Book Blitz - Excerpt & Giveaway - Blood Bound: A Lowrance Vampires Novel by R.J. Blain

Blood Bound: A Lowrance Vampires Novel by R.J. Blain

Publication date: January 28th 2020
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance

After waking in a shallow grave and clawing her way to freedom, Penelope Francis hunts for the rogue who stole her life and transformed her into a vampire. Despite being corrupted into a feared preternatural, she clings to her humanity and refuses to prey on innocents, instead slaking her thirst on other miscreant vampires.
In exchange for a chance at revenge, she joins forces with the charismatic master of the Lowrance brood, a choice that may spell the salvation—or destruction—of humanity as she knows it.


I’d go to hell, prison, and my grave again for it, but I’d need a bottle of wine and a fluffy blanket. I didn’t even know if vampires could get drunk, but I’d find out one way or the other. Actually, fuck the wine. I’d go straight for the gin and vermouth, and I wouldn’t bother with the lime or olive. The alcohols could mix in my stomach as I guzzled straight from the bottles.
I’d never tested my luck to see how far I could jump or how far I could fall. The building across West 127th Street still stood, making it ideal for my needs. With little to lose and everything to gain, I saw no reason not to try. If I died smacking into the sidewalk, well, no one would miss another miscreant.
If I failed, I’d test the limits of vampiric immortality.
Like the rest of the building, the protesters had destroyed the staircase leading to the roof, and they’d been thorough enough I needed to go out a window and climb. Complaining wouldn’t change facts, so I did a circuit of the top floor, found a window that wouldn’t rip me to pieces crawling through it, and tested the bricks.
As expected, they crumbled. I located the sturdiest section of wall, picked a deteriorating brick above it, and made a foothold to give me the leverage needed to make it to the roof. The building’s abandoned state simplified matters for me. As no one expected someone in the building, those gathered below never bothered to look up.
Before I’d been a vampire, I doubted I would’ve had the physical strength required to wiggle up a brick wall and over the ledge onto a flat roof high above a sewage moat. I rolled and sucked in deep breaths through clenched teeth. Despite the number of times I’d pulled similar stunts, I hated how the rotting brick crumbled beneath my fingertips. I absolutely loathed when they shifted under my feet and threatened to dump me to the ground.
I especially abhorred when the wind picked up and howled through the streets of Harlem, doing its best to tear me off the wall. Even at its most gentle, I believed the breeze breathed curses at me for my refusal to give in to its plans.
Had the Mink Building boasted a peaked roof, I wouldn’t have attempted the jump across West 127th street. As it was, the distance worried me. I doubted a human, even an Olympian, could manage such a feat. I’d have no room for error; the buildings were of equal height, and if I missed, I’d bounce off the bricks and splatter to the broken streets below. With my luck, I’d hit one of the law enforcement vehicles or protestors littering the intact sections of the road first.
Either way, I expected my body to be mangled, a blessing in my opinion.
It’s taken me less than a week after death to come to the conclusion I was better off as an unsolved mystery.
Backing up as far as I could go on the roof, I sprinted for the edge, picked my target on the neighboring building, and jumped. Before the terror of hanging in the air could kick in, I smacked into the ledge. Sharp pain tore through my chest, and I slid back before shaking off the stunning impact and scrambling for a hold. I crammed my elbows against the brick, hissing as my skin tore. Jamming my toes into the mortar, I kicked, rolled over onto the roof, and gasped for breath.
No matter how many times in a night I cursed my existence as a vampire, I had to admit there were perks to unlife.
With a low groan, I flopped onto my back to ease the pressure on my chest. The next time I did something stupid like jump from building to building, I’d remember the landing hurt.
I’d also remember to check for signs of life before making the jump.

Author Bio:
RJ Blain suffers from a Moleskine journal obsession, a pen fixation, and a terrible tendency to pun without warning.
In her spare time, she daydreams about being a spy. Her contingency plan involves tying her best of enemies to spinning wheels and quoting James Bond villains until satisfied.



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