Release date: September 14, 2015
When Civil War nurse Ruth Blackstone sacrificed her soul to save her husband’s life, he utterly betrayed her trust. Now, 150 years later, she’s still stuck killing depraved souls to feed her devil of a boss, Jerahmeel. She’s never been one for hair-brained schemes or sweet-talking flirts. That is, until she meets Cajun rogue Odie Pierre-Noir.
Odie has the research and the war plan to overthrow Jerahmeel and win freedom for all Indebteds. There’s just one hitch: he needs Ruth to act as bait. With charm on his side, he shows Ruth an intense passion she’s never experienced before.
Now Ruth must make the hardest decision of her long, damned life: continue in relative safety as an Indebted with Odie as her lover, or risk their eternal souls for one chance to break the curse. Will she choose the lesser evil?
by Jillian David
Jillian David writes, daydreams, and duct tapes people back together. Drive to the end of the Earth, then keep going for another hour, and you’ll arrive at her home. Find her at www.jilliandavid.net and on Twitter @JillianDavid13.
An excerpt from Flame Unleashed:
Holy hell, she needed to kill someone.
Impractical stiletto leather boots snapped against concrete as she strode up the chipped sidewalk near the Warehouse District of New Orleans. Dilapidated, abandoned buildings clashed with garish bars that depended on sports fans, college students, and tourists. This section of Port Street wasn’t a main road or a well-to-do area of town.
Good. That meant fewer tourists but more denizens like her—beings that worked best in the shadows.
Tonight, there must have been a football game or another equally inane reason to imbibe, judging from the amount of people out. Of course, drunkenness was not a crime, despite what she might think of her former husband, God rest his bastard soul. No matter, she would find some kind of louse among the lushes before this night ended.
Farther down the street, the quality of the architecture deteriorated. Dozens of motorcycles were parked outside one raucous establishment. No peppy zydeco tunes here. Instead, tired metal beats drifted into the street. Yes, this area would do nicely for her evening’s goals.
Just another night in a city, obtaining her requisite kills. The macabre had become routine. How sad.
A few men leaned against the cinderblock storefront, faint light illuminating the tips of their cigarettes. When she sauntered by, paused, and pretended to contemplate entering the bar, she had their attention. Let them take note, lulled into a sense of security.
Enjoy the view while you can, boys.
One man caught her knife’s interest—the blade craved criminals. What remained of the man’s bone-straight hair had been pulled into a thin ponytail, and a leather vest strained over his belly. Its fringe was overkill, along with silver detailing that glinted on the new motorcycle boots. He probably owned one of those souped-up custom Harleys parked front and center.
Leather-clad motorcycle guys were generally sexy, but not tonight’s fare. Too bad.
Despite his ridiculous getup, her knife began to pulse on her leg, begging for her to reach into the slit on her leather pants, slide the knife from the sheath beneath her boot, and shove it into …
Got a criminal. Now to reel him in. Might even get the Meaningful Kill tonight.
Tossing her fake hair back off her shoulders, she reveled in the waist-length blond waves. She rarely wore her natural hair down, so this wig brought her to a whole different state of being. Part of her costume was designed to attract certain types of criminals. Part of the costume freed her spirit. So long, mild-mannered nurse. Welcome back, Ms. Blond Bombshell.