Epiphany got a makeover
Happy Friday! I’m thrilled to announce that Epiphany got a makeover. My early readers might remember that this novel is my book baby. Fun fact: I was 90% done with it when Kayla and her sadistic devil started speaking to me. So of course, I listened and jumped down the dark romance rabbit hole with the Devil’s Kiss. Don’t let the release dates fool you, though. Epiphany came first.
Since I first published Mac and Aidan’s story, this book has gone through a lot of covers, but I could never find the right one. I think I’ve finally got a winner, and the new title is spot on as well.
With Dreams of Payne is an intricate web of romance, suspense, and humongous secrets written to the backdrop of paranormal vibes in the way of psychic powers. There’s also a serial killer running loose.
It’s a mouthful, I know.
No matter the title, my book baby will always be Epiphany to me, but I hope the new title and cover will entice more readers to give Mac and Aidan’s story a chance. These characters are so worth the read, I promise!
Blurb
He isn’t real.
The stranger with the seductive eyes.
The man whose phantom touch ignites me.
The guy I’ve seen in my dreams for years.
But it turns out he does exist because he’s standing in the bar where I work, sexy and secretive in the flesh. And those mahogany eyes that are as familiar as my own?
They’re haunted.
Rife with tragedy.
Dark with an agenda.
It can’t be a coincidence he appeared when the killings started. Now my nights are full of visions I’d rather not see.
Death and despair.
Victims and headlines.
A reality I can’t escape.
My dream lover is determined to protect me, and I’m determined to save him from the demons of his past. Together, we might just heal each other…if fate and a serial killer don’t get to us first.
Excerpt
“Did you dream about me too? Is that why you followed me on Halloween?”
I took another step back, but he advanced until the edge of the counter bit into my spine. “I didn’t.” The lie sounded weak, even to my own ears.
“I think you did. The way you looked at me, like you saw a ghost or something…” Brushing against me, he set his tumbler on the cool granite. “At first, I thought maybe you recognized me from somewhere, had seen the news reports—”
“No,” I interrupted, my head spinning from the combination of alcohol and his close proximity. “You were imagining things.”
“No, I wasn’t.” He gently pried the empty glass from my fingers and set it next to his. Nothing stood between us now, not even the last shred of my secret.
I held fast to it anyway, like a child unwilling to let go of a tattered teddy bear. “You can think whatever you want. Doesn’t make it true.”
“Doesn’t make it not true.”
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