* * * * Blurb * * * *
What happens when Satan takes a hand in your death? You land in a whole
different aspect of the Next Realm. A place called Ascension.
Logan McNair has a hard time believing he's dead or in the Astral
Plane. He thinks he's under the influence of a psychotropic drug.
That he's dreamt up the gorgeous redhead standing before him is as
good an excuse as any to get some much needed R&R–even if it is just
a hot fantasy.
Mórrígan, the ancient Celtic war goddess, hasn't tasted a
mortal in a millennium, but Logan is a temptation she can't resist.
She's already on the chopping block with her contemporaries, and the
mighty powers-that-be in Ascension, but nothing is going to stop her
from dominating his body. Or is there?
Wills clash and bodies collide as they learn there's more to
immortality than just performing a duty, and humanity brings new
excitement to the Realm of Warrior Glade.
Nothing can stop them from exploring hot sex.
Theirs is a love forged in the Heat of Battle.
* * * * End Blurb * * * *
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* * * Excerpt * * * *
A Between Heaven and Hell–The Passions Story
Heat of Battle
War does not determine who is right. War determines who is left.
Beware for whom the death toll knells. It might be you.
"Logan," a soft-as-a-whispered-breeze of a voice permeated Logan
McNair's hazy mind. "Logan McNair," the person repeated. "Come on,
it's far past time for you to wake up."
Logan couldn't move even if he wanted to. Cringing back from the red
glare of bright halogen light blazing through his eyelids, he finally
chanced fate and peeked cautiously to the side. "What the hell
"Give yourself a few minutes for the haze to clear," someone else said,
maybe another woman. Nah, this tenor belonged to a guy, he decided,
disoriented. He couldn't see anything except the blinding light and
the faint dark outlines of people. Then, the guy continued. "I told you
to leave him alone, Kali, but do you listen? Of course not. That's
you. Punishment with two arms, boons with the other."
"Mórrígan wishes to see him," Kali argued. "I think there is a
problem with his ascension, Pikullos." A stilted pause clung to the
brilliance. Logan could almost feel a palpable frustration pulsing in
the air. "Did you take him too soon?" The woman's challenge hit some
unearthly chord inside Logan. Take him? Where? Oh fuck, he mused,
knowing he was in real trouble.
"Unlike you, I follow the roster delivered by the Central Computer."
Logan finally got his eyes to focus on that disconcerting statement.
What the hell had happened to him? Concentrating on the last few minutes
of memory, he remembered being in his Abrams Armored Vehicle, his squad
headed for the Green Zone.
"Sure you do. That's why this war wages on when He specifically told
you to cut it out. You are going to get us all in trouble," Kali
continued, irritation tinging her words. "It's bad enough we lost
the last battle for the Astral Plane. The rumors say many of us will not
continue in the next Heavenly cycle."
"It's not my fault Ares isn't cooperating. I try. You try." The
man paused for what seemed like forever, but Logan knew was only a few
minutes. "There is no saying what will happen in this next
reorganization. Who knows, minor gods like Ares might rule Ascension."
Another pulse of stilted silence punctuated the statement. Logan tried
to shake his head but couldn't. Damn every inch of him hurt.
"That isn't to say there is going to be another reorganization.
It's all a mass of speculation at this point," Kali stated.
Freaked out to begin with, Logan licked his dry lips. "Hey, Guys, my
head is pounding. Can you knock off all the noise?"
They didn't pay any attention to him, but continued to bicker as if
he was invisible. Logan blinked several times against the blaring light
before taking mental inventory of his limbs.
Everything was where it should be. Brain working? Duh, he answered
Okay, Logan ordered himself. Heart ticking?
A frown tripped across his sweat-soaked brow.
No. Wait a cotton-picking minute. Was that a throb in the middle of his
chest? Peeking down, he wished he'd never awakened. He had a slab of
metal, probably a piece of the Abrams' floorboard rising out of his
ribs. Or, he swallowed hard against the bile rising in his throat, was
that a rib?
Was that his rib?
* * * * End Excerpt * * * *
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