What inspired you to write your first book?I’ve written stories since I learned to write. As a child, I wrote stories of faries, unicorns, demons, vampires, witches, and other paranormal creatures for my friends, family for birthdays, Christmas --that kind of thing. Back then, yeah, I was that strange kid with an over active imagination. But as they say, life happens while you make plans, making a living intervened. After being downsized from my IT job of 14 years, my hubby and I decided it was time to follow my dreams. Shortly there after, I was getting my hair cut and playing the “What If” game with my hairdresser. It went something like this:
What if the hairdresser is really a ruggedly handsome demon overlord? What if a powerful witch breezed into his salon and the attraction was undeniable? What if the salon is multi-species catering to mortals and paranormal creatures alike is located in Washington DC? What if portals to the underworld were in places you frequent every day? Adds a new dimension to our concept of DC, doesn’t it? My debut novel, A Demon’s Witch, was born in a hair salon from a song
Stefan is a Native American vampire, former assassin for the Vampire Council. In a twist of fate, he now DJ’s the midnight shift for a small radio station in Whitefish, Montana, on the edge of Glacier National Park where his secret is safe until...
Born in Ireland, Brandy now works as a park ranger and trail guide in the park. During a full moon, Stefan and Brandy’s paths cross in a near physical collision on a trail. Their attraction is immediate and undeniable, almost as if fate demanded it.
Their union was foretold long ago in Irish folk tales where vampires and gryphons, warlocks and demons, witches and faeries must work together for the good of man and magic kind. Is a trip to Ireland the key to unravelling secrets and returning the magic? And even more importantly, will their love survive the trip?EXCERPT:
It was nearly midnight when he cut across the Sun Road to another trailhead, so intent on his goal that he nearly collided with an attractive young woman. He skidded to a stop, spraying gravel, rocks, and small twigs down the road in front of him. A pinecone dislodged and bounced along the road past her. Tall and slender, she had miles of fiery-red hair that hung down her back in a cascade of curls. Intense emerald eyes stared back at him as he attempted to regain his composure, not to mention balance. What the hell was she doing here at this time of night?
“Whoa.” She stepped lightly to the side to avoid the flying debris. “You really should watch where you’re going, especially at that speed.” Her voice scolded, but the smile on her lips teased. “Someone could get hurt.”
Stefan Talltree, at your service.” He stepped closer, leaned over in an exaggerated bow, and caught her hand, brushing his lips over the palm and wrist, inhaling her sweet scent. AB negative with a pulse of adrenaline. Perfect. Her pulse beat a tattoo against his lips. He backed away.
Her heart thundered as she drew her hand from his grasp. “The name’s Brandy. Pleased to meet you, Stefan.” Her smile reached up into her bright eyes as they swept over him with an appreciative glance, an experience he enjoyed.
Her voice had a hint of Irish lilt to it. He liked that too.
“Where do you work that requires you to report in at—” She glanced at her watch. “—midnight?”
Nostrils flaring, he paused. Blood? Not hers. The sound of Brandy’s voice brought his attention back to her and the situation at hand. “Oh, shit, I’ve gotta go!” He sprinted off, leaving her standing alone.
As he started down the trail, the tree branches swayed in the silvery moonlight, casting eerie shadows across the trail’s edge. The breeze brought with it the coppery scent of fresh blood mixed with sulfur. He turned for one last look at her as she wrinkled her nose before silently creeping into the wind, tracking the source of the stench.
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