Violet
Night, #1
ISBN:
9781937254810
Let
the Hunt begin….
Blending
in with her college co-eds proves difficult for vampire Hunter, Emma
Martin, considering the mystical tattoo on her wrist glows whenever
Vamps are near. And after three months of silence, the glow is back
with a vengeance.
Jake
Cunningham witnesses Emma, a violet-eyed beauty, using unimaginable
powers to fight off a fanged creature. Finally, after two years of
searching, he may have found out what he’s become—a Hunter, like
Emma.
Thankful
for an ally in the fight against the Vamps, Emma finds hope and
comfort in Jake’s arms. As she learns more about her new love’s
family and its dark heritage, she may be forced not only to hunt them
but to sacrifice her life to save Jake’s soul.
“Rush
hooked me from page one! Fast-paced, gripping, this tale of vampire
hunters is full of action and suspense. A great read! Buffy had
better watch out…Emma Martin is one hunter to watch!” -Cynthia
Eden, National Best-selling
Author
***A
portion of all proceeds benefits cancer research and awareness***
Driven
to write, Lynn Rush often sees her characters by closing her eyes
watching their story unfold in her mind. Lynn Rush is a pen name that
is a combination of two sources – Lynn, the first name of her
mother-in-law, who passed away and Rush – since the author is a
former inline speed skater and mountain biker. All of Rush’s books
are dedicated to Lynn, her namesake, and a portion of the proceeds
benefits cancer research and awareness.
Rush holds a
degree in psychology from Southwest Minnesota State University and a
master's degree from the University of Iowa. Originally from
Minneapolis, Rush currently enjoys living in the Arizona sunshine by
road biking nearly 100 miles per week with her husband of 16 years
and jogging with her two loveable Shetland Sheep dogs.
Connect
with Lynn online
EXCERPT
“What am I? You mean what sorority am I? Or—”
“No.” Jake crept forward until only three feet separated them. “I
mean, what are you? Those three men…whatever they were—”
Emma let out the loudest, hopefully believable, fake laugh she could
muster considering the circumstances. He’d seen everything.
Mind-wipe time.
“They were just drunk dudes, knocked me in—”
“No they weren’t. Look. It’s okay. I—things—I understand
different.” Jake eyed the partially closed door across the room.
“You can trust me.”
Emma huffed. Trust. Yeah, right. Two years ago, almost to the day,
her life went bonkers. Strange things happened to her after the crash
that killed her parents. She trusted no one, let alone a total and
complete stranger.
No matter how drawn to him she felt.
He seized her wrist before she’d even registered he’d moved. Too
distracted by his dominating presence in the small room.
She tugged at his grip, but he held fast.
Wait—was that warmth? He cuffed her wrist with his strong, able
fingers. The same fingers that had caressed her spine so gently as
she coughed half the pool from her lungs.
Damn water.
She hadn’t noticed any heat then, or when he had held her neck,
maybe because of wet clothes and hair. But now, there was no
clothing, no water to obstruct the direct skin-to-skin contact. It
sent a dizzying heat up her forearm, over her shoulder and straight
to her chest.
She’d not felt warmth—any fluctuation in temperature—in two
years. Her lungs tightened, forcing her to take small gasps for air.
God she missed heat. She missed cuddling. Missed human touch.
And he wasn’t even asking about her cold skin.
Probably assumed it was from the water. Didn’t matter. She let the
tension roll out into his grip and absorbed the sensual feelings
penetrating her barriers. Just for a minute.
“Interesting tattoo.” He turned her hand, exposing her wrist.
Damn, she’d lost her watch in the water!
He stood so close his breath whispered against her cheek. How could
she smell a heady, earthy scent emanating from him through the
chlorine saturating his clothing and hair?
“Does it mean something?” he asked.
Emma shook her head, too lost in his touch heating her blood to
verbalize a response. Not that she’d tell him it identified her as
a Hunter, a protector with kick-ass powers. Or that it appeared on
her skin overnight, while she lay in a hospital bed after the crash
two years ago.
With his free hand, he traced the arrow, and Emma’s legs morphed
into wet noodles. She leaned against the desk, not having realized
she’d backed up so far. Thankfully she had, because it kept her
vertical.
What was happening to her?
His finger followed the pulsing blue vein to the crook of her elbow,
up her arm until his hand cupped her shoulder, all the while, he held
her wrist tight with his other hand. His already nearly black eyes
darkened as the pupils ate up the dark irises. His gaze shifted, and
his tongue moistened his plump, completely lickable bottom lip.
The heat that’d ignited in her heart suddenly pooled in her
belly—very low in her belly.
He leaned forward, mouth only inches from hers. Even his breath on
her lips was warm. Amazing. How could she feel warmth with his touch
when she couldn’t with any other person?
Need more.
“I saw how strong you were. How you fought them off.” He stepped
into her. “And this tattoo. I’ve seen it before.”
Oh, God.
“It’s a symbol of power. Apollo and Artemis.” His voice went
husky.
“How do you know that?”
“I know a lot, Emma.” His hand followed the curve of her shoulder
until he caressed the nape of her neck. “Why’d you pick this mark
to put on your skin?”
A wave of heat stormed through her. “I didn’t choose it.” Emma
licked her lips in anticipation. “Woke up with it two years ago.”
She stretched toward him, and the softest, warmest lips met hers. He
tensed, probably at the cool temperature of her skin, but she didn’t
care. She only craved his warmth. His touch.
So long she’d been without.
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