Spotlight
Anya Moon only has one personal rule: Don't date vampires. She never dreamed the price for breaking it could be her life.
In his five hundred years as an assassin, Jarrett Campbell has never gone beyond a one-night stand with a woman. As a vampire, he knows a lasting relationship with a Norm is out of the question. But Anya Moon is just too intriguing to pass up. A two-week fling can't hurt as long as they both know how it will end… right?
Caught up in a romance he never expected, Jarrett forgets that his life as an assassin is never safe... especially when one of his past targets returns from the dead. Now he is in a race against time to save Anya, but is her life worth his death?
Excerpt
I sidestepped the fist coming at my head and my opponent pitched forward, his balance off. I took advantage of the situation by slamming my own fist into his flabby gut. As he doubled over, he reached up and grabbed my thick, red ponytail, yanking me backwards.
Why was it always the hair? It never failed. It didn’t matter how big, buff, or macho the guy was, he always went for the hair. Biting my lip, I turned so my back was to him and let him pull me back until I could feel his hot, rank breath on my neck. Then I lifted my knee and kicked back as hard as I could. My aim was just right and my foot connected with soft flesh. It was a low blow, but then, so was hair pulling.
“Gah!” the sailor cried out, releasing my hair. I turned to see him fall to his knees, both hands cupping his nether region. I finished him off with a foot to the shoulder, sending him sprawling on his back. The small crowd around the makeshift ring cheered so loud they drowned the ref calling out the ten-count. I stood back, catching my breath. The ref was half way through the count when the sailor flipped onto his stomach, and then rose to his knees. By the time the count reached nine, the sailor was on both feet, if stumbling a bit.
Damn! That kick to his groin should have put him out. The ref stopped counting and the fight was back on.
I watched him, warily taking in every movement as he turned and glared at me. His face was bright red, rage radiating from him. Great. I pissed him off, and now I had a three-hundred-pound rage monster to contend with. The thought was barely complete when he charged at me, letting out a gruff, angry growl. With my back at the edge of the ring and the sailor’s arms outstretched on either side, there was nowhere for me to go to get out of his way. I did the only thing I could. I started running towards him and at the very last moment before our bodies collided, I dropped low and to the side. At the same time I stretched out my left leg, catching the sailor just above the ankle. He stumbled, his momentum sending his entire body airborne. For one long second he flew through the air, and then came crashing down face first several feet away.