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Nightkeepers by Jessica AndersenI met Jessica Andersen in Dallas last year. I think I made an ass of myself standing line staring at her before I finally had to say I am sorry I KNOW I know you.

I am shy… I am working on it. We were chatting later at the Berkley party, when I found out they were her new publisher. I was delighted, being the Penguin whore that I am… and she said that word… paranormal. So I figured I was going to have to pretend to be interested to be nice.

Color me SHOCKED when she told me about the book. Serious… here is the summary

According to the Mayan doomsday prophecy, time ends on December 21, 2012. In NIGHTKEEPERS, the last king of an ancient race of magi must team up with a sexy Miami-Dade narcotics detective in order to reunite his scattered warriors and fight the gods of the Mayan underworld. Wielding ancestral blood magic, the king must choose between his duty to avert the 2012 apocalypse and his love for the woman who is the gods’ destined sacrifice.

I know! Have you heard of anything like it? For those of you looking for a new paranormal author and are tired of bloodsuckers (or just want a lil variety in your paranormal diet). Write down this date…

AVAILALABLE JUNE 3, 2008

Jessica will be chatting tonight at EnchantingReviews, visiting with Book Binge on Friday (And they will be hosting a contest!) and at Freshfiction on the 29th. AND she is rolling out a brand spanking new website tomorrow. I will try and drop you a note when it goes live – or feel free to post here and tell us *g*.And she will be one of our guest bloggers in June… most likely on the 3th. I will try and twist her arm into giving away a book. Now I will shut up and you can read what you are here for anyway… enjoy 😉

E-X-C-E-R-P-T
from NIGHTKEEPERS by Jessica Andersen

With her purchase concluded, the blonde wiggled out of the garden center, winking at Strike. “Your loss.”

“No doubt.” Strike watched her go, thinking that Rabbit was right. He was an idiot. Scratching a red patch on his inner wrist- he must’ve gotten nailed by a spider or something- he told Jox, “Your cow shit’s here.”

“Thanks.” The older man skirted the counter and headed for the back, where a set of swinging doors led to the warehouse and loading dock. “Watch the register for a few minutes. I want to make sure they didn’t send me broken bags again.”

“Ah, yes. A smell to remember.” Strike took Jox’s customary place on the barstool behind the counter, swallowing hard against a sudden, unexpected surge of nausea.

A glance around the storefront showed a few browsers, but nobody who looked like they needed immediate attention. Which was a good thing, because all of a sudden he wasn’t feeling so hot. His wrist was burning like a sonofabitch, and when he looked down he saw three right hands where there should’ve only been one. A quick grab told him he hadn’t sprouted extra limbs; he was seeing triple. He was also sweating like a pig, and the idea of sticking his head in the john so he could barf in peace sounded real good. Squinting to cut the spin, he groped for the phone to buzz Jox out back, and came up with a utility knife instead. This’ll do, he thought out of nowhere.

Moving without conscious volition, he flipped the knife open and sliced the blade across his right palm.

Blood spilled over, tracking down his wrist and across his glyph marks. Pain hit, first from the cut, and again when he slithered off the barstool and landed hard on his knees. His head spun and the nausea increased, but it was more like a pressure in his throat, a burning compulsion to say- what?

Jesus, what the hell’s going on? he thought, but the acid burning at the back of his throat told his head what his heart already knew. It was the summer solstice, one of the four days each year that the barrier used to be at its thinnest, when a Nightkeeper’s powers had been strongest.

The barrier- and his powers- were coming back on line after all these years.

Panic mingled with excitement. The warm smell of his own blood touched his nostrils, tangy and sweet and calling to something inside him, something that ripped at his chest like fear. Like heartache.

“Pasaj,” he whispered. The word was the basic command for a Nightkeeper to open a connection to the barrier, and it hadn’t worked in twenty-four years. Now, though, gray-green mist filled his brain and the world started to slide sideways. “Pasaj!” he said again, louder. “Are you out there? Talk to me, damn it!”

He heard distant voices, a woman’s cry of alarm. “He’s bleeding! Someone help!”

Inside his head, though, he saw something in the grayness behind his eyelids: a single slender thread of yellow in the fog. A travel thread. Holy crap. Acting on instinct, he reached out with his mind and touched the thread, grabbed onto it, and whispered the second word of the barrier spell. “Och.” Enter.

And the world around him vanished.