Danielle Annett
Cursed by Fire
Release Date: January 28th, 2015
Blurb:
It has been six years since the Awakening and
peace in Spokane, Washington is still tenuous at best. The vampires and
shifters are all vying for control of the city and the humans seem to be the
ones suffering the consequences, or so it seems.
Aria Naveed has spent the last two years of
her life fighting to make the many wrongs of the world right, but soon finds
out that the humans aren’t as weak as they appear and may be a more terrifying
foe than any of the other races combined.
When a stranger rolls into town with trouble
on his heels, Aria finds herself trapped in the middle of a battle that could
cost her more than she has bargained for as a fight for justice turns into an
unexpected fight for her life.
Goodreads:
Buy links:
HTML iTunes Linke: <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/cursed-by-fire/id958444099?mt=11&uo=4" target="itunes_store">Cursed by Fire - Annett,
Danielle</a>
BN nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/cursed-by-fire-danielle-annett/1121069648?ean=2940046513417
GooglePlay: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Danielle_Annett_Cursed_by_Fire?id=AsQmBgAAQBAJ
Behind the scenes look at how
Cursed by Fire’s cover came to be:
Giveaway:
Print copy
of Cursed by Fire and 3 e-copies
Danielle Annett is a reader, writer, photographer, and the blogger behind Coffee and Characters. Born in the SF Bay area, she now resides in Spokane, WA, the primary location for her Blood & Magic series.
Addicted to coffee at an early age, she spends her restless nights putting pen to paper as she tries to get all of the stories out of her head before the dogs wake up the rest of the house and vye for her attention.
Excerpts
LONGER EXCERPT
(Beginning of Chapter 1)
All I saw was
blood. Blood soaked my hands and coated the walls. It stained the concrete
flooring of the abandoned warehouse and dripped from fixtures that hung from
the ceiling, trickling like a slow rain. My vision blurred as anguish filled
me. How could this have happened? How could I have been too late?
I stared down at the lifeless body of a child. A boy. Kneeling in a pool
of congealing blood, I ran my fingers through his chestnut hair, ignoring the
now-cool moisture seeping into the denim of my pants. His face was
unrecognizable. Gone was the child with the dimpled cheek and brilliant blue
eyes. Left behind was a mass of flesh and bone—a ruined body
drained of its life force at such a young age.
Reality snapped
like an elastic band, bringing me back to the present as I sat at my desk in
Sanborn Place. Ripped from the haunted memories of finding Daniel’s body.
The world was a
cruel place. It was a fact of life and even though I knew it was true, I still
had a hard time coming to terms with the atrocities people committed. The
cruelties that for some god-forsaken reason, people thought were okay. Staring
down at the wallet-sized photo now crumpled in my hands, I was greeted by a
crown of chestnut hair, bright blue eyes, a heart-shaped face, and a brilliant
smile; a single dimple on his left cheek. The face of an innocent
seven-year-old boy, cut down like he was little more than a calf brought to
slaughter. I found myself struggling to link the image of this smiling boy to
that of the ruined body I’d found less than forty-eight hours ago.
Inside, a small
part of me burned. My blood heated and a turbulent rage rolled through me, one
I had to fight to contain.
“Ari, you’ve got
to stop staring at the kid. He’s gone. Let it go,” I heard Mike say.
I couldn’t let it
go. I didn’t understand how he could either. I looked up from the photograph
and stared Mike straight in the eyes. He cringed but held my gaze.
“He was
seven-years-old, Mike,” I said through clenched teeth. “Seven!”
I shook my head,
the poor kid had barely lived, barely tasted what the world had to offer. I
take that back, he’d tasted too much of what the world could give and it had
cost him.
Ever since the
Awakening six years ago when all things that went bump in the night decided to
come out of the woodwork and play, safety had been tenuous at best and kids
like this, like seven-year-old Daniel Blackmore, were suffering the price.
Vampires,
shifters, mages, witches and many more creatures of the night so to speak had
seemingly popped out of nowhere, deciding they were ready to integrate
themselves into everyday, or night, society.
Daniel had been
abducted by a rogue vampire. I’d found his mangled body, broken and discarded
as if he were nothing more than a piece of trash and I was going to find the bastard
that had killed him and make him pay.
“Ari, I know what
you’re thinking and the answer is no.”
I looked Mike up and down. He was an older man
in his late forties with a streak of silver in his otherwise midnight colored
hair. The wrinkles around his eyes would lead you to believe he smiled a lot
but I knew better. Those lines were from his ever-present frown. Dressed in
black slacks and a grey button up shirt, his mid-section strained against the
buttons looking like they could pop off at any moment, likely taking someone’s
eye out in the process.
“I wasn’t asking
for your permission,” I told him, my gaze going back to the photo.
“I don’t give a
rat’s ass if you were asking. I’m telling you, Ari, let it go! You can’t help
him anymore. All you’ll end up doing is getting yourself hurt or worse, killed
for your trouble.”
That was the
problem with people who had lived through the Awakening. Their only concern was
self-preservation. Nothing else mattered. Well, screw that because this little
boy, he mattered. His life mattered and he deserved justice. I had scrubbed my
hands after finding his broken body but couldn’t scrub the stain his death left
on my soul.
I stood up from my
desk and grabbed my keys and daggers. I sheathed the twin blades on either side
of my waist, grabbed my leather jacket, and made a beeline for the door. Mike
crossed the room to intercept me, arms folded over his chest blocking my way.
“Move,” I bit out.
“No.”
“I can move you.”
“You can, but you
won’t.”
I ground my teeth
together. He was being ridiculous. This entire situation was ridiculous.
“Mike, this isn’t
some game. A little boy died. He died! Does that even matter to you? I couldn’t
live with myself if I let this one go.”
“What’s your plan,
Ari, you going to just storm into the coven and force them to tell you who did
it? They won’t tell you. They protect their own and you’re one person against
an entire Coven of bloodthirsty vampires. Even the kid’s parents know it’s a
lost cause. They’ve dropped the case and are focusing on burying their kid.
They’re coming to terms with his death. It’s over.”
I’d been hired by
Jessica Blackmore, Daniel’s mother, a little over two weeks ago to find her son
who’d gone missing one afternoon. He had been walking home from a friend’s,
only five houses down from his own, but never made it to the front door. She’d
thought it safe enough to allow him the small bit of independence but with
paranormals about, it was never truly safe.
Mike knows I’m
different. He knows I have pyrokinetic abilities and he knows I can take care
of myself. This wasn’t reason talking, this was him being overprotective.
Feeling the temperature in the room begin to rise I forced myself to inhale and
exhale slowly. Trying to calm down and keep my pyrokinesis locked up tight. It
wouldn’t help the situation to start a fire. All it would do is prove to Mike
that I wasn’t in control and right now I was in no mood for a lecture.
“Look, Ari, you’re
a mercenary. You take on a job when you have a client. There is no client so
there is no job. We’re not the police. We don’t try to clean up the streets or
bag the bad guys. We’re mercs.”
I couldn’t blame
him for his way of thinking. Hell, two weeks ago I would have said the same
thing, but this was different. He was just a kid and I couldn’t believe
everyone was so willing to leave his murderer out there.
“Why don’t—”
Mid-sentence I
heard the distinct buzz of a cell phone. Mike dug his phone out of his left
pocket and answered it without looking at the screen.
“Hello,” he said.
Mike’s face scrunched in confusion, a furrow forming between his brows. He
listened for several moments and then with a grunt he hung up and stared me
down. At six feet tall, he towered over me by a good five inches, but I didn’t
back down. Lifting my chin and giving him my best try me stare. The one I knew drove him crazy.
“Looks like you’re
getting exactly what you asked for,” he said.
“And what exactly
is that?”
“That was Declan
Valkenaar on the phone.”
Holy shit, the
Pack Alpha. What the hell was he doing calling Mike?
Q/A with Danielle
How did you come up with the
idea for this story?
I’m not entirely sure to tell
you the truth. I think when I decided I wanted to write something this story
just popped into my head because it was one I wanted to read myself. Overtime
it took shape and changed drastically but the idea itself more of less popped
in out of nowhere.
Where do you find your
inspiration?
I find my inspiration at the
Library. There is something entirely exciting about walking through a room
filled with books and looking at all of their covers that just inspires you to
write more.
Is there anything you find
particularly challenging in your writing?
Finding the time to write is
difficult. Between my day job, my blog, my home life and beautiful daughter, it
all adds up. Time is something I definitely wish I had more of.
What are your current
projects?
Currently I’m working on Book 2
in the Blood & Magic series, and a side PNR project that is just beginning
to take shape.
Tell us about your first book.
What would readers find different about the first one and your most recent
published work?
I don’t have any other
published works.
Is there a message in your
novel that you want readers to grasp?
Not particularly. If there is a
message in my book then it is coincidence. I’m a story telling and don’t really
look to add special messages in my writing but I do think Cursed by Fire may
have developed one, can you guess what it is?
Does music play any type of
role in your writing?
Music is HUGE. I tend to assign
a song to every scene. Music makes you feel something and I want my book to
make my readers feel something as well. Music for specific scenes allows me to
strive to draw that emotion into the scene.
Are experiences based on
someone you know, or events in your life?
No. Everything in Cursed by
Fire is entirely fictitious.
What books have influenced your
life most?
I feel like I should list the
classics here but truth be told, Urban Fantasy novels such as those by Ilona
Andrews and Patricia Briggs have inspired me to want to become a writer.
Additionally, On Writing by Stephan King has been an extremely helpful tool in
developing my craft.
Are there any new authors that
have grasp your interest?
Yes. ML Brennan is not
completely new but is newer and has caught my attention. Additionally, Sherry
Palmer who wrote Life with Charley. Something completely outside my genre scope
but so touching has grabbed my attention and held on tight.
Do you have anything specific
that you want to say to your readers?
I hope you love my story as
much as I loved writing it.
How can readers discover more
about you and your work?
Do you have a special time to
write? How is your day structured writing-wise?
So not structured at all. I fit
in time to write whenever I can. Sometimes I write all day and sometimes I
don’t write until the weekend rolls around, every day changes.
Why did you choose to write
[genre] stories?
I chose to write Urban Fantasy
because its what I enjoy reading most. There is something about fantasy
creatures living in todays society and dealing with everything it brings.
What is for you the perfect
book hero?
My perfect book hero is someone
you can relate to. Someone who goes above and beyond to help others but is not
all that extra ordinary. I want to feel like I can be that person.
When you start a book, do you
already have the whole story in your head or is it built progressively?
It starts progressively. I
typically outline first but even my outline changes as I go. Cursed by Fire
went through four different outline revisions and three major rewrites.
When and why did you begin
writing?
I began writing passively about
two years. I was just playing around with an idea and slowly it began to take
shape. Only within the last year have I taken my writing seriously though and
really buckled down to finish a book.
When did you first consider
yourself a writer?
That's tough, I suppose when I
typed THE END. That was when I felt accomplished enough to say, I’m a writer.
List three books you have
recently read and would recommend.
Magic Breaks by Ilona Andrews
The Kraken Kong by Meljean
Brook
Archangel’s Shadow by Nalini
Singh
Tell us something that people
would be surprised you know how to do.
I crochet. I feel like it is a
grandmotherly habit but I learned when I was young and recently finished a baby
blanket for my niece.
Will you write more about these
characters?
Yes. I have four books planned
so far for this particular series.
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