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.
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.
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.Website/Blog: http://www.susannahsandlin.com
Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/susannahsandlin
Indie
Bound: http://www.indiebound.org/book/9781612183541
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