Choices, choices…should Marissa Engles choose the Night Numen, her soul bound deadly lover who walks among demons and commands the darkness, or the Stealth Numen, the trained assassin who slips between her world and the Shadowlands? They’re yummy lovers and alpha males, the baddest of the bad. She shares a potent, psychic, mind to mind connection with the Night Numen. The Stealth Numen makes her feel like a teenager. So they could just as easily kill her in a heartbeat? They both love her, right? These are the thoughts that occupy her waking hours.
Meanwhile, she’s training to go on a deadly, suspense-filled, dangerous journey in a place where Earth rules don’t apply. She needs to find the three sisters who forged her sword, and retrieve a piece of her soul. No-one has lived to tell about. She’s extremely powerful but still hasn’t attained mastery of her skills. She hopes she’ll be able to pull it together when it counts.
Just when she thinks she’s made progress, another alpha male drops into her world, challenging her assumptions about love. Will she make the right choice? And what about the ruthless sorcerer who wants to thwart her at every turn? Suspense, mystery, challenges, sizzling encounters and endless opportunities are ahead when Marissa faces The Beckoning of BadAss Things.
The Beckoning of BadAss Things, excerpts:
I know the width of my outstretched hand.” I stoop before the top of the tree
and measure off an approximation of the required amount. I pick up a wood chip
and place it on the tree to mark my chosen guide, stand back, retrieve my sword
and power it on. This time, when I direct the light, it pings against the wood,
barely nicks it and sputters, like I’m using a dull blade. “How odd.” I try
again. Same thing. “Maybe it needs more juice. What do you think, Sober?”
system, direct it out the glistening tip and this time, the top of the tree
explodes. Both dogs yip and jump away. “Shit! Gah!” My head whips around to
stare in the direction of the house. I sure hope Tom and Daniel aren’t in the
yard, watching. I don’t see them anywhere so I turn back to the tree.
of wood used to be. “Now there’s my problem,” I say. “Too much energy. I need
to control it more. I’m always, all, ‘let’s let er rip’, Engles. ‘Don’t hold
back from free expression.’ ‘Death to suppression.’” I tick off catch-phrases I
used to guide my life as an artist. “Well, this
time,” I say to my sparkling canine, “we’re going to learn to contain all
this wonderful life force and use it the way I want to use it.”
has informed me that we have a situation to deal with once we reach the Shadow
Lands. My father,” he says, his lip curling in disgust, “is no longer in a
coma, apparently not incapacitated either. He’s gathered his evil allies to
take Marissa down, and the rest of us, no doubt, as collateral damage.”
pressing his lips into a crisp line.
here. They’ve formed a coalition called Guerreros del diablo – the devil’s
warriors. They’ve splintered off from the Numina. They’re not allowed in the
ether meetings anymore but Tom thinks they have a mole planted on the inside.”
got our orders to accompany you to find the sisters. After I contacted him, he
made a few calls and that’s all he could discern. He’s busy gathering data as we
speak.” He glances at his Movado wristwatch. “We have to meet him in the garden
at about twenty after. We’ll have a brief ether meeting to hear what he’s
says. “See what they know.”
and draws it up the inside, slowly, deliberately. “We’ve got to keep this woman
environment. “Birds flutter from tree to tree, twittering and chirping in a
crazy chorus of reverberating songs, landing on branches and melting like wax,
oozing into stains of color like Marissa’s paints. Nests appear, filled with
eggs, where the birds once stood. Miniscule beaks break free from shells and
baby birds appear, chirping insistently with their mouths open. Adult birds
land, feed them, and the baby birds become fledgling adults, spreading their
wings. Meanwhile flowers bloom, wither and die, seeds spread in the wind, fall
in the soil and sprout once more. I’d say that’s fucked up.”
the three males transforms into icy winds, blizzards, pouring rains, summer
showers, baking heat and fall colors.
“And who says I live here?”
you,” I say, after a second’s hesitation.
sides, not quite ticklish, causing me to pull away. “I want you to trust me
with your life.”
does he want from me?
flows. I sense its movement, erupting from my core, a wash of crackling blue
and white lightning that streams through my spine and limbs, making me feel
powerfully alive. “Like this? Is this what you want?”
tracing my ribcage, the hollows of my underarms, the sensitive skin of my inner
arm, until he’s lacing his fingers with mine. His strong body is poised over
me, hot, sexy, his breath landing on my cheeks, warm and moist. “I want you to
trust me,” he repeats. He releases my hands and drags his fingertips along my
wrists, stroking gently, deliberately, as if shaping and guiding my light.
together, bound tightly by filaments of light. The light buzzes and crackles,
producing a slightly disturbing sensation in my wrists. “What’s this?” I say, a
short laugh bursting from my throat. “I can just slip free from this, you
like quicksilver. “No,” he says. “You can’t.”
thing he does – since we’re soul bound, he can combine energy with mine and use
it in ways I never dreamed. I tug and pull against my magnetic restraints.
Nothing. “Okay, so maybe I can’t in this second. I’ll figure it out,” I say
he’s the conductor of the Philharmonic Orchestra.
scramble to keep up with my arms as they’re tugged, firmly bound, heading
toward the ceiling.
Sober Dober barking at a face poking out from a rock. “Great, dog, you’re
losing it, I already lost it. What a pair we are.” I
stomp to him prepared to grab his collar and haul him away from the illusion.
“This is a fantasy. We’re sharing the fantasy, but it’s not real,” I tell him,
glancing at the gray and brown-eyed, bulbous nosed, chapped lips apparition.
“Look.” I place my hand over the face, expecting to find rock, only to find
warm flesh, accompanied by a slippery, pointy tongue licking the center of my palm.
I leap back in surprise.
revealing spiky yellow teeth.
jumpsuit. “Now the illusions are talking back. Sober, we’ve got to find food.”
heard frequent praise for her writing, as well as her sense of humor. Scoffing
at such admonitions and praise, she went on to pursue her life of adventure,
chock full of the things that make up a well-rounded adventurous life: music
(yup, she was a singer in a rock and roll band), dance (even performed hip hop
in Russia), rock climbing (ever hung from a rock wall a few stories up?
Yikes!), fire walking (taught high-ranking Moscow fire officials how to walk
the coals), kayaking, scuba diving (she’s in love with sharks), travel, and
falling in love again and again.
and her two cats, she has now chosen to put fingers to keyboard and write –
when she’s not in pursuit of another adventure!
Calinda B has worked in the world of computers and technology for a long time.
Before that she worked in the world of health and fitness, as well as art.
Throughout her career she has relied on her writing abilities to write
articles, ad copy and web content.