Sierra can be reached all over the place, as she’s a little addicted to social networking. Find her on:
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Look for these titles by Sierra Dean
Now Available:
Secret McQueen
Something Secret This Way Comes
The Secret Guide to Dating Monsters
A Bloody Good Secret
Secret Santa
Deep Dark Secret
Keeping Secret
Grave Secret
A Low Down Dirty Shane
Coming Soon:
Secret McQueen
Secret Unleashed
Cold Hard Secret
A Secret to Die For
Some secrets are dangerous. This Secret is deadly.
Something Secret This Way Comes
© 2011 Sierra Dean
Secret McQueen, Book 1
For Secret McQueen, her life feels like the punch line for a terrible joke. Abandoned at birth by her werewolf mother, hired as a teen by the vampire council of New York City to kill rogues, Secret is a part of both worlds, but belongs to neither. At twenty-two, she has carved out as close to a normal life as a bounty hunter can.
When an enemy from her past returns with her death on his mind, she is forced to call on every ounce of her mixed heritage to save herself—and everyone else in the city she calls home. As if the fate of the world wasn’t enough to deal with, there’s Lucas Rain, King of the East Coast werewolves, who seems to believe he and Secret are fated to be together. Too bad Secret also feels a connection with Desmond, Lucas’s second-in-command…
Warning: This book contains a sarcastic, kick-ass bounty hunter; a metaphysical love triangle with two sexy werewolves; a demanding vampire council; and a spicy seasoning of sex and violence.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Something Secret This Way Comes:
“I really need to shower,” I admitted, taking a moment to recognize my clothing wasn’t the worst part of me. My cheeks and mouth were smeared with blood, and judging by how heavy my hair felt, it had begun to mat the curls together, which must have looked quite dramatic. My nails had bits of werewolf cheek embedded under them. Gross. I disappeared into my bedroom to fetch my robe, then returned to the living room, where Desmond remained motionless. “Make yourself at home. If you need to change, there are some sweats and T-shirts in the bottom drawer of my dresser that might fit you.” I pointed down the dark hallway. “Help yourself.”
Stumbling into the bathroom, I didn’t bother to close the door. I shucked off my soiled clothing and turned the water on as hot as I could, then climbed into the shower.
I stood under the scalding torrent until the water was no longer pink with blood. It felt like hours and a few layers of flesh later that I finally set foot on dry land again.
I couldn’t be bothered to dry my hair other than to towel off as much water as I could. My curls had always been fat and loose, not tight and frizzy, so I wasn’t worried about them getting too out of control.
Slipping on the lilac silk robe, I wondered why I had ever bought such a stupid thing. It clung to me everywhere water was still on my body.
After exiting the bathroom, a cool wall of air greeted me in the living room, but there was no sign of Desmond. My loveseat was vacant and the television remained off. I didn’t see him in the kitchen, either. I crossed the short distance to my bedroom and stood in the doorway.
He sat on the end of my bed, shirtless, wearing a pair of old, baggy black sweats that had been left by the only man I’d dated long enough for him to leave things behind. Several fresh cuts marred Desmond’s chest, all of which were in the process of healing into pink scars. They would be gone by morning. His head was in his hands, and when he looked up I could see the weariness and frustration in his eyes. I assumed he was worried about Lucas until he spoke.
“I don’t know what we would have done if something had happened to you tonight.”
Again with this we business. It was the second time he’d said it tonight.
I got defensive, thinking he was being overbearing. “But you don’t even like me. You can’t stand to look at me. You don’t think—” My temper was bubbling, but he was shaking his head.
“Lucas knew the minute he met me that when he became king of the pack it would be with me as his second. He knew it when we were only children. Because of his certainty, his family took me and my brother in, treated us like their own sons, and raised us to understand that kind of life in a way our own parents could not.”
I could think of only one response. “Dominick’s your brother?” It was difficult to reconcile the idea of short, blond Dominick being related to dark, olive-skinned Desmond. Not to mention their different demeanors.