Soul Thing
The Game of Gods
Book One
Lana Pecherczyk
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Prism Press
Date of Publication: 20th February 2018
ASIN: B079FM8BF3
Number of pages: 379
Word Count: 101,989
Cover Artist: Lana Pecherczyk
Tagline: Evolution is the Game, Witches are the Glitch
Book Description:
After a decade long war, witches have been obliterated, or so the world thinks. A precarious peace settles and, for the small town of Margaret River, life returns to normal, but for Roo, the hard work is just beginning.
Roo works at the local bar, is a little facetious and can’t wait to high-tail it out of there to keep her powers secret. She’s not certain where they came from but the last thing she wants is to be burned at the stake. Hiding in plain sight seems to work until Cash, a darkly handsome hunter, arrives with disaster in his wake. Witches aren’t defeated, only hidden, and there’s one gunning for Roo and her family. The recent war only touched the surface of the preternatural world and with Cash’s help, Roo learns there are worse things that go bump in the night... and she might be one of them.
Soon she must make a choice—risk exposure to save her loved ones, or remain hidden and safe. But sometimes safe isn’t an option. Sometimes safe is a never-ending game.
Excerpt
# 2 (995 Words) From Chapter 4
I surveyed the
bar to see if I had time to get away and speak to my friend. The customers were
happy, the kitchen crew had either gone home or were enjoying themselves on the
dance floor, and Alvin swept up a broken bottle under a restaurant table. The
back room would be empty. I pushed past the swinging doors to join Kitty, but
almost smacked into her. Her full ice bucket connected with my shin. Ouch!
I opened my
mouth to curse, but stopped when I noticed her face. She stared at something
past my shoulder and momentarily lost her careful composure and seductress
persona. “Hubba hubba. I think I need to go to confession,” she said.
“Why?” I tried
to turn around, but she held me back.
“Don’t look,”
she squeaked, then coughed delicately and lowered her voice to a raspy husk.
“Because I’m having sinful thoughts about melting this ice over that devilishly
hot body. He’s certainly not from around here.” She shoved the bucket into my
hands and pushed me backwards so she had room to stumble past. Recovering with
a sashay and a saunter, she made her way to the counter where a tall, tanned
man stood.
I wouldn’t
exactly call him devilish. He was blonde—are devils blonde? His short hair was
impeccably groomed and styled at the top, the kind of way that took hours to
make it look like it took minutes. His stubble was perfectly trimmed—a designer
five o’clock shadow. The only devilish thing about him was the full arm tattoo
peeking out from under his crisp, white shirt sleeve on one side. It also
showed slightly higher up over his collared neck. Everything about him screamed
money, control and influence. Except the ink. That screamed something else.
His lips
twitched at the corner, and I narrowed my eyes. What was he smiling at? Had he
heard Kitty’s words through the haze of sound?
“Oh, give me a
break,” I mumbled and went cross-eyed. Kitty had found another conquest, and
that left me lugging the heavy load. She was a predator, that woman, I swear. I
stumbled over to the ice trough, dropped half the ice on the floor and almost
slipped to land on my butt. “Seriously?” I hissed to the ice.
I glanced over
my shoulder and spotted Kitty heading back in my direction. Her face was
contorted into an expression I could only describe as horrified or mortified,
or maybe constipated. I smirked, then caught myself, breathed in deeply and
tried again. I gave her my best sincere smile.
“He called me
Ma’am,” she said, and took the empty bucket from my hands. “How dare he? I am
not a Ma’am. I’m a sexy, young, successful, independent woman who—” She stopped
mid-sentence and looked at me, green eyes blazing. “Well, he asked for you,
didn’t he?”
“What? I don’t
know him.” I snatched the bucket back.
“He asked for
you by name. Don’t be shy, your rudeness is keeping the customer waiting.” She
pushed me in the direction of the blue-eyed stranger, making an embarrassing
show of my reluctance. “I have to perform soon anyway,” she said as if she had
better things to do. “Just keep an eye on the bar while I put my game face on.”
She gave me one
last shove and sauntered out back.
Her push sent me
flying, and I tripped over my feet to land in front of the stranger with a
humph. To make matters worse, the music paused between songs and I yelled, “Can
I help you?”
Heat rose to my
cheeks in the silence and I imagined my whole face painted red. The music
started, and I looked down at my feet, took a deep breath and started again.
When I caught his eyes, words fled. They were different—one as clear as the
deep blue ocean, the other also blue, but spliced with muddy clouds in the
turbulent water. It was as though each eye belonged to a different person. I
almost sighed like a school girl. They were amazing. Simply amazing and his
dark lashes were full and framed the masterpiece within perfectly. Hang on. I
squinted, they looked vaguely familiar.
“La Roux?” He
pronounced my name correctly. Maybe he was French, like my name.
I cleared my
throat. “Yes, do I know you?”
“No, but you
know my brother, Tommy. He told me to look you up when I arrived.” His voice
was smooth and hypnotic—a dangerous combination with those eyes.
Wowsers, this
was Cash? His neat and trim exterior wasn’t at all what I expected for a beach
bum, although his well-toned physique was. I stared like a loser for a minute.
Something didn’t add up, and it wasn’t the fact he wore fancy leather loafers
in country Western Australia. No, it was because he used my full name. Nobody
did that. I’d worked hard for people to forget who I’d been in the city—the
girl feared and hated for almost being a witch. My hand fluttered to my collar
in a nervous reaction and his gaze flicked down too.
“How did you
know my full name?” I asked. The mild panic must have crept into my eyes
because he took a step backwards. “Everyone here calls me Roo.”
He scrubbed the
back of his neck and then scanned the room like he had somewhere welled to be.
“Tommy told me. Look, can I get a drink? Whisky, if it’s not too much to ask?”
Jeez, I was just
asking, no need to get grumpy. I glared at him while I pulled a glass from the
drying rack and placed it on the counter. He was full of inconsistencies—his
accent, for one. It was almost non-existent and, apart from saying my name like
he was French, his language was without a pattern or distinguishing lilt that
pointed to his origin. He could’ve hailed from anywhere.
6 Chapter Excerpt Available from
Instafreebie until March 3rd 2018
About the Author:
Lana Pecherczyk is a freckle-faced writer from Perth, Western Australia. She’s a fan of 'pro-caffeinating' and writes in Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance. Basically if it’s got sexy heroes, thrilling action and a kick-ass heroine, you know she’ll write it because she loves reading it.
When she’s not writing the next great novel, or wrangling the rug rats, or rescuing GI Joe from the jaws of her Kelpie, she fights evil by moonlight, wins love by daylight and never runs from a real fight.
You can find her books on Amazon and other good online retailers.
FACEBOOK: http://www.facebook.com/authorzoo
TWITTER: http://twitter.com/lansi26
INSTAGRAM: http://instagram.com/lansi
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