meant for non-humans.
“We come here today with sorrow in our hearts…”
Not sorrow.
Never sorrow. I am too old for that kind of maudlin emotion. After a few hundred years, sad things ceased being sad anymore.
But I was feeling a hell of a lot of regret.
The bitter, acrid taste of it lay heavy in my mouth and I resisted the urge to spit as Father Rodriguez droned on, voice low and solemn.
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…”
A hand squeezed mine gently, and I squeezed back, stopping before I broke something. A werewolf can take a lot of damage, but I’m a five hundred year old vampire and could’ve eaten an itty-bitty wolf like Eileen for breakfast.
Luckily for her, I already ate.
Behind me, I felt Joshua, my husband, former husband, whatever the hell he was, standing like a solid wall, his presence strangely comforting, even though I hadn’t seen him in over two hundred years.
I had gone to his funeral too.
Well, dug his grave and laid him in there, anyways. No prayers, though. Even then, I knew God didn’t exist, and if he did, he didn’t give a crap about me.
Eileen shifted next to me. “Hey.”
The moisture pooling at the corners of my eyes was suitable for the occasion, I supposed, but they weren’t for the man lying in that fifteen thousand dollar coffin.
“I’m okay.” I sniffed and immediately regretted it.
“Are you sure?” she asked, coming closer. The scent of her cloying perfume made me waver. I keep telling her Chanel No 5 is a terrible scent, but Eileen is nothing if not stubborn.
I put up a hand to stop her from getting any closer or else I would throw up all over that stupid mahogany coffin. It should’ve come studded with Swarovski crystals for how much it cost. After all, it was basically a box that would never see the light of day again. It’s like burying a chest full of money, knowing you’ll never get it back. Still, formalities had to be observed.
“Just give me a second, okay?” I said.
She made a sound of sympathy and let go of my hand, taking a step or two back.
A fist pressed to my lips, I waited for the churning in my gut to cease.
Reverend Rodriguez cleared his throat. “And as Psalms 34 says, the Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
The coffin was closed, thankfully. The morticians were magicians when it came to keeping dead bodies looking less, er, dead, but they couldn’t do much about the bullet hole above Akira’s left eye. One had tentatively brought up the subject of putty, but I vetoed that idea immediately.
My hands itched. I remembered how he laid in my arms, blood draining from his body, eyes closed, his only sin in helping me.
His reward had been death.
What a terrible way to go.

About Fionn Jameson

Originally from the sunny shores of Southern California, Fionn has made her home in various places around the world and currently resides near the world-famous (okay, maybe only China- famous) West Lake in Hangzhou, China. First published in 2007, she’s an avid snowboarder, rock star wannabe and draws in her free time.

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