Thursday, August 2, 2018

Count with the Count...By Ripley Proserpina



On Wednesday, August 1st, I will published the final book in my vampire series, Midnight's Crown.

Finishing a series is bitter sweet, but it's mostly nerve-wracking as I hope (fingers crossed, toes crossed, hair braided) that people are happy with the conclusion. Endings are tough, man, and I'm suddenly feeling guilty for all the complaining I've done about other endings (though, I still feel like Jo March and Laurie should have ended up together in Little Women. I won't apologize for that).

Anyhoo.... here is the blurb and a little tidbit bit for you!



Slowly, Briar climbed the stairs toward the door. She wanted to fly up them, rip the door off the hinges and bury her face in the source of the scent, but she was afraid. 

At the top step, her energy drained away and she fell to her knees. Hollowed out, she couldn’t knock, couldn’t call out. Her body was a desiccated shell. 

Help. She couldn’t push the words past her swollen throat. Exhausted, Briar let her head fall to her knees. Marcus. Valen. Sylvain. Hudson. Find me. 

As if they’d heard her, the door opened. Warm light and the scent of them filled the night. It took every bit of energy she had, but she tipped her head back until she could meet their beautiful eyes. 

She almost didn’t recognize them. Their faces were bleak, devoid of expression with eyes as empty as she felt inside, but when they saw her, they changed. 

Disbelief. 

Confusion. 

Hope. 

Briar wanted to wrap them in her arms, but she couldn’t move. She was weighed down with something that made movement impossible. If she didn’t fill up and slake this thirst, she’d die. 

Again. 

She swallowed hard. With the last bit of energy she had, she whispered, “Marcus. I’m thirsty.” 

Marcus moved fast. She remembered a time when she wouldn’t have been able to track his movement, but now she could. He reached over Sylvain, sweeping her into his arms. He buried his face in her neck and breathed her in. “Briar. Briar. Oh, God.” 

They rushed into the living room, but he didn’t let her go. The others crowded around her. Hudson knelt by her, pushed back her hair, and studied her face. “You’re alive.” His voice broke, and his icy-blue eyes filled with pain. “How are you alive?” 

She’d lost her voice, used up the last of it speaking to Marcus, so she shook her head. She kept her hand wrapped around her throat as if it would ease the ache, and Hudson’s eyes widened. 

“Marcus. Blood,” he whispered. 



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