Today we're celebrating the recent release of Sheri Queen's Bounty Huntress, the first in the Sleepy Hollow Hunter series.
Janda Gray’s a Lykoi—part werecat,
part wolf—shunned by both sides of her lineage.
She yearns for the day when she can escape the disdainful
glances and leave her home on the outskirts of Sleepy Hollow, NY. When she
lands a lucrative bounty hunter contract, she thinks her life is finally
turning around. All she has to do is lure her werecat target from the safety of
the Hotel Paranormal.
Then she meets a werepanther. Her
life will never be the same.
Alexander Holden, second-in-command of a powerful werecat
clan, is accused of murdering the woman he was to marry. He must find the real
killer to clear his name or spend the rest of his supernaturally long life on
the run.
Complications arise after Janda falls
for the man she’s supposed to be capturing.
Now she must decide if following her heart is worth risking
everything, including the love they’ve found in each other’s embrace.
Love is about making sacrifices.
Saving him is all that matters.
Bounty Huntress is the introduction to the Sleepy Hollow
Hunter series.
It
is also a Hotel Paranormal story.
The
Hotel Paranormal is THE place for supernatural beings looking to get away from
it all. Beings like werewolves, vampires, elves, sprites, djinn and more check
in from all over the world for business and for pleasure—and sometimes for
both.
http://www.thehotelparanormal.com
"A beautifully descriptive,
fast-paced tale full of paranormal twists and turns with a dash of romantic
heat." ~ Traci Douglass, USA Today Bestselling Author
"Thanks to Sheri Queen's smooth, immersive style and her penchant for
interesting characters, you'll not only want to follow Janda Gray into the
Hotel Paranormal, but will soon be clamoring for your own magical room
key." ~Heidi Ruby Miller, award-winning author of the Ambasadora series
Excerpt:
Half a block stood between me and my future
happiness, but it might as well have been a mile for all the good it would do
me. From the alley to the bar there was no cover, no shadows to absorb my
presence. I’d scoured the surrounding area for another entry point to no avail.
Barred windows and a padlocked backdoor thwarted me. I had one shot at getting
inside before anyone could stop me, and that meant waiting until the barkeep
kicked the last of his patrons out at closing time. While they were busy
getting on their bikes, I’d make a mad dash to the front door. I was grateful
the street was deserted at this hour, but it was almost too quiet. One stupid
move on my part could mean disaster.
I calculated the distance from where I stood,
hidden in the alley, to the bar’s entrance and figured I’d probably be fast
enough to make it as long as the wolves were so drunk they wouldn’t notice me
until it was too late. It was a long shot, but the only one I had. Wolves were
quick, even inebriated ones. Their metabolism burned off alcohol within minutes
of downing it, which meant my window of opportunity was about the size of a
mouse hole. In my Lykoi state I was faster than a wolf—I’d honed that
particular skill long ago with all the times I’d been chased—but I couldn’t go
Lykoi. Paws didn’t lend themselves to turning doorknobs, so I’d have to do this
the hard way. Nothing new there.
I leaned against the brick wall and let the
cool autumn air soothe my restless body. My calf muscles twitched, and my
stomach rumbled. It was tempting to give in to the urge to transform and run
through the woods I’d passed on the way into town. Maybe even hunt a bit of
rabbit. I let out a slow breath and resisted my primal desires.
I counted four bikes outside the bar. Mutther’s
might be a neutral, no-colors establishment, but I still had to get past the
owners of those bikes. Four big-ass obstacles between me and the portal to the
Hotel Paranormal. I knew portals existed in most major cities—definitely in
Manhattan—but, of course, my only way into the hotel would be through a wolf
biker bar. My luck ranged from bad to stinking bad. I was long overdue for a
bit of good luck, but I didn’t look for that to happen tonight. My usual mode
of blending into the background to avoid attracting attention wasn’t going to
work here. There were no crowds to lose myself in, and the glaring neon sign
covering three quarters of the bar’s facade was a beacon spreading a swath of
red across the sidewalk. Anyone wishing to enter the bar would be doused in
light. This had to be the hotel’s idea of a joke—or a test.
Sheri Queen received
her MFA in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University. She grew up in
the Hudson Valley region of New York—an area she loves to depict as a backdrop
for her stories—and enjoys traveling to new places where she is constantly
discovering inspirations for her writing. In particular, she loves visiting old
graveyards.
You can follow the
author at:
Twitter:
@SWQueenFlemming
