The
Passion Season:
Book
I of the Covalent Series
Libby
Doyle
Genre:
urban fantasy/paranormal romance
Publisher:
Fairhill Publishing LLC
Date
of Publication: March 20, 2016
ISBN:
978-0-9972985-0-5
ASIN:
B01CCE4U8E
Number
of pages: 556 in ePub
Word
Count: 117,259
Cover
Artist: Damonza.com
Book
Description: In loving him, she overcomes her pain, but to discover
his true identity would shred the reality she thought she knew.
He
is Barakiel. Warrior. Exile. Hopeless romantic. Barakiel is Covalent,
a race of ancient beings who use their great power to keep the
elemental forces of Creation and Destruction in Balance. The Covalent
Council exiled Barakiel to the Earthly Realm as the price of the
treachery of his father, Lucifer, who wages perpetual war against it.
Lucifer also relentlessly pursues his son. The Council thinks Lucifer
views his son’s power as a threat, but Barakiel knows his father
seeks to destroy even the memory of love.
She
is Alexandra “Zan” O'Gara. FBI Agent. Army veteran. Recovering
drunk. Zan’s troubled past left her with little interest in men,
but she had never encountered anyone like the stunning Rainer
Barakiel. Zan believes Rainer is a wealthy businessman with expertise
in edged weapons who can help her with a case. From the moment she
meets him she wants him more than she’s ever wanted anything, but
her intense attraction is as frightening as it is thrilling.
This
is their love story. As Zan’s deepening feelings for Rainer lead
her to confront her emotional damage, he struggles to meet the
demands of his home world so he will be free to love her, and to
reveal his true nature. Through the gruesome crime that first brought
Zan to his door, Barakiel learns that his presence in the Earthly
Realm has placed some of its most vulnerable citizens in danger.
Compelled to protect them, he undertakes a series of duties he may
not survive, even as Zan rescues him from centuries of a deadened
heart.
Excerpt:
The Meet
From
part one, Vernal Equinox, Chapter 1
The
front of the main building had a set of massive wooden double doors
and a smaller heavy wooden door to the side with the bell. She rang,
and when the door opened she forgot she was supposed to speak. He was
gigantic, at least six foot eight, with broad shoulders and a lithe,
athletic build. A few strands of his unruly, mid-length blond hair
fell over eyes that seemed to be several shades of blue at once. They
drew her in with more than their beauty, as if something primeval was
hidden in their depths, just barely restrained. He faintly smiled.
She knew her face was getting red.
[Internal]
What the hell. Don’t be such a fool.
“Um,
hello, I’m Special Agent Alexandra O’Gara of the FBI.” She
stuck out her hand. “My office made an appointment.”
“Yes.
I’m Rainer Barakiel. A pleasure to meet you.” His voice was rich
and deep and he spoke with a slight accent. When he shook her hand,
she held it too long. She still felt flushed.
“I,
um, I appreciate you taking the time for this, Mr. Barakiel.”
“I’m
happy to help.”
[Internal]
God, so lame. He must have to deal with swooning women all the time,
but I doubt he expected it from an FBI agent.
Turning
gracefully, he showed her through the door. Zan tried not to stare at
the way his jeans fit his hips, or the contours of his muscles
beneath his gray cashmere sweater. Gripped by a strong urge to run
her hands all over him, she was lucky his place was filled with
fascinating things to distract her. Antiques and art were arranged
tastefully in the open space, among brown leather couches and chairs
and colorful woven rugs. Pale sun from high skylights glinted off a
sunburst mosaic above the mantle of a huge concrete fireplace. Zan
tried to concentrate on her surroundings, at least until her pulse
slowed down.
“What
a fantastic place.”
“Thank
you.” He dipped his head toward her in an old-fashioned display of
manners that she found charming.
“This
whole property is great. What was it used for, before you lived
here?”
“This
land was part of the old Rohm and Haas Chemical plant you can still
see as you enter. The facility was shut down in 2010.”
“I
wish more people would reclaim these abandoned places by the river.
Most of it just goes to waste, and meanwhile they’re developing
Chester County farmland.”
“Yes.”
He looked at her intensely. “I felt good about redeveloping a
brownfield. I had to do a lot of remediation, but now it’s an
excellent place to live.”
“All
you need now is for the city to buy the front parcel and turn it into
a park.” Zan gave him her best sunny smile, with an openness she
knew made people trust her.
“That
would be ideal,” he replied, “but I’m not holding my breath.”
He returned her smile.
[Internal]
My god, you’re beautiful. How are you that beautiful?
Why
am I here? The knives.
“Um,
in the interest of not taking up any more of your time than
necessary, these are the knives in question.” Zan held up the case.
“Daggers, I think. Did Professor Carson explain where we found
them?”
“Superficially,
yes.”
“Well,
someone conducted some kind of ritual in Independence National
Historical Park. We wouldn’t be that concerned with weird people
doing weird things at night, but we found a human spleen. We tested
the DNA and ran it through the database and discovered that the
spleen came from a body found this past winter by the Philadelphia
police. All its internal organs had been removed. The police called
us because they thought it might involve organ trafficking, but we
never found any evidence of it, so we weren’t much help. No one
ever filed a missing persons report on this man, and Philly PD was
never able to identify the corpse, let alone solve the crime.”
“Disturbing,”
he said.
“Very.
We thought if you could tell us something about the knives it might
give us some insight into what this whole thing was about, maybe
generate some sort of lead. They look old, and Professor Carson said
you are an expert in antique bladed weapons.”
“Yes.
I collect them. I’ve learned a lot over the years.”
“Let’s
take a look,” Zan said. He led her to a massive carved table to the
left near the kitchen area. She opened the case and laid the daggers
out on a cloth. After he leaned down to scrutinize them, he said they
were ceremonial daggers and asked if he could pick them up. Zan told
him that because they were evidence, he would need to wear latex
gloves. She handed him a pair. He tried to put one on for a minute,
then frowned at her.
“I’m
sorry. It’s too small.”
Zan
stared at his hands. They were huge, but not meaty. They looked like
they could crush a man’s skull, but also assemble a fine Swiss
watch.
[Internal]
Or maybe gently touch me.
She
felt the heat rise to her face again. He raised an eyebrow.
“You
can use the glove like a handkerchief and just pick it up that way,”
she said, fixing her gaze on the floor.
Picking
up a dagger, he held it level with his eyes. When he had done the
same to all four and they were back in the case, he motioned Zan
closer and directed her to lean down. He showed her the intricate
motifs and the manner in which the blades were joined to the hilts.
He explained that from these features, he could determine that the
blades were ceremonial, made in France in the late 19th
century. She struggled to listen to what he was saying. That
impossible face was so close, and she could smell him. He smelled
like a pristine forest in the spring.
About
the Author:
Libby
Doyle is
an attorney and former journalist who took a walk around the
corporate world and didn’t like it. She escapes the mundane by
writing extravagant yarns, filled with sex and violence. She loves
absurd humor, travel, punk rock, and her husband.
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Thanks for the excerpt! Should be an interesting book!
ReplyDeleteDeborah
I won this book in a previous sweepstakes (so I'm not entering this one) but it is a book that is hard to put down once you begin it. I'm looking forward to September when the next one comes out.
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