Excerpt 1:
Alone in the stone cell, Julien paced the
perimeter until finally sliding his body down the unforgiving wall opposite the
cell door. With her final words still stuck in his head, he focused on the
cracks in the stones and the number of blocks stacked to form his enclosure. He
tried to memorize the angles and the dimensions of the space instead of
allowing thoughts of her warm curves pressed against him to overcome his focus.
When the vision of her bright blue eyes came into his head, he changed his
attention to the ceiling, taking in the cobwebs in the corners, the dim bulb
hanging above, and the smell of mildew hanging in the air. As his mind fell
upon the memories of their final moments together, he ground his fingernails
into the hard stone beneath him.
His concentration wavered as
something slipped through the bars of the cell door. Even in the dim lighting,
he immediately recognized the medical grade pint of packed red blood cells.
Although freshly sated by the girl’s last remaining ounce of life, the blood
still called to him. The more he tried to ignore its presence, the louder the
call became. His eyes repeatedly drifted back toward the bag as his tongue ran
over his teeth. He sniffed the air, relieved that the scent of the bag’s
contents remained trapped by the sterile sealing process.
His jaw clenched, and his
fists tightened as the pain built in the back of his throat. Picturing himself
back in France in the Church of Saint-Pierre
de Montemartre, he swallowed back the saliva that collected in his mouth
as he closed his eyes and began to chant.
“AVE MARIA, gratia plena,
Dominus tecum. Benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui,
Iesus. Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc, et in hora
mortis nostrae. Amen.[1]”
With his eyes closed, he
chanted the words over and over, repeating them until they became senseless in
his mind. Placing his head between his knees, he squeezed his eyes closed
tighter. When he started to wonder what blood type was written across the bag
in bold letters or about how fresh it might be, he changed prayers. When the
memories of the sensation of his lips on warm flesh, the sound of a pulse
echoing in his ears, or the taste of that first drop of blood on his tongue
entered his mind, he changed prayers. When he remembered her scent in his
nostrils and her flavor in his mouth, he changed prayers.
Recognizing her footsteps and
her smell, Julien did not look up as Agent Wolf stood in the doorway. After a
long silence, she finally spoke. “Mr. Durant, tell me, why should I spare you?”
“You should not,” he said.
“And why is that?”
“I am a monster. I deserve to
be ended. I wish to be ended.”
“And why should I give you
what you desire?” Her voice hinted at genuine curiosity.
“You should not.”
She said nothing else as her
footsteps disappeared down the long corridor. Silence filled the cell once
again. He was alone, alone with the blood.
Imagining himself back in the
Spiritual Exercises, he started to chant again. He had conquered the evil and
disorder within himself once so many years ago; it could be done again. Ruth
taught him that. It took losing her to prove to him that he had the choice, and
her loss gave him the strength to take it.
Even though he had witnessed
her passing with his own eyes, her presence still haunted his every thought. He
sensed her fear and despair as if she sat next to him now. But now she was
dead, and he sat alone in the stone cell.
Excerpt
2:
He had waited too long. Intense hunger was all
that drove him to fight the weakness that threatened to let him expire. Two
days ago, his intentions were to let his end find him, but as usual, the
extreme pain of his hunger became too much to fight any longer. His need pulled
him like a magnet from his bed, down the elevator, and into the parking garage
below the building. Crawling into the driver’s seat of his black two-seater, he
brought the engine to life.
With a squeal of his tires, he
pulled into the street toward Independence Avenue, his favorite hunting ground.
His eyes found her standing stiffly on a corner with another female. As he
slowed, her “friend” pushed her toward his vehicle and gave her a slap on the
thigh. “Ooo, a Porsche. Lucky you. You can do this, girl,” she said with a
drunken-sounding slur and a giggle. Once again, the streets of Kansas City had
blessed him.
Rolling down the window, he
forced his most charming smile. As their gaze met, he noticed the momentary
flash of panic in her blue eyes. Had she noticed the lack of color in his
sunken eyes? The fact that his once thick dark locks were greying and falling
out? Or was it the pale skin, which now flaked away at his cheekbones, and the
thinning of his eyebrows that caused her alarm?
Still, she leaned into the
window, causing her long, dark hair to tumble over her shoulder. Her heat hit
him like a wave, washing her intoxicating scent over him. Hearing her heart
pounding in her chest, his eyes instinctively drifted down to the cleavage
positioned so perfectly above the vital organ. She would be an excellent choice
for his evening plans. He almost grabbed her then and there, but instead
clenched the steering wheel tight in defense.
“This is a dangerous
neighborhood, sweetheart.” Giving a slight smile, he shook his head with
feigned empathy. “You really should not be out here so late... and all alone.”
It was his usual line. “Allow me to take you somewhere a bit nicer, won’t you?”
With a quick head motion to the passenger seat and a wink, he released the
automatic locks.
“Aren’t you a gentleman?” A
flush slipped across her cheeks as she smiled and laughed nervously. “A
gentleman with cash, I assume.” she said in a sweet voice with a hint of
southern cadence.
“Of course. Your company will
be well compensated.”
As she walked around the car
to the passenger door, he watched her movements like a cat watches a fish in a
bowl. The shoes she wore were clearly too tight and too tall, based on her
awkward gait, but the clingy green number she wore more than made up for it in
the way it showed her soft curves. He wanted to take her right there, but he
would have to be patient. How had he gotten so lucky tonight? This one would be
worth the wait.
As she sat next to him, she
reached a hand over to stroke his thigh with another nervous giggle.
Instinctively, his body tensed, but she did not pull away. The warmth of her
touch crept through his jeans and straight into his groin. He studied her from
the corner of his eye. She was certainly younger than his usual selections, and
more attractive. In fact, compared to most of his ladies, she seemed radiant.
He almost felt guilty about taking her.
Almost.
Excerpt
3:
“I have to know your story.”
She leaned in to him again. “Please?”
He glanced around again and
back down into his glass. “Are you quite sure? It is an ugly story, especially
considering the occasion.” He looked up into her eyes, causing her breath to
catch in her throat.
“Yes.” She held his gaze and
gave a small nod. “Please?”
He took another slow drink of
wine and refilled his glass. “I sailed from my home in France to Sainte-Marie-au-pays-des-Hurons,
a Mission in New France, which is now Ontario, Canada. It was 1640. My mission
was simple; build a relationship with the Natives and reveal God to them.”
He glanced at her and back to
his wine. “It was all very exciting at first, especially after years in study
and contemplation and then the monotonous and grueling journey to get there.”
He paused, and Ruth struggled
to contain her urge to rush him on. She could tell by the look in his eyes that
he was lost in memory.
“We were well received in the
beginning. We tried to learn their ways, their words, and their myths. We lived
in their lodges, shared their work, spoke their tongue, and ate their food.
Once we could understand how they thought and behaved, we could use that knowledge
to adapt the Gospel to something they could understand. At least that was the
plan.
“The Hurons, among whom we
lived, were a fascinating, if savage, people. And our mission seemed to be
moving forward as predicted...” He looked away as his jaw tightened.
“Then what happened?” she
urged.
“There was constant conflict
between the Hurons and the Iroquois, a warring neighboring nation. Then there
were diseases and crop failures. Eventually, the Huron started to blame our
presence for their misfortunes. Other Jesuits had already fallen victim to
unspeakable tragedies in the years before my arrival. I ….”
They were interrupted by the
arrival of the waitress. “Have you two decided what you would like?”
Ruth glanced over at him, and
he gave her a nod. “I think so. We’d like to start with your appetizer sampler.
Then I would like tonight’s special, with the soup. Thank you.” Biting her lip,
she hoped she not ordered too much. She did not want Julien to assume she was
taking advantage of his generosity.
“And you, sir?”
“I will take the same.” He
smiled politely.
“Of course. We will have those
out as soon as possible. Please let me know if there is anything else you
need.”
“Of course,” he said.
As soon as the waitress
stepped out of earshot, Ruth leaned back over the table. “So the Hurons were
blaming you for war and disease...”
“Yes. Which made our mission
much more difficult. That and the fact that the Iroquois were seeking full
control of the French fur trade. Then there were strange whispers about the
arrival of the Devil in the woods. ”
“Okay, so then what happened?”
“One day like any other day,
in 1642, while I was assisting in gathering materials for one of the shelters,
I was taken captive by a group of Iroquois warriors.” Again, he paused, using
his wine glass as an excuse to stop the story.
“And?” She knew her eyes were
wide with anticipation.
“And...It is an experience I
have tried for a long time to forget.” He trailed off.
“Oh, forgive me. I don’t mean
to be insensitive.” Feeling her face start to flush, she took a drink of her
wine and stared into the glass in silence.
Their waitress approached
again, and placed the large plate of appetizers on the table. “Can I get you
more wine?”
“Please,” Julien said.
“My pleasure.” She smiled and
left.
Meanwhile, Ruth picked at the
food as she sneaked a glance across the table.
“It was the first time in my
life up until that point that I had ever questioned my faith...”
Looking up, she found him
staring directly into her eyes, causing the breath to catch in her throat. “You
don’t have to continue.”
“The tortures went on for
hours. Beatings and whippings and burns... threats with arrows through my heart
and scalping. When I asked why, they told me, ‘because the Devil made them do
it!’” He laughed.
She cringed at the sound. “I
don’t understand.”
“After they had pulled out my
fingernails and driven stakes through my feet..”
“Oh how terrible!” she gasped.
“I’m so sorry...I didn’t mean to...”
“They said, ‘We hope your God
can save you from our Devil.’ Then suddenly, I was alone in the woods, staked
to the ground by my feet.”
The waitress interrupted with
another bottle of wine. “Thank you,” they replied in unison and she left the
open bottle on the table after refilling both their glasses.
“Julien, please...”
“That’s when She found
me.”
“Oh?” She couldn’t help but be
curious at this point, despite the horridness of what she had heard.
“Tawiskala. She was at
once beautiful and frightening. I was not sure whether to scream or cry or beg
for mercy.” He glanced around the room several times before he leaned in closer
as his voice lowered.
“She spoke to me in the Native
tongue. ‘Why are you here, Fair One?’
“‘To honor God,’ I replied.
“‘Tell me, Black Robe, do you
fear death?’ she whispered in my ear, causing me to shiver.
“‘No. I have the promise of
eternal life should I be deemed worthy,’ I remember saying.
“‘I too give eternal life,
should I deem you worthy. Allow me to alleviate your suffering, Holy Man.’
“‘I suffer willingly.’
“‘But needlessly.’ She pulled
the stakes from my feet, causing me to cry out.
“‘This is nothing more than a
test. I will not give in to your temptation, She-Devil.’ She dug her claws into
my wounds, causing me to struggle against her, but it was useless. Next, she
licked away my tears as she laughed. The sound made me vomit.” He stared into
his wine glass.
Holding her breath, Ruth
waited for him to continue. She almost cried out in surprise when their
waitress reappeared with their dinner plates.
“Can I get you anything else
right now?”
“No, we’re fine,” Julien
responded. His eyes followed the waitress as she left them. “Then her cold
touch relieved my pain. Her kisses healed my wounds and...” His lips tightened
into a frown.
Biting her knuckle, she felt
her pulse quicken. “And?”
“And then..” He looked away
from her as his fists clenched beside his glass. “...Eventually, she drank.” He
reached up to his own neck as his eyes closed.
He looked at her again, his
pale eyes still distant. “Until my body went numb and my vision went dark. I
thought I was dead. I felt myself praying for forgiveness as I hoped it would
end soon.” He took a large gulp from his glass.
“And then, a sweet taste
passed my lips.” He took another drink and closed his eyes. “The numbness was
overcome by an icy-hot fire as my entire being convulsed.”
Covering her mouth with her
hand, Ruth’s eyes widened.
“When I opened my eyes the
next evening, I could think of only one thing.” His eyes shot open, and he
stared straight through her.
“What?” She swallowed hard.
“Blood.”
Ruth shivered. “Oh.”
“Tawiskala was prepared. One
of the Iroquois warriors lay bound nearby.” He frowned.
“It disgusted and thrilled me,
how easily I was able to end that life. And once he had nothing left to give, I
set off in search of more. Six people died by my hand that first night alone.”
He emptied the bottle into his glass. “I can still remember it like it was last
night. Each face. Each scream.” Lifting his glass, he took another deep sip.
She said nothing for a long
time. She couldn’t find the right words as her mind tried to comprehend the
violence he described. Finally, she mumbled, “I see.”
“But enough about that.” He
finished his wine in one long gulp. “Let us enjoy this lovely meal. Shall we?”
He smiled at her, although his eyes lacked the same enthusiasm.
Excerpt
4:
Agent Samantha Wolf reviewed the surveillance
video for the fifth time that hour. Frustrated, she rewound the tape and played
it a sixth time. Her sources had verified that the woman was indeed the one for
which she searched, but her case ended there. The tape remained her only hard
evidence. There must be something in it she had missed. She needed something
new, anything new. Her only angle thus far had been the black Porsche. Only a
few people in the entire state owned that exact make, model, and trim in that
color, all of which she had questioned personally.
Sighing, she opened her notes
and flipped through the pages. There was no body. She almost always had a body.
If not a body, she had a victim with a story and a trail of clues leading straight
to her undead perpetrator. She had no body, no victim, and only a dried up
trail of black sports cars to work from. Why did she agree to a missing person’s
case? There was absolutely zero evidence to support anything other than a human
had taken the girl from that street corner. This case was not even in her
jurisdiction.
Looking over at the photo of
her husband in uniform sitting on the nightstand in her hotel room, she shook
her head and pulled the frame closer. She was not doing this because it was her
job, she was doing this because it was the right thing to do for her fellow
officer, and a good friend of her husband. If it was her husband missing, she
hoped a friend would do the same for her. In fact, Jonathan Ryan had done that
for her. By sending her the letter cataloging her husband’s last moments, and
the happier times prior to those moments, including photos and comments from
his other friends, he had given her something she felt she needed to return.
She was determined to find his missing wife. He deserved that, and she had the
training and the resources to do it.
Reading over her notes, she
tried desperately to connect the dots. She flipped through the profiles of the
eight Porsche drivers she had questioned recently. Of the eight, two were women,
and five had verified alibis. Mr. William Durand of Kansas City, MO remained
the only man whom had yet to prove his whereabouts that evening. His address
was mere blocks away from the location where Ms. Ryan had last been seen, but
other than her gut feeling about him, she had no other real evidence against
him. The car and the address hardly proved anything other than his wealth.
When she had visited Magdalen
Durant, as she had called herself, Wolf had no idea at the time that the girl
she was investigating for unrelated reasons, would become the same woman she so
desperately wanted to find now. If only she had opened the email from Jonathan
sooner, instead of allowing it to drift further down her inbox until she had
all but forgotten about it. As soon as she read Jonathan’s desperate plea for
help and opened the picture of the exact girl she had interviewed a few days
prior, she regretted her decision. Had she had this information during the
interview, she imagined it would have ended very differently.
Instead of just some random
female who had flagged the alerts she had in place with the hospital as part of
her ongoing investigation into mysterious deaths from extreme blood loss, she
was Mary Ruth Jacobson-Ryan, wife of her dead husband’s best friend, and recent
missing person case to which she had unofficially assigned herself. She assumed
it to be coincidence. All of her other victims had been prostitutes. It seemed
now to be one of her stranger cases, actually; dead, bloodless prostitutes
found with slit wrists in motel rooms around the city every three to four
weeks.
It took the local authorities
years to see the pattern and wonder if they were connected. Everyone involved
in the individual cases attributed the deaths to suicide and rightly so, based
on the obvious evidence. But to her experienced eyes, it had to be vampiric in
nature. Nothing else she had encountered could drain a human dry in such an
exact way, not even suicide via wrist slitting in a bathtub.
Turning to her notes again,
she read through the details regarding her interview with Ms. Durant/Mrs. Ryan.
As she scanned them, her eyes stopped.
“Scarring to a wound
consistent with previous suicide attempt by exsanguination via laceration of
the radial artery at the wrist.”
While this detail had been
important when Wolf had been focused on her bloodless prostitute case, somehow
she had forgotten it when she realized she had missed her chance to confront
Jonathan Ryan’s missing wife.
Looking over at her calendar,
she noted, for the first time, that the highlighted days had come and gone with
no dead girl found in a motel bathtub. Furthermore, the woman’s arrival at the
hospital correlated with that timeline perfectly.
What if she wasn’t working two
different cases? What if Mary Ruth Jacobson-Ryan was the latest victim of her
prostitute-preying predator? She did disappear from a street corner well known
for such activity. It could be possible that she had fallen victim in the same
way the others had.
Thinking back to her interview
with Mrs. Ryan, she tried to understand if indeed she had experienced and
survived an attack by a vampire, why she would not have said anything about the
attack during their exchange. So many questions swirled through the agent’s
mind - Did she not remember? Did she not care? Did she not think she would be
believed? Was she being coerced into silence? If so, how and why? Why had she
been allowed to live when so many others had died? How had she escaped?
Samantha’s thoughts drifted to
the possibility that Mr. Durand could be one of the immortals she usually
investigated. He definitely had a certain air about him - the difficult-to-place
accent, the large amount of wealth for a man no one had seemed to have heard
of, and a bit of arrogance when speaking with the law that she had encountered
with her other vampires of significant age and experience. She remembered him
being attractive and healthy in appearance at the time she had met him, meaning
if he were indeed vampire, he had probably fed recently, but not too recently,
judging by the whites of his eyes and the paleness of his skin.
Making a note to get more
security footage from Mr. Durand’s building to determine if he ever left during
daylight hours, she grabbed her folder that contained the details of the
prostitute case. Pulling out the map showing the locations of the victims’
bodies and their last known locations prior to their deaths, she located the
loft building in which Mr. Durand lived.
“Aha!” she exclaimed as she
noticed the building’s location, centrally located among the mess of dots. Her
suspicions increased, and now the evidence started to support them.
Excerpt
5:
Days passed as Julien sat motionless and alone
in his small, dark motel room. He begged himself to be strong; not to return to
her. Still, he could not free Ruth from his thoughts. Was she okay? Had she
found his note? Did she understand? What was she doing now? Who was she with?
Was she happy? Had she forgiven him? Would she ever forgive him?
Suddenly, as if driven by an
exterior force, he stood as the empty bottles of cheap whiskey rattled around
his feet. He needed to forget about her, to find a distraction; to feel
something else - anything else.
He left the room with a
flurry. Once outside, he just kept walking. He knew this part of town was
perfect for his need because that was precisely why he had chosen it in the
first place. In a few blocks, he happened onto a Gentlemen’s club, and
immediately he knew without explanation that it was one of those types of
places known to be “vampire friendly.”
As he stepped inside to the
loud club music, a large doorman stared down at him from his perch on a stool.
“A new guy, huh?”
Julien nodded.
“No worries. You’ll be a
regular soon enough. You don’t have any weapons on you, do you?”
“None.” He raised his hands
into the air.
“Then you won’t mind me
patting you down.” He did not wait for a response as his hands ran over
Julien’s body with efficiency and experience. “Okay. You may enter. Drinks in
front. Ladies in back. Snacks all around.” The man laughed and revealed his
needle-like fangs before stepping aside.
Julien snaked his way through
the crowd toward the bar. After ordering himself a whiskey on the rocks, he
moved to take a seat in front of the stage. While he had no interest in the
strippers, he did have interest in what was happening around him. Vampires of
all genders, shapes, sizes, and colors mingling with men and women who were as
equally diverse. No reserve existed toward sinking fangs into flesh as humans
moaned and whimpered and vampires laughed and purred.
He became so engrossed in
gawking at the debauchery happening around him, he failed to notice a woman
approach him until she spoke.
“Looks like you could use
another,” she said as she sat down next to him and pushed him a second whiskey
across the table.
He smiled politely. “I suppose
I could.” He took a long sip and glanced at her. She was attractive; tall, and
lanky with choppy blonde hair and dark eyes. He guessed her age to be
mid-thirties, but he could not be sure.
Smiling, she tipped her own
drink toward him. “You have not been here before.”
He shook his head.
“So what is it you are looking
for, sir?” She leaned in closer.
“To forget,” he mumbled.
“Lucky for you, that is my
specialty.” She slid closer to him.
As he felt the heat radiating
from her, he noted her earthy scent as it entered his nostrils, and his throat
tightened.
“Yes?” She cocked her head so
he could see the previous fang marks over her pulsating carotid.
“Yes.” Leaning in toward her,
he contemplated what she might taste like.
“Yes,” she hummed as she
placed a hand on his knee.
He sniffed her again, feeling
the saliva pooling around his tongue. Licking his lips, he stroked a hand down
her face as he watched her chest rise and fall. How easy it would be just to
sink his teeth into her soft flesh. How pleasurable it would be to feel her
warmth flood his mouth. How nice it would be to taste something other than the
sour taste of guilt he currently struggled to swallow down.
“You can do it,” she said.
As if she had slapped him
across the face, his mind was jolted back to reality, and he looked up at the
woman’s face. She had no way of knowing of what he was capable. Why was she so
willing to risk life and limb to let him partake of her life force? What was in
it for her?
Trying to see her as just
another prostitute giving herself to him like all the others, he searched for
the self-righteous attitude that had once allowed him to feel entitled to judge
those as worthy and unworthy of continued existence. Despite his attempts to
remind himself of his previous exploits, he could not find the mentality to
justify his planned actions.
“I am not like these others,
you know?” he whispered.
“What do you mean?” she said.
Her eyes widened, and he could not be certain if it was from fear or curiosity.
“I have no self control.” He
swallowed.
“Then just turn me if you
fail,” she replied with a half smile.
Again, her actions hit him
like a slap on the face. He would not be responsible for creating another
monster, and he did not want the guilt of another death. “I should not be
here,” he said. He stood and finished off his drink. “My apologies, miss, but
you will have to find another accomplice tonight.” With a quick nod, he turned
from her and walked away.
Interview:
What inspired you to write this novel, Beyond the Reach of Judgement?
To be honest. I read Twilight
several years ago and found myself in love with the concept., many of the
characters, and the genre, but overall disappointed in what I felt was a lack
of “steaminess,” a weak central female character who drove me insane, and some
questionable ideas about relationships and love. For years I thought about how
things would have been different had I had control of the story. Then I read
several more short stories, novellas, and novels with vampire/human
relationships and found myself engrossed with shows like True Blood and Vampire
Diaries. Finally, I decided I had to try it myself. Thanks for the 30K words I
wrote during NaNoWriMo 2012, I had a good start. It took some time, many
beta-readers, and a good editor do the appropriate research and to polish the
story, but finally I felt I had something worth sharing.
What are some challenges you faced while writing Beyond the Reach of
Judgement?
I find it difficult to step out of
the story and see it from a readers' perspective. Many of my beta-readers have
opened my eyes to just how much I tend to assume readers know when I haven't
yet told them. I also find it hard to capture some of the details I know about
my characters that make them real to me but aren't necessarily crucial to the
plot. Thankfully, the novel has come a long way since its first draft and the
characters have found ways to distinguish themselves with each new draft.
What do you do when you are not writing?
I spend the majority of my time
working as a full-time physician caring for hospitalized adult patients. I love
my job, but I find writing helps me unwind and explore emotions, problems, and
themes that I can't allow myself to explore or simply don't have time to
explore while at work.
When I have long breaks, I like to
travel. The places I've been often end up as settings for my writing. During my
travels, I spend time experimenting with photography and often do volunteer work. I enjoy
snowboarding, archery, and hiking as well as watching movies. I occasionally
post film reviews on my blog.
Do your experiences influence your writing?
Most definitely, but probably not
the way that many would think. I know I've been very fortunate in my life,
having an excellent family, an excellent support system of friends, and some
good luck. In my job, I see so many people that aren't so fortunate and often
wonder how things would be different if I faced such adversity and challenges.
Often, these thoughts become central themes in my writing and are my way
dealing with these questions.
Why do you write paranormal romance and urban fantasy?
Mostly I write these genres because
I enjoy reading them. I think they have exciting and unique characters and
allow just the right combination of escapism and guilty pleasure. I like the
way using unreal creatures and settings with ties to reality allows me to work
with complicated themes and ideas without having to weighed down the the
“rules” of reality. I find that using non-human creatures actually accentuates
and highlights what it means to be human and magical elements are often
representation of real life problems but can be manipulated and viewed in ways
that the “real world” just does not allow. Plus, who doesn't enjoy fantasizing
a little?
What's next for you?
I am currently working on an Urban
Fantasy surrounding the mystery of The Black Angel grave marker in Iowa
City, IA, which I am very excited about. After that, I hope to write a sequel
and/or a spin-off of Beyond the Reach of Judgement. I also have outlines for a
mermaid adventure/romance and a gargoyle paranormal romance I have yet to start
writing.
[1] Hail Mary, full of grace. Our Lord is
with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb,
Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of
our death. Amen.
Publication date: April 19th 2014
Genres: New Adult, Paranormal
Genres: New Adult, Paranormal
Synopsis:
“Did we leave any sin out?” She replied with a forced weak laugh.
“No. Between the two of us, I think we have managed to cover them all.” He mumbled as that uncomfortable lump in his gut returned.
Julien Rene Durant was once a good man. Born in France, he took the oath as a Jesuit Priest in the 1600s. He dedicated his life to spreading the Gospel. Now, he was a monster surviving off the blood of others; killing for survival even as he wished for nothing other than for his own extinction. After almost four centuries of guilt and hopelessness, he encounters someone who might just be able to rescue the good man trapped within the monster, but will his judgements deny him a second chance?
Mary Ruth Jacobson-Ryan is nothing special; a small town girl stuck in a rut. Married to the local Iraqi War Hero who turned out not to be the perfect guy she fell in love with before the war, she is desperate for a way out. When things turn from bad to worse, she runs with plans to never look back. She quickly finds, however, that her search for a better future may lead her down a path with no future at all.
“No. Between the two of us, I think we have managed to cover them all.” He mumbled as that uncomfortable lump in his gut returned.
Julien Rene Durant was once a good man. Born in France, he took the oath as a Jesuit Priest in the 1600s. He dedicated his life to spreading the Gospel. Now, he was a monster surviving off the blood of others; killing for survival even as he wished for nothing other than for his own extinction. After almost four centuries of guilt and hopelessness, he encounters someone who might just be able to rescue the good man trapped within the monster, but will his judgements deny him a second chance?
Mary Ruth Jacobson-Ryan is nothing special; a small town girl stuck in a rut. Married to the local Iraqi War Hero who turned out not to be the perfect guy she fell in love with before the war, she is desperate for a way out. When things turn from bad to worse, she runs with plans to never look back. She quickly finds, however, that her search for a better future may lead her down a path with no future at all.
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Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/D-
Jo Bissell started writing in middle school with fantasy stories inspired by books such as The Hobbit, and in fact once turned in a journal project written entirely in Dwarfish Ruins. She then explored fanfiction and short speculative fiction writing. Now, after many years of study, she spends most of her time working as a full time physician caring for hospitalized adults. When she is not writing or doctoring, she enjoys reading, watching movies, traveling, archery, thrift store shopping, and snowboarding. She currently resides in the Iowa City, IA area with her husband and two cats.
Beyond the Reach of Judgement is Jo Bissell’s first original novel which evolved out of a 2012 National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) project. She also has a short speculative fiction piece, His Eyes, available for Kindle. Future planned novels include a sequel to Beyond the Reach of Judgement, other works of urban fantasy and paranormal romances, and a science fiction novel. She continues to participate in NaNoWriMo.
Connect with me:
email: jjobissell@gmail.com
Amazon Author Page: http://amzn.com/e/B00CEDZWHM
Goodreads Author Page: http://www.goodreads.com/JoBissell
Margay, thank you for the wonderful post. I appreciate the support. ~Jo
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