Execution Underground Title Reveal!

Hi everyone! Happy Monday!  Hope you all had a great weekend!

I have lots of exciting posts coming up. One year from now, my first novel will be released! Okay, well not on this specific day for sure, but in September 2013, and as a result, I am ssssssoooooo excited to announce that the official title of my first paranormal romance release, book number one of the Execution Underground series, will be titled SHADOW HUNTER!!!

Since I am so excited to announce this title, I thought 'hey, why not have a giveaway?'

GIVEAWAY INFORMATION

The SHADOW HUNTER Giveaway opens today (9/17/12) and closes Sunday September 23st, 2012 at 9PM EST!!!

U.S entrants only please!

Simply leave a comment on this post with your email address in order to enter.

Tweet about the SHADOW HUNTER Giveaway and it's link for an extra entry! Only one extra entry per person!

PRIZE:

An AUTOGRAPHED copy of New York Times Bestselling Author Christina Dodd's paranormal romance novel, Chains of Ice!

So please leave a comment with your email address in order to enter! And as a special treat, I leave you with this: the first three pages of SHADOW HUNTER (Execution Underground, #1). 

 

Chapter One

Jace McCannon palmed the Mateba and clicked back the gun’s hammer. The cold grip panels of the modified revolver sat comfortably in his hand. Six silver bullets for a rogue werewolf. Limited shots. But he was feeling lucky.

            He gripped the gun with both hands and lowered it to his side, slipping in and out of the shadows. The rank scent of garbage, car exhaust, and piss wafted into his nose as he passed through the alleyway. Ah, the sweet aroma of Rochester’s slums. He ran his tongue over his teeth, jonesing for a cigarette to drown out the smell and steady the adrenaline buzz creeping through his veins. Goddamn, he wanted to find this son of a bitch.

            Resting his back against a brick building, he paused and glanced up. The white moon stared down to Earth, calling him. Heat prickled beneath his skin and his beast shifted. But he wouldn’t allow it. Not tonight.

            He wrenched his gaze from the damn tempting sky and forced himself into the moment. Inhaling a deep breath, he rushed around the corner and scanned the area, pointing his gun into the darkness. No one. No werewolves, no hobos. Damn, not even the prostitutes were roaming.

            Not that he blamed them. Regular killings weren’t anything to call home about—happened all the time. But this was different. Innocent women being found with their organs slung around their corpse, Jack the Ripper style. The worst part? Jace had no idea where to find the sick fuck responsible, and the thought of the young women’s pain sent his blood boiling.

            He wandered the alley, gun still at the ready and eyes searching for any sign of movement. A rustling noise hissed from around the next corner. Jace held his gun tight and snuck down the narrow passage toward it. The sound grew louder and he quickened his pace. When he reached the bend, he stopped, listening close. He threw himself around the edge, gun ready and his finger on the trigger.

            A plastic bag caught on a dumpster swished in the light wind. He cursed under his breath. Maybe he wasn’t so lucky tonight. He pushed his fingers through his hair. The cell phone jammed in the pocket of his jeans vibrated. He pulled out the annoying piece of shit and read the screen: David.

            He jabbed his thumb into one of the buttons, hoping it was the right one and shoved the phone to his ear. “Yeah?”

            “Meeting in an hour,” David’s deep voice rumbled over the line.

            Aw, hell. Jace shook his head. “Don’t toy with me. I’ve got business.”

            “I’m not shittin’ you, J. One hour, and you better be there or Damon’s gonna rip my head off. I told him I’d get you here.”

            Jace frowned. He hated being forced to carry a damn cell phone. He didn’t enjoy people contacting him whenever they pleased. “It’s near the full moon, David. This is my prime time. You know that.”

            “You don’t have to preach to me. Damon’s the one hawking you.” David paused for a moment. “He’s gonna want a report tonight.”

            “Yeah, yeah, I hear ya. I’ll have something.”

            “Sure you hear me, and I like to dress up in tutus, while my girl spanks me and calls me Big Daddy.”

            Jace smirked. “Hey, if that’s what gets you off—”  

“Shut it,” David said. “You’ve gotta report tonight or your ass is in a sling. So what are you gonna tell him?”

            Jace glanced into the empty darkness surrounding him. “Same thing I told him last time: jack shit. I’m not opening my damn mouth until I’ve either got their packmaster bound and chained, or preferably, his head on a silver platter courtesy of my bare hands.”

            David let out a frustrated sigh. “I thought you said you had something.”

            “I do.” Jace lowered his voice; it didn’t matter that he was alone, some things he couldn’t say aloud if he wanted to keep his sanity. “I’ve got a scent. That’s all, and it’s familiar, so I smell it everywhere. Trailing him is about as much fun as shooting myself in the foot.”

            “It’s something.”

            “You better believe it’s something. But what do you expect me to do, David? Tell the whole goddamn council their werewolf hunter happens to be so damn good at his job because he’s a friggin’ half-breed?”

            Silence answered him from the other end of the line. Another rustling sound blew through the alley, but Jace ignored the noise. “Look, I’ll deal with this, all right? Forget about it. I’ll be at the damn meeting with bells on and a smiling face, but let me do it on my own terms.”

            “Yeah, fine. I better see you there or the next time I’m around, I’ll have a long rope and it’ll be coming straight for your neck.”

            Jace huffed. “Talk to you later, Big Daddy.”

            “Yeah, you too, sugar.”

            With a small click,  the line went dead. Jace shoved the machine in his pocket again. The swishing sound continued, the noise growing. Jace rolled his eyes, ready to ball the grocery bag and pitch it. He eyed the plastic.

            Shit. The wind stopped. It wasn’t blowing.

            The faint sound of footsteps echoed and the rustling quieted. Jace wrenched his revolver from his side, launching himself down the alley and around the corner. He held his gun tight, prepared to shoot.

Copyright Kaitlyn Ballenger, Harlequin Enterprises Limited