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REDEMPTION
Book One Penton Legacy series
By Susannah Sandlin
Following a worldwide pandemic whose vaccine left human
blood deadly to vampires, the vampire community is on the verge of starvation
and panic. Some have fanned into rural areas, where the vaccine was less
prevalent, and are taking unsuspecting humans as blood slaves. Others are
simply starving, which for a vampire is worse than death—a raging hunger in a
creature too weak to feed.
Immune to these
struggles—at first—is Penton, a tiny community in rural Chambers County,
Alabama, an abandoned cotton mill town that has been repopulated by charismatic
vampire Aidan Murphy, his scathe of 50 vampires, and their willingly bonded humans.
Aidan has recruited his people carefully, believing in a peaceful community
where the humans are respected and the vampires retain a bit of their humanity.
But an unresolved family feud and the paranoia of the Vampire Tribunal descend on Penton in the form of Aidan’s brother, Owen Murphy. Owen has been issued a death warrant that can only be commuted if he destroys Penton—and Aidan, against whom he’s held a grudge since both were turned vampire in 17th-century Ireland. Owen begins a systematic attack on the town, first killing its doctor, then attacking one of Aidan’s own human familiars
To protect his people, Aidan is forced to go against his principles and kidnap an unvaccinated human doctor—and finds himself falling in love for the first time since the death of his wife in Ireland centuries ago.
Dr. Krystal Harris, forced into a world she never knew
existed, must face up to her own abusive past to learn if the feelings she’s
developing for her kidnapper are real—or just a warped, supernatural kind of
Stockholm Syndrome in which she’s allowing herself to become a victim yet
again.
Susannah Sandlin’s REDEMPTION is the
first in the Penton Legacy series. Book two, ABSOLUTION, will be out September
18, and book three, OMEGA, on December 18.
About
the Author:
Susannah Sandlin is the author of paranormal romance set in the
Deep South, where there are always things that go bump in the night! A
journalist by day, Susannah grew up in Alabama reading the gothic novels of
Susan Howatch, and always fancied herself living in Cornwall (although she’s
never actually been there). Details, details. She also is a fan of Stephen
King. The combination of Howatch and King probably explains a lot. Currently a
resident of Auburn, Alabama, Susannah has also lived in Illinois, Texas,
California, and Louisiana. Her novel Redemption won the paranormal romance
category in the 2011 Chicago North RWA Fire and Ice contest, and is the first
of three in a series that debuts this year.
Excerpt:
Krystal Harris pulled to the shoulder of the two-lane road—highway was
too grand a word—and punched the button to turn on the old green Corolla’s dome
light. She counted to five before thwacking it with the heel of her palm, and a
dim light blinked as if considering her demand. It stayed on—this time.
The car was a
dinosaur, but it was a paid-for dinosaur.
She dug a folded
Alabama road map from beneath her briefcase on the passenger seat, smoothing
the creases to make sure she hadn’t driven past Penton, which she suspected was
no more than a wide spot on a narrow road. She didn’t want to get lost out here
in the boonies.
Yep, County Road
70. The highway to Penton just looked like the express lane to nowhere.
A gust of wind
rocked the car, sending icy air around the loose door seals. Maybe the chill of
this night was an omen that she should take this job if they offered it, just
so she could buy a more respectable form of transportation. Still, doubts
nagged at her. What kind of clinic conducted a job interview at nine p.m.? She
should never have agreed to it, but the Penton Clinic administrator had waved
big bucks in front of her huge college and med school debts, and she’d trotted
after them like a donkey after a carrot.
“You had the
goody-two-shoes idea of practicing rural medicine, plus you’re already here,”
she chided herself, clicking off the overhead and pulling back onto the road.
“And you’ve gotta admit, this is rural.”
Another omen, and
not a good one: she was talking to herself. Out loud.
A couple of miles
later, her headlights illuminated a battered wooden sign covered in peeling
paint: Welcome to Penton, Alabama. Founded 1890. Population 3,275.
Twenty years ago,
maybe. Krys had done her Penton
homework, and that was the boomtown population, when the mammoth East Alabama
Mill still churned out threads and batting. It had wheezed its final belch a
decade ago, and the town had suffered a slow death by attrition even before the
pandemic. The most recent listing Krys found online estimated a population of
three hundred. She was surprised they could afford to hire a doctor, much less
pay a more-than-competitive wage.
But this was what
she wanted, right? A place to practice medicine and be her own boss, to find a
community where she could belong? After growing up in Birmingham—the wrong side
of Birmingham—she hated the grime and crowds and noise of the city.
Lost in thought as
she approached the outskirts of town, she thought she saw an animal in the
road—a deer or a bear, maybe—God only knew what wildlife lived out here. But it
was a man. He wore a long coat that flapped in the wind and was backlit by a
lone streetlight in front of an abandoned convenience store. She’d have blown
past him if he hadn’t moved into the middle of the road when the glare of her
headlights hit him like a spotlight.
He stood with his
hands in his pockets, feet planted apart, watching calmly as she floored the
brakes. The Corolla’s old tires squealed, stinking up the air with the smell of
hot rubber and stressed brakes.
Good Lord. Was he
nuts?
She got the car
stopped and took a deep breath, hands frozen to the wheel, her muscles jittery
from the aftershock. The man walked around and tapped on her driver’s side
window, motioning for her to lower it.
Krys’s foot
hovered over the accelerator, indecisive. Should she drive on and get the hell
out of here?
No, by God, she
should not. She’d at least lower the window enough to tell the jerk how close
he’d come to ending his life as a hood ornament on a green Toyota Dinosaur.
He held up his
empty hands in a gesture of peace. Right. Like he was going to hold up a sign
that said Beware of Murderous Backwoods Whack Job.
She snaked her
right hand to her purse in the passenger seat, wrapped cold fingers around the
handle of a small pistol, and slipped it into the pocket of her suede jacket—after
she was sure the man had seen it. The .38 Smith & Wesson snub-nose was her
security blanket, and she knew how to use it.
His only reaction
to the gun was a raised eyebrow. “I have a man injured here.” His voice was
deep and melodic, and he had a trace of an accent, as if he’d grown up not
speaking English but had been around a few too many Southerners. “You the
doctor coming to Penton for the interview?”
She lowered her
window an inch and stared as he knelt next to the driver’s side door, putting
his face at eye level. And damned if it wasn’t one of the most beautiful faces
she’d seen since…maybe ever.
He’d pulled his
dark hair into a short ponytail except for one wavy strand that had pulled
loose and blew against his cheek. The streetlight cast enough illumination for
her to see the dark lashes fringing blue eyes that reminded her not so much of
summer skies or robin’s eggs but of the richness of an arctic sea flowing over
darker depths. They appeared to lighten as he studied her with an intensity
that almost robbed her lungs of air. He had a strong jaw, full lips, and a
slight cleft in his chin.
If he was a serial
killer, he was at least a pretty one.
He cleared his
throat. “Are you Dr. Harris?”
Krys caught her
breath. Good Lord, what was wrong with her? She’d been practically drooling
through a half-open window as though he were Adonis personified. He could be
Charles Manson’s separated-at-birth, unidentical twin.
Except he knew her
name.
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product or book may have been distributed for review; this in no way affects my
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