Top five favorite people.
Sheri – my ex-wife
Sheri – my ex-wife
Sheri – my ex-wife
Sheri – my ex-wife
Jakar – my loyal first lieutenant
Top five least favorite people.
Noeh – the Stiyaha king, my bitter enemy.
Demir – the Panthera Pride leader, although he and I have some fun together before all is said and done.
Aramie – that Panthera female put a target on my back after I killed her sister—eh, comes with the territory.
Ashton – the male that changed me from human to Gossum. If I could turn back time…
Zedron – the god I serve in this war against the Lemurians. I could do without his visits.
Top five favorite foods.
Smirnoff’s vodka
Beer
My body requires nothing else.
Top five movies.
The Shining
Underworld
Night of the Living Dead
Halloween
Ghost – I’m a sap for Demi Moore.
Blurb:
A World at War…
Shape-shifting Lemurian warriors battle against a deceptive, ruthless enemy in the dark of night. The prize—Earth’s most precious resource—water, and the fate of humankind.
A reckless commander…
Panthera leader Demir is stricken by the enemy’s dart and trapped in his fevered, haunted mind with only the memories of his brutal, violent past and his lost mate. When Aramie, his second in command, takes control of the Pride, she breaks one of the revered laws in her quest for the sacred blue sunstone—Demir’s only chance at life. His duty and honor force him to impose punishment despite his unbidden desire to claim her as his mate.
A hardened warrior…
Battle hardened Aramie is strong and determined—she will never bow to the Panthera mating ritual and sacrifice her independence. Instead, her deeply buried feelings for Demir drive her to a dangerous quest and rash decisions. With grief fueling her anger, she takes on a solo mission for revenge, and when Demir’s life is on the line, she must decide—submit to him as his mate, or lose him forever.
Author bio:
After finishing a rewarding career in finance and accounting, it was time for Rosalie Redd to put away the spreadsheets and take out the word processor. She writes Fantasy/Science Fiction Romance inspired by classics from the science fiction, fantasy, and horror genres layered with a good, hot dose of romance.
She lives in Oregon, where rain is just another excuse to keep writing. When not at her computer, you can find her at Jazzercise, waterfall collecting in the Pacific Northwest, or relaxing with her husband and their pesky cat, Snookums.
Author links:
Book links:
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01CIZMJDK/
http://www.amazon.com.au/gp/product/B01CIZMJDK/
http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01CIZMJDK/
https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id1090321710
https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/untamable-lover
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/untamable-lover-rosalie-redd/1123489253
Excerpt from Untamable Lover:
Ram grimaced as the stairs groaned under his new, red high-tops. It was as if the steps were aware evil invaded the old farmhouse. The squeak of his soles was a reminder of Noeh, their battle, and Ram’s little tumble into the river.
“That bastard king just won’t die,” he muttered.
Shaking himself, he focused on the old wooden door. He peered through the glass panes, the edges coated with the remnants of too many bad paint jobs. The white house was so not like his dark personality and that would do fine to camouflage their new lair.
He twisted the knob and opened the door. The smell of bacon and stale cigarettes infiltrated his sensitive nose. He gagged and placed a hand over his mouth. “Open a window.”
Inside, a Formica table stood in the middle of the neglected kitchen. Steel-framed chairs with cheap plastic cushions surrounded the small eating place. Over the large sink, pink floral print curtains covered the window. Decoupage pictures of peppers, cucumbers, and melons lined the walls, adding to the country flair. The faint scent of grass and manure from the nearby pasture completed the sense of happy, happy, home, home.
Ram glared at Jakar, his first lieutenant. The male stood still at the bottom of the stairs, his hands clasped in front of him. Jakar had secured this place while Ram had been out of it, healing from his battle wounds. Ram touched the scar that ran along the center of his chest and flinched. The disfigurement would remain a constant reminder of his failure to defeat Noeh, the Stiyaha king.
Ram raised a hairless eyebrow. “A farmhouse—not my first choice, but this could work.”
“You need to see the basement.” Sunglasses covered Jakar’s eyes, but the slight lift to his mouth gave away his eagerness.
“Are there fluffy kittens and baby chicks down there?” Surely, this country comfort couldn’t get much worse.
Jakar walked up the stairs, his hand extended in an invitation. “Please, take a look around, then I’ll show you the prize jewel—the basement.”
Ram walked into the kitchen, past the large living room, and evaluated each of the three bedrooms. A stack of boxes labeled “Smirnoff’s” sat in the far corner of the last room. Alcohol was all his body or any of the Gossum needed to survive. His favorite—the hard stuff, vodka in particular. He smiled. Despite the feminine touches, this place was functional, nothing like the decrepit cabin they’d used as a safe house.
About a hundred miles from Portland, Oregon, the farmhouse was on the eastern edge of Mt. Hood, near the small community of Tygh Valley. Human neighbors lived a few miles away, but he could deal with that, as long as they didn’t interfere. Overall, Jakar had done a good job. He’d used the funds they’d racked up from the stolen credit cards to rent the place. The owner hadn’t asked any questions, which was a good move on his part. They could stay here, at least for a while.
Members of his brood sat on the overstuffed couch and the wing-backed chairs that lined the perimeter of the living room. A newer inductee still had a few wisps of hair hanging from his almost-bald head. He appeared to survive the change from human to Gossum without any ill effects. They always did. Humans were such easy prey. Easy to catch, easy to convert. Most of the new members came from the seedy side of Portland where it was simpler to hide their disappearance from their normal, human lives.
Ram cast a look at his first lieutenant. “Well, where’s the basement?”
“This way.” Jakar headed into the kitchen. He pointed to a door, the edges rough with age. “Down there.”
“By all means, lead the way,” Ram said.
Jakar bowed. “As you wish, my lord.”
With a loud squeak, the door opened on rusty hinges. The sound was like rock grinding against rock, reminding him of his fall into the river at the hand of his nemesis. His claws extended from his fingers. He wanted to lash out at someone, anything to ease his mounting frustration. In the last battle, he’d lost to Noeh, and he didn’t know how much time he’d have before Zedron paid him a visit. If he didn’t have something to offer the finicky god, he’d die a painful death and never get the chance to prove to his ex-wife, Sheri, that he wasn’t a failure. He shivered.
Jakar climbed down the long flight of stairs. A bare bulb in the middle of the ceiling provided a small measure of light, but Ram didn’t need it. The temperature decreased with each step, and the smell of damp earth and rotting vegetables grew as he descended. If he’d had any hair on his bald head, it would’ve stood on end. He missed having hair—his cap didn’t quite fit the same way anymore.
When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he stopped. A jolt of excitement raced along his spine, and he held his breath. Before him, the room spread out in a large arc. Bottles, beakers, lab equipment, and assorted sundries lay on the large workbench. His heart beat in a fast rhythm. He had a lab again, and that was a wonderful thing.
When they captured another Lemurian, he had all he needed to extract the blood and create another serum. This time, Ram wouldn’t fail. Once he had their preternatural powers, he and his brood would bring down the Keep and all its inhabitants. Then, they could enslave the humans and start transporting water back to Lemuria.
He scanned the room. Scattered among the glass beakers and metal bowls lay an assortment of tools—screwdrivers, hammers, pliers—probably left over from the prior tenant.
Ram glanced at his first lieutenant. His loyalty was unusual among the Gossum. Must’ve been Ram’s good timing. He’d saved Jakar from an ass-fuck by two guys in an alley. Ram had killed the attackers and bit Jakar, transforming him into a Gossum. His first lieutenant’s loyalty had paid off, big time. “You outdid yourself.”
Jakar shrugged. “It is to your liking then, excellent. While you were…indisposed, I had the brood work on expanding this room. As you can see, the back corner was excavated with plenty of space for prisoners. You shall have all that you require.”
Ram laughed so hard his body shook. His fingers tingled, and he was eager to begin the search. Maybe he still had a chance to please his god, Zedron, and win this war. Now, all they needed was some Lemurian blood. “Let’s break out the vodka. We need to fuel up before the hunt.”