Welcome Mia Darien to the 2015 Brain to Books Summer Blog Tour!
Gets the Facts!
BIO: Born a Connecticut Yankee in nobody’s court, Mia Darien grew up to brave snow and talk fast. She started reading when she was three and never looked back, soon frequently falling asleep with a book under her cheek. (Something she still does, though these days it’s her Nook as often as a paperback.)
At eleven, she discovered “Night Mare” by Piers Anthony and entered the world of grown-up fantasy fiction and it was all over from there. She started writing at fourteen, then met vampires as a teenager and the concept for what would become Adelheid was soon born. Epic fantasy remains her first love, but she enjoys writing whatever stories come to mind in any genre.
Now she loves both writing and helping her indie community with her freelancing. A geek till the end, she enjoys role-play by email games and World of Warcraft when she has the time. Married to her very own Named Man of the North, she lives with him, their mini-tank (also known as their son) and pets, who usually act more childish than the child.
That’s what Sadie Stanton has been trying to get people to understand, and what the business she’s setting up in the paranormal hotspot of Adelheid, Connecticut, is aiming to do. Cameron’s Law has made all supernatural creatures legal citizens, and the boy next door has suddenly become the werewolf next door.
Not everyone likes that.
Now vampires have started attacking werewolves without provocation, and as if her fledgling business and preternatural rights poster girl status isn’t keeping her busy enough, people are looking to Sadie to help keep these events from giving their enemies the ammunition to repeal the law and push them back in the shadows.
But her notoriety comes with an even higher cost. Can she find a way to keep the city’s two biggest paranormal populations from descending into chaos and war, while her very help shoves her into the crossfire?
Excerpt of Cameron’s Law
That’s the part about being a vampire that I’ve always hated.
The perks are great, but lunch can kill you… and I’m not talking ‘I can’t believe I ate the whole thing’ kind of kill you, either. I mean, pull a wooden stake out of their back pocket and murder you. Honestly, who would like that?
Let’s be clear about my present situation. I wasn’t trying to eat anybody when the blonde psycho decided to do precisely that: stab me with a stake. Here I am, just trying to make an honest living when some whack job with a slayer complex comes darting out of the shadows and decides that I’m the one responsible for all the crimes my kind and those like me or pretending to be like me have committed over the past several centuries in reality and in fiction. I’m being assaulted over Dracula. Thanks, Stoker.
Now, I am very grateful to the public school system. In their lovely statement of patriotism, the Pledge of Allegiance, their having all children put their hands over the far left sides of their chests under the mistaken impression that’s where the heart is (rather than more centralized) has repeatedly saved my undead ass. It still sucks (no pun intended) to get stabbed, but at least I’m not dead, or any deader than I was before.
This turn of events was bad enough, but I could handle it. What I couldn’t handle quite so easily were the hysterics.
No, I’m not talking about my hysterics. I wasn’t hysterical. In fact, given the circumstances, I was really quite calm. I’m talking about my clients. While I’m sure that having their Preternatural Expert Advisor type person skewered wasn’t in their original plan, I was walking and talking, so was it really necessary to carry on like that?
“Mrs. White, please, really, I’m okay. Calm down,” I said through grit teeth. My hand pressed against the wound, holding back the oozing tide for a few moments.
If it hadn’t been for the screamers to my left, I probably would have gone after the bitch and said shoulder be damned, but my tearing off probably would only make the situation worse and besides, I was a little impaired. I wouldn’t forget the face. I was sure I’d find her again later and we’d have a real fight, a fair fight.
“But then… she just… out of nowhere… blood…” Mrs. Regina White sputtered, as if she’d been the one stabbed, before she promptly passed out.
Ernest White, who I assumed was her husband although no one had actually clarified it to me, knelt down beside her in a panic and then glared at me. Like this was my fault! What am I supposed to say? ‘Gee, sorry for getting stabbed. I’ll try not to leave a mess on your grave yard…’
I hate mortals sometimes.
Running after the stake-wielding psychopath was looking better all the time.
Find Mia here!