Future Books

Writing is back in full swing! In order (unless otherwise stated), these are the books I'm working on at any given time to publish within the next three or so years: The Immortal's Guide - Delacroix Series

(The swirling cold air surrounded him as he flew forever upward, the Enchanter breaking cold air alongside him, her expression most focused as she blasted spell after spell at the dark figure that loomed ever above them and, Nathanial knew without a glance backward, behind them as well.

He grasped tight Xavier’s hand, sure to pull the Vampire adamantly along as the wind grew louder, stronger in its pull, until it was all he could hear, Aurora’s incantations lost to the howling fury that was Eleanor’s power. And just when he saw the dark figure’s translucent body ripple with a particularly shattering blast of green light cast from Aurora’s slender hand, he knew a single burst of red light to fill his vision completely.

“Xavier!”  Eleanor Black’s echo screamed madly amidst the rush of wind, the hail of red light.)

Judgment - Paranormal Romance

(His mahogany door swung open, causing him to jump up, his finger sliding off the intercom button. The force of the door seemed to reverberate around the smug office, the leather chair where he sat behind his black desk, staring upon the intruder in awe.

A tight red dress clung to every curve along the slender body and as she sauntered forward, a most forlorn Abby behind her mumbling rapid apologies into the air, she reached into a black shoulder bag and dug from it what looked to be two rather old papers.

Slamming the dog-eared, slightly yellowed sheets down on his desk with a well manicured hand, she looked up into his black eyes and in them he saw fear, tremendous fear, but also what looked like the faintest glimmer of hope. And as they stared at each other, he realized her pink lips had been moving: “Take these. Take them and run. They are coming.”

And before he could call her back, or say a word at all, she had turned on a red heel, and had stepped briskly from the room, her long raven hair flying out behind her before she disappeared behind the dark door that had closed with a slam just as fierce as the one she had caused when entering.) The Tales of Sinner Sharpe: Dark Waters (Title pending) - Adventure/Action/Fiction

(“We’re gonna need more men, Sin,” the man aptly called Dagger said to me in his deep voice.

As he stared at me, his dark eyes alive with the stirrings of excitement, I felt it myself: There was only one thing to do when we received a job, and that meant taking on a lot of new names...killing the old ones...or at least, the ones that didn’t get along too well with my idea of when to work and when to play, and when those two things were in fact one in the same.

I tapped a finger against the wood of the table we sat around and tried to disguise my own excitement underneath a smooth surface of clear-headedness. Dagger would have it no other way.

“I saw a few of those Fireguard boys walking around before we came here,” I said, thinking back to the sight of the young men walking around with their helmets falling over their eyes. I grimaced as I rethought their importance.

Dagger seemed to be thinking the same thing for he quickly said, “The Fireguard grows privileged babies, not mercenaries...assassins. We need men...men like....” And his eyes roved behind me as the door to the small dirty inn opened.

As I turned in my seat to watch the newcomers allow the warm night air of Battle Bay Port to enter the dry air of the place, I saw that several dirt-strewn, sea-worn men were entering through the battered door. Along their chests remained the emblem for their group, or sect, or whatever one called it nowadays, a simple one if I ever saw it: the shadow of a dagger stitched to their black shirts.

As the men entered completely and the door closed behind them, I turned back to Dagger, desiring to see his thoughts on these men. He wasn’t looking at me, he still looked over my head, staring, well, daggers, upon the men as they took their seats around a particularly large table in the center of the room.

“Dag,” I grunted, fighting the urge to punch his arm. Damn man wouldn’t tear his eyes off a new prospect – if he thought they were good enough for Assassins of Sin – unless I cut his eyes out. He was like that. If he thought they’d make good men to work with, he’d do all he could – work his magic – so that they were onboard. But just the same, if it turned out those men were ne’er do wells, well...he took just as much pleasure in running his infamous daggers across their throats. I couldn’t say I didn’t approve of his methods – he’d learned them from me in the first place.)

The Rather Depressing Tales of Patricia L. Bordeaux - Paranormal/Horror/Fantasy/Fiction

(My name is Patricia Lauren Bordeaux, and I, like my creator before me, am a very lonely vampire.

Born to Margaret Emilie Clarke in 1686, my family found themselves the center of scandal. For you see, my sister, Sarah Clarke, landed in the Virginas with the rest of the deserters around the time of my twenty-eighth birthday. With my father’s death some years before, my dear mother and I had no one else to rely on. Shunned from society with my sister’s betrayal to her country, we were forced to send pieces of our furniture to a dear friend’s house in the efforts to evade the tax collectors, persistent though they were.

Our state of anxiety further continued throughout the years with no hope of relief in sight and when we’d received news of the Americans and their Declaration of Independence, my mother had long since passed from malaria at the tender age of seventy-six. But where are my manners?

I suppose I should start at the beginning, and though one would debate just what the beginning consists of, I must say that it starts on the rather cold night of January 4th, 1714. My mother remained at home with her dear Lady Langdon, gossiping about the world and pining for her youth, while I, a quite adventurous sort in those days, made it my fortune to venture to those rather indecent places one would only whisper about behind drawn curtains and closed doors with blushing cheeks and lowered eyes.

My particular goal in sight this night was to scour a new gentlemen’s club, and although I was no gentleman by any moderation of the word, I often thought it fun to try my hand at getting in.)

The Two Swords - Delacroix Series

(No excerpt yet available.)

The Goblet (of Existence) - Delacroix Series

(No excerpt yet available.)

Dracula; The Life - Delacroix Series

(No excerpt yet available.)

Excited? I am!

Keep your bite!

-S.C. Parris